Chapter 9: I’m not afraid of doctors who smile, I’m afraid of doctors with downcast eyes.

After chatting with Yao Xinxin, Song Yao bought a bowl of tremella soup at the hospital entrance and tucked it into her arms.

The city hospital was as bustling as ever.

She weaved through the crowd and finally reached her destination.

The inpatient ward was much quieter than the waiting hall.

She stopped at a single room, tidied her clothes, and pushed the door open.

“Grandma, I’m here to see you!”

Song Yao put on a bright smile and strode to the bedside, eyes full of concern.

The old woman on the bed slowly opened her eyes. The dim gaze lit up instantly.

Her lips curved into a weak but warm smile.

Her voice was barely audible, but she tried. “Yao Yao, you’re here. Grandma’s fine. Really.”

“Good to hear.”

Song Yao took out the tremella soup, placed it on the bedside table, and opened it. “Grandma, eat something first. I’ll call Doctor Wu for a checkup later.”

“Yao Yao, you must be tired with school and part-time jobs. Grandma’s okay. Don’t come to the hospital so often—it’s too much trouble.”

The old woman’s eyes were full of heartache for Song Yao.

Without her, Song Yao should be enjoying her hard-earned college life.

But now, studying and working to pay bills—she couldn’t bear it.

“Grandma, what are you saying?”

Song Yao scooped a small spoonful of soup, blew on it to cool, and carefully fed it to her. “When I was little and couldn’t walk well, you woke early to make tofu to sell and carried me to school. Compared to that, a few extra steps for me are nothing.”

“Yao Yao, you can’t compare like that. Back then, we had no choice. Grandma doesn’t want to hold you back…”

The old woman advised earnestly, hoping Song Yao would agree.

But Song Yao acted as if she hadn’t heard, feeding her spoonful by spoonful.

Soon, the bowl was empty. The old woman’s complexion looked a bit rosier.

“Grandma, wait here. I’ll pay this month’s fees, then call Doctor Wu.”

After cleaning the table, Song Yao darted out like a rabbit.

The old woman tried to call her several times, but she was gone.

“Stop! Stop!”

Just outside, Song Yao was halted after a few steps, followed by a scolding.

“Who let you run in the hallway? What if you knock over a patient… Oh, it’s you, little girl.”

The speaker was a woman a few years older, tall and slender in a fitted white coat that accentuated her long lines. Her shoulders were strong, exuding undeniable presence.

Long, straight legs. Exquisite, cold features. Painted brows and eyes. High nose bridge with thin lips pressed together. Neat short hair combed back, revealing a clean forehead—sharp and mature beyond her years. Every move screamed big-sister vibe.

“Sorry, Doctor Wu.”

Speak of the devil.

This mature woman was the old woman’s attending physician, Wu Yishuang.

A top graduate from Rongcheng Medical College, poached by the hospital dean after years of effort.

Her status? Expert number required.

When the old woman fell ill, Song Yao hung the youngest expert’s number without hesitation.

Caring for her grandma, she ran to the hospital daily. Over time, she got familiar with Wu Yishuang.

“Why the rush? I was just coming to check on her.”

Wu Yishuang’s eyes were full of reproach.

Running in inpatient hallways was taboo—hitting a patient was no joke.

“If I don’t hurry, Grandma will nag me forever.”

Song Yao shrugged helplessly. “Doctor Wu, how much for this month?”

At the mention, Wu Yishuang’s usually stern face showed rare worry.

Song Yao’s heart sank.

No fear of smiling doctors—fear the somber ones.

“Doctor Wu, is it too expensive?”

“Come to my office.”

Wu Yishuang didn’t explain, just beckoned her to follow.

This made Song Yao’s unease grow.

In the office, Song Yao sat opposite, her little feet fidgeting.

“Doctor Wu, what happened? My heart’s weak—don’t scare me!”

Wu Yishuang sighed. “I reviewed her reports. The cancer cells are spreading throughout her body.”

Song Yao’s heart tightened.

“Serious?”

“Surgery could fix it, but at her age, the risk is high. Only conservative treatment.”

Wu Yishuang watched Song Yao’s face. “Cure is tough, but we can ease symptoms. However, follow-up costs… might be high.”

She knew Song Yao’s situation.

The old woman, childless, had found Song Yao over a decade ago—abandoned or trafficked, unknown.

She raised her as a granddaughter, through thick and thin.

Song Yao was promising—admitted to Rongcheng University, Shu Province’s best.

Everything was looking up until the illness shattered their dependent life.

The old woman spent her life savings.

To not burden her, Song Yao worked part-time, covering tuition and living expenses herself.

“Good thing it’s just money…”

Song Yao exhaled.

Wu Yishuang, seeing her calm, thought she misunderstood “high” and explained again.

“Girl, you might not get it. Conservative treatment is slow. Costs could hit hundreds of thousands. You’re using the best meds and a single room—even if rich, you can’t burn money like this.

I suggest cutting where possible. Downgrade meds to save a lot. No need for single room—standard ward saves plenty.”

“Thanks, Doctor Wu. But I want Grandma to have the best. She’s suffered for me all these years. Why not let her enjoy?”

Song Yao pulled out her phone, showed her balance to Wu Yishuang. “I have 190,000 now. Enough? If not, I’ll earn more.”

Wu Yishuang stared at the six figures, stunned.

How much?

190,000—from a not-yet-graduated student?

Her mind raced with guesses.

She sighed, patted Song Yao’s shoulder earnestly. “Girl, if money’s tight, we can seek social aid. No need to ruin yourself.”

Song Yao: “?”

Sis, where did your mind go!