Divine Eye Appraisal: Starting with a Lucky Pickup of a Beautiful CEO's Family Heirloom

Wen Zhaoye was woken up by a nurse.

When he opened his eyes, the bright fluorescent lights in the corridor hurt his eyes. His neck ached terribly, his back was stiff, and he felt like he had been shoved into a washing machine and spun around for half an hour.

"Mr. Wen?" The nurse stood in front of him. "The head doctor wants you to sign the surgical consent form."

Wen Zhaoye stood up abruptly, his mind going blank.

He glanced towards the ICU; the door was already open, and several nurses were pushing a bed out.

He quickly followed.

The operating room is on the sixth floor.

He stared at his grandmother's face the whole way, which was mostly covered by an oxygen mask, with only her eyes showing.

With his eyes closed and his breathing even, he looked like he was asleep.

The surgeon came out before being wheeled into the operating room.

The man was in his fifties, wearing a white coat with a badge that read "Director" on his chest, and his expression wasn't very pleasant.

He held a stack of sheets in his hand and glanced at Wen Zhaoye.

Are you a family member of the patient?

"I am her grandson."

"Zhou Guilan, 71 years old, has severe mitral regurgitation and a history of coronary heart disease."

The doctor handed over the form.

"The surgery carries significant risks. We can only proceed if you sign this agreement."

Wen Zhaoye took the pen and paused for a moment.

"How high is the risk?"

The doctor looked at him and remained silent for two seconds.

"Anything can happen during heart surgery on an elderly person. But I've been performing this surgery for twenty years, and your choice is simple—sign, or don't sign."

Wen Zhaoye looked down at the paper.

The pen tip hovered over the "signer" column.

He recalled the look in his grandmother's eyes last night.

With an oxygen tube inserted, she struggled to open her eyes and looked at him, asking if he had trouble making money.

He said at the time that it wasn't difficult.

Now it's his turn to choose.

If I sign it, Grandma might die on the operating table.

If we don't sign, Grandma definitely won't make it past next week.

He put pen to paper.

The handwriting is neat and tidy, with each stroke carefully written.

After signing the form, I returned it to the doctor and said, "Thank you."

The doctor nodded, turned around, and went into the operating room.

The operating room light came on the moment the door closed.

Wen Zhaoye sat down on the plastic chair by the door.

Then began the long wait.

Time seemed to drag on. He glanced at his phone; it was 7:10 a.m.

I glanced at it again; it was 7:13.

I glanced at it again; it was 7:16.

Nurses were going in and out, pushing medical carts, their footsteps hurried.

Wen Zhaoye looked up each time, trying to glean some clues from their faces, but their expressions were always the same—they were busy, don't ask.

At eight o'clock, his phone rang.

A strange number. He answered it, and the other person sounded quite polite.

"Hello Mr. Wen, I am Ms. Yu's assistant. Ms. Yu asked me to bring you something. Could you please come down to the first floor?"

Wen Zhaoye was taken aback. "What is it?"

You'll see when you get here.

He hesitated for a moment, glanced at the operating room door; the light was still on. "I can't leave."

"Then I'll come up."

Five minutes later, a woman in a suit stepped out of the elevator, holding an envelope in her hand.

She walked up to Wen Zhaoye and handed him the envelope.

"Miss Yu said this is for emergency use only." Wen Zhaoye took the envelope, opened it, and glanced at it.

Inside was a bank card.

He recognized this type of card—an anonymous card that anyone could use to withdraw money without an ID card.

"What does she mean?"

The assistant smiled and said, "Miss Yu said anything can happen at the hospital, and she's worried you might be short on cash. There's 200,000 in the card, and the PIN is on the back."

Wen Zhaoye held the card and remained silent for a while.

He then put the card back in the envelope and handed it back to his assistant.

"Give it back to her, and just say I accepted it."

The assistant was taken aback. "Mr. Wen?"

"Just say it's reserve money, I'll accept it first, but I won't spend it," Wen Zhaoye said. "Please thank her for me."

The assistant looked at him for a few seconds, nodded, and turned to leave.

Wen Zhaoye sat back down in his chair.

He glanced down at the envelope in his hand and put it into the inside pocket of his coat.

He remembered this favor.

The operating lights remained on. Wen Zhaoye's stomach began to rumble, but he had no appetite.

Someone was having breakfast at the nurses' station, and the smell of jianbing guozi (a type of Chinese crepe) wafted over, making him feel a little nauseous.

At 11 o'clock, his phone rang again.

This time it's Qin Fei.

He answered, "Feed?"

"How's it going on your end?" Qin Fei's voice was still the same, clean and crisp.

"Still in surgery."

"What time did you go in?"

"Around seven o'clock."

Qin Fei paused for a moment, then said, "That's quite a while."

"Um."

"We've finished questioning Wen Chengjie," Qin Fei said. "He admitted that Bao Dequan asked him to deliver the power of attorney, and he didn't know it was fake. But regarding the fingerprints, he said Bao Dequan asked him to take them from the hospital payment slip."

"And now?"

"Detention. Let's wait for the court's verdict."

Wen Zhaoye hummed in agreement.

Qin Fei asked again, "Have you eaten?"

"without."

"Have something to eat after the surgery. Aren't you taking care of your grandma?"

Wen Zhaoye suddenly felt a warmth in his chest.

"Okay, thank you."

Qin Fei paused for a moment, then said, "Alright, no need to thank me, I'm hanging up."

Wen Zhaoye looked at the call log on his phone screen; Qin Fei's name was still listed.

This woman is quite interesting.

11:30.

It was twelve o'clock. Wen Zhaoye began to feel restless. He stood up and paced back and forth in the corridor.

He glanced at the operating room door after each round of walking.

The door remained closed.

The nurses started going in and out again.

Some people were pushing blood bags in, and others were pushing medicine bottles out. Wen Zhaoye stopped a nurse.

"How's it going inside?"

"It's still being done, family members, please wait patiently."

Finished talking and left.

Wen Zhaoye sat back down.

He took out his phone, unlocked it, and then locked the screen again.

Unlock, then lock the screen.

It was repeated seven or eight times.

1:15 PM.

The operating room lights went out.

Wen Zhaoye jumped up from his chair.

The operating room door opened.

The surgeon came out with his mask half off, his forehead covered in sweat.

Wen Zhaoye went to greet him, his throat tightening.

"doctor--"

The doctor looked at him and suddenly smiled.

"The surgery was a success."

Wen Zhaoye's mind went blank for a moment, but it wasn't the kind of buzzing that meant something bad.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say thank you, but his throat seemed to be blocked by something, and he could only squeeze out two words.

"Thank you." The doctor patted him on the shoulder. "The patient will be in the ICU for observation for two days. If there are no complications, she can be transferred to a regular ward. Young man, your grandmother is tough."

Finished talking and left.

Wen Zhaoye stood still, his back against the wall.

The wall was quite cold, but he felt sweating all over.

He took out his phone and glanced at the time.

I've been sitting for six hours.

At four o'clock in the afternoon, Grandma was transferred from the ICU to a ward.

When Wen Zhaoye went in, Grandma's face regained some color.

The oxygen tube has been replaced with a nasal cannula. The monitor is still beeping, but it sounds much more stable than last night.

He sat down by the bed and held his grandmother's hand in his own.

That hand was thin and dry, with wrinkled skin, just bones and skin.

Wen Zhaoye recalled that when he was a child, these hands had made dumplings for him, knitted sweaters for him, and also spanked him.

He looked down at the hand and didn't say anything.

After a while, Grandma's brow twitched, and her lips moved slightly. "Teruno..."

Wen Zhaoye quickly approached, "Grandma?"

Grandma's eyes were closed, and she was drowsy, as if she were talking in her sleep.

"If your dad saw you like this..." He fell asleep again before he could finish his sentence.

Wen Zhaoye stood there, stunned.

Grandma's hand was still clenched in his.

He stared at his grandmother's face, and something inside him felt like it had been poked.

It's dark outside.

The only light in the ward came from the monitor and the warmth of his grandmother in his palm.

Wen Zhaoye did not turn on the lights.

He sat by the bed, holding his grandmother's hand, watching the view outside the window change from light to dark, and then from dark to deep black.

Footsteps could be heard occasionally in the corridor. A nurse came in to check on the patients once and then left.

He never let go of that hand.

The phone screen lit up in the early hours of the morning.

Yu Tinglan sent me a WeChat message.

Keep the card safe. Whether you use it or not is your business; whether I give it to you or not is mine.

Wen Zhaoye glanced at it but did not reply.

He put his phone back in his pocket and took his grandmother's hand again.

The sky outside the window gradually brightened.