The Qiao family had a good family ethos and a small household. Mrs. Qiao had only heard of other families fighting fiercely over power and wealth, but Feng Qing’s experiences shocked her the most.
Perhaps it was because the Qiao family and Feng Qing were close.
Mrs. Qiao was quite fond of Feng Qing.
“They… they actually… You’re their sister!” Mrs. Qiao exclaimed.
Feng Qing gave a bitter smile, saying nothing.
“Ah Qing, are you running a fever? Your face is so red.”
Mrs. Qiao touched Feng Qing’s forehead and said, “You really have a fever. Mr. Fang, have you spoken to the doctor?”
Fang Yao replied, “She started burning up at midnight. The Young Miss caught a cold from the chill. After taking fever medicine, it went down, but it’s come back now.”
“It’s about time for her next dose.”
Mrs. Qiao noticed two insulated food containers and understood. She said to Fang Yao, “Mr. Fang, go eat. I’ll take care of Ah Qing.”
“Auntie, no need. I can eat on my own,” Feng Qing said, embarrassed.
It was the first time she’d felt care from someone of her mother’s generation.
Mrs. Qiao wasn’t even her relative, yet she was so kind.
“With one hand injured and the other hooked to an IV, it’s not convenient. Let Auntie take care of you,” Mrs. Qiao said. “Old Qiao, you and Mr. Fang go chat in the side room. If there’s anything we can help with, we’ll do our best.”
Mrs. Qiao opened the food containers. One was filled with light, simple dishes, clearly prepared for Feng Qing.
She began feeding Feng Qing.
Feng Qing felt uneasy, but Mrs. Qiao said, “You’re the same age as my children. Ah Han sees you as a friend, and you’re like my junior. Let me take care of you—don’t feel shy. It’s like a mother caring for her daughter.”
Hearing this, Feng Qing stopped protesting.
During this, Qiao Han called to check on Feng Qing.
Learning that Feng Qing only had minor injuries, Qiao Han was relieved but scolded her for keeping everything to herself and taking such a risk.
Feng Qing laughed, saying that taking the risk was worth it to settle things once and for all.
What could Qiao Han say? She only urged Feng Qing to recover well and to ask for help if needed—the Qiao family would do whatever they could.
Meanwhile, Zheng Hua was pacing anxiously at home, finally deciding to head to Jiang City himself.
He needed to find out about his three sons.
Would they face charges?
How many years might they get?
He planned to hire top lawyers for each son to fight for lighter sentences.
The most pressing matter was to learn if Feng Qing was injured and, if so, how badly.
Whether his sons would face charges, and how severe they’d be, depended on Feng Qing’s condition.
In his heart, Zheng Hua cursed Feng Qing as a disaster, regretting not stopping her return more forcefully.
He and his sons had thought Feng Qing, raised in the countryside, was just a bumpkin. Even if she’d gone to college, so what?
They believed her abilities and experience couldn’t compare to Feng Ruo’s.
They thought even if Feng Qing returned to the Feng family, she wouldn’t pose a significant threat.
Mainly, since Feng Qing was his biological daughter, when Feng Yue learned Feng Ruo wasn’t her real daughter and Feng Qing was, she immediately insisted on bringing Feng Qing back, refusing to let her only daughter stay estranged.
When Feng Yue was alive, Zheng Hua didn’t dare defy her.
His three sons were the same—cowed in her presence.
“Sir, are you going out?” the nanny asked instinctively, seeing Zheng Hua grab his car keys.
“Yes, I’m heading to Jiang City. I might not be back soon. While I’m gone, keep up with your work. Don’t slack off. There are cameras everywhere. If I catch you slacking, don’t blame me for docking your bonuses.”
