Chapter 049 Postponing the Wedding

Bai Chuwei let her smile fade, gathered up her hair, and prepared to take a shower. She asked casually, “Did you send a message to the Tong family?”

Snowball was gnawing on a biscuit, nodding repeatedly: “Sent, a reminder for repayment every day.”

Bai Chuwei possessed immense wealth; four hundred million was no more than a coin on the ground to her—whether she picked it up or not made little difference. Yet these four hundred million had to be delivered to her by the Tong family, kneeling, so she could decide whether to accept it or not.

Her expression remained languid, and she spoke offhandedly, “Yes, send a reminder every day.”

When the month’s deadline was up, if they still hadn’t paid, then the ancestor would show no mercy.

*

Duan Feihan drove back to the Duan family villa, stepping into the warmly lit reception hall. He immediately sensed something odd in the atmosphere.

A well-maintained woman in her thirties was sobbing in another lady’s arms, while across from them sat a man in denim, his demeanor cold.

Duan Xingye quietly approached and tugged at Duan Feihan’s sleeve. “Fourth Uncle, Third Uncle says Grandfather’s condition is deteriorating and wants to postpone the wedding with Aunt Tong. They’re arguing.”

The elegant lady patted Tong Yunrou’s back, casting a reproachful glance at Duan Xiuqi. “Xiuqi, you can’t just decide not to marry. Isn’t that unfair?”

Duan Xiuqi rested his hand on his jeans, his tone laced with chilly sarcasm. “How did this marriage come about? Don’t you know?”

Duan Xiuqi had few desires in life. For the first eighteen years, he was a reckless soul; for the next eighty, he disciplined himself. If not for Tong Yunrou’s father threatening him with death, he would never have married.

Everyone said Tong Qingyan’s aunt, Tong Yunrou, was deeply devoted, waiting twenty years for him. Nonsense. Had he asked anything of her during those twenty years? Had he demanded repayment?

Tong Yunrou sat up from the lady’s embrace, her eyes red as she choked out, “It’s been twenty years! Bai Chu has been gone for twenty years, and you still can’t let go? You say you’re worried about Grandfather’s health, that it’s not a good time for us to marry, but you’re still thinking of that woman!”

Duan Xiuqi turned his gaze away, his voice cool. “No such thing. Father’s been seriously ill lately, and I was suddenly dropped from my phone endorsement. Too many things at once; postponing the wedding makes sense.”

He still couldn’t understand why his phone endorsement had been terminated.

Just then, Duan Feihan’s icy voice rose, sharp as frost in the wind. “Father is not gravely ill. Third Brother and Third Sister-in-law may prepare the wedding.”

Everyone’s attention shifted to Duan Feihan. Duan Xiuqi met his gaze, cold light clashing.

Duan Xingye, meanwhile, had eagerly grabbed the packet of medicinal herbs and was running toward the kitchen, shouting along the way, “Hurry, the medicine’s back, let’s boil it for Grandfather!”

Several eminent traditional medicine doctors gathered to brew the concoction. The bitter aroma of herbs filled the hall, and occasional exclamations rang out:

“Combining Fulinzi and Guisen? Yes, yes, I recall ancient texts stating these two herbs are excellent for the stomach. Genius! Whoever wrote this prescription is a genius!”

“These herbs are all easy to buy and very cheap. Many here would normally conflict, but their toxicity is neutralized by other ingredients, producing remarkable effects. Who could have crafted this formula? Truly a genius!”

Another elderly doctor’s eyes were bloodshot as he reached into the boiling residue, heedless of the heat, eager to examine the ingredients.

Bai Chuwei hadn’t provided the prescription, only a packet of herbs. If these old masters wanted to learn, they had to deduce the ingredients from the remains.

They counted, and finally, almost dropped their jaws in amazement: “This whole treatment costs, at most, three hundred yuan.”

Treating stomach cancer, for three hundred?

If word got out, it would shock the world.

Duan Feihan cast a sideways glance, saying nothing.

Three hundred?

He’d spent three hundred million.