The hospital is in the North district of the city, about twelve kilometers from his current location.

It took him nearly forty minutes to drive that distance.

It wasn’t because of traffic—though there was indeed a bit of congestion. Rather, it was due to three minor fender-benders that caused delays, a road construction zone, and a cardboard box that suddenly appeared in the middle of the road (which turned out to be empty when he drove around it).

By the time he arrived at the hospital parking lot, it had started raining again.

Fu Yanqing sat in the car for a while, watching the raindrops on the windshield. Since he’d rushed to the hospital, he hadn’t brought an umbrella.

He got out and stepped into the rain.

From the parking lot to the main hospital building was about three hundred meters. By the time he reached the entrance, the rain had thickened from a light drizzle to a moderate downpour. His hair was soaked, and his shoulders were damp as well. The security guard at the entrance gave him a glance, probably thinking he was odd—walking so leisurely in the rain without an umbrella.

Fu Yanqing stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the 18th floor.

The hospital elevators are always busy. They stop on almost every floor, with people slowly getting on and off, often pausing to chat with others. Some people spend ages straightening their hair, clothes, and masks in the mirror after stepping in.

There are families who cram into the elevator together, carrying all sorts of big and small bags, thermos containers, and examination forms. The sheer volume of stuff blocks the buttons, making it hard even to reach them, so they have to shift positions slowly.

And then there are those who stand right by the door, blocking the way, taking forever to figure out which floor to press.

He glanced at his watch; nearly four minutes had passed since he entered the elevator.

The 18th floor arrived, and Fu Yanqing let out a sigh as he stepped out, walking down the corridor to the innermost VIP ward.

The room was spacious, like a luxury hotel suite. Old Master Fu was half-lying on the bed, an IV needle inserted into the back of his hand, receiving an infusion. His complexion wasn’t great, but he seemed relatively alert. When he saw Fu Yanqing enter, he waved him over.

“You’re here?”

“Mm.” Fu Yanqing sat down on the chair beside the bed. “What did the doctor say?”

“My blood pressure is a bit high, and my blood sugar’s up too. Just old habits,” Old Master Fu said, waving his hand. “That’s not why I asked you to come.”

Fu Yanqing looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

Old Master Fu was silent for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. He was seventy-six this year, with completely white hair and wrinkles etched deep into his face like knife cuts. In his youth, he was a fearsome figure in the business world—tough, decisive, and never backing down. Now, lying in a hospital bed, he looked just like any ordinary elderly man.

“Yanqing,” he finally spoke, “you’re twenty-eight this year.”

“Mm.”

“When I was twenty-eight, your father was already three years old.”

Fu Yanqing didn’t say anything.

“I’m not rushing you to get married,” Old Master Fu said. “I’m worried—” He paused and coughed twice. “I’m worried I won’t live long enough.”

“Grandpa—”

“Let me finish,” Old Master Fu interrupted. “I know you don’t believe in this sort of thing, but I do. I’ve lived over seventy years—what haven’t I seen? There are some things science can’t explain.” He looked directly into Fu Yanqing’s eyes. “Your fate configuration hasn’t been good since you turned eighteen, has it?”

Fu Yanqing didn’t deny it.

“I’ve already had someone do a fortune reading for you,” Old Master Fu said.

“Grandpa—”

“Hold on, don’t jump to conclusions just yet,” Old Master Fu raised his unneedle-punctured hand to stop him. “I didn’t go to some roadside fortune-teller. I went to a distant relative—his family has been doing this for three generations. The old man passed away last year, leaving behind a granddaughter who’s said to be even more skilled than he was.”

At this point, Fu Yanqing had pretty much figured it out. “You want me to get a fortune read?”

“No, not exactly a fortune reading,” Old Master Fu paused. “It’s about marriage.”

The room fell silent for about five seconds.

“Marriage?” Fu Yanqing’s voice was very calm.

“That girl has an exceptionally strong fate configuration—perfectly complementary to yours. The master—that old man—said during his lifetime that you’re destined to face a major tribulation, and that only someone with an extremely strong fate configuration can help you avert it. The best way to do that is—”

“Marriage.”

“That’s right,” Old Master Fu nodded. “I’ve already arranged for someone to contact her. Her name is Su Xingyu, twenty-three, from Xiangxi, and she studies Traditional Chinese Medicine. I’ve already met her—she’s a good kid.”

Fu Yanqing remained silent for a long time.

He looked at his grandfather in the hospital bed. This elderly man had worried about him for over twenty years, pulling him out of the shadow of his parents’ passing and single-handedly holding up the entire Fu family. Now he lay in bed, an IV needle in his hand, still fretting over his fate.

End of Chapter 2: The Hospital