Chapter 171: Chapter 171

The moment the truck hit, the car window shattered, countless shards flying and cutting into Shen Jianian’s cheeks, neck, and body, causing a tearing sensation all over, especially in her head, as if a sharp object had bored a hole into it.

From the initial intense pain to the point of losing consciousness, it all happened in an instant.

In her ears, the terrified screams of a girl sounded so dull in the rainy night. Shen Jianian opened her mouth, but no voice came out, as her body was flung into the air with the car before plummeting rapidly downward.

She forgot who said it, but supposedly, at the last moment of life, past memories flash through one’s mind like a revolving lantern, which proves to be untrue.

At this moment, she thought of Fu Jichen.

He should still be on the plane, eagerly awaiting to return home to see her, but unfortunately, she could never see him again.

Shen Jianian tightly gripped the white jade lion in her hand, closed her eyes, and tears mixed with blood on her face flowed down, seemingly hearing another "bang," as the taxi plunged into the dark river.

Cold river water poured in through the shattered windows, swiftly engulfing her body and filling her nose and throat. The suffocating feeling came so suddenly and powerfully that she had no strength left to struggle and lost all consciousness.

As torrential rain poured down, vehicles on both sides of the Cross River Bridge screeched to a halt due to the horrific traffic accident, causing a jam. Some called for ambulances, others reported the incident, and still more dialed the fire department.

In the chaos of the rainy night, no one noticed a man in black getting out of the taxi, anxiously turning around and running. Before the ambulances and firefighters arrived, he jumped into the river to save someone.

In such circumstances, even an adept swimmer wouldn’t dare to enter the water rashly unless they were willing to risk their life. Or perhaps they valued the life of the drowning person more than their own.

That night, it was also raining heavily in Beicheng. Even with doors and windows tightly shut, the sound of the rain disturbed people, making it hard to sleep.

The phone on the bedside table suddenly vibrated, waking the light-sleeping Wei Ronghua. She turned on the lamp, propped herself up on the pillow with an elbow, picked up the phone, and the familiar number flashing on the screen slightly gathered her scattered thoughts.

Wei Ronghua instinctively looked at the person lying beside her.

Fu Zhengjun had drunk quite a bit at a dinner party. He didn’t come home drunk, and after a bowl of ginseng soup to nourish his spirit, he fell asleep, his gentle snores indicating he was deeply asleep.

Still not reassured, Wei Ronghua took her phone and went out to take the call.

"Why are you calling so late?"

She had instructed the person in charge of surveillance to report any situation regarding Shen Jianian to her immediately, but calling at this hour was indeed inappropriate, so her tone was filled with deep resentment.

A man’s thick voice with a tinge of lament came through the phone: "The Miss Shen you asked me to keep an eye on just had a car accident and went into the river with the car. Firefighters are conducting rescue operations, and ambulances have also arrived at the scene."

Although Wei Ronghua didn’t like Shen Jianian, hearing about her accident still caused a jolt, which is only human.

"How... how could a car accident happen?" After a pause, she heard herself ask.

"My car was following behind and saw it clearly. A heavy truck hit the taxi that Miss Shen was in. Judging by the state of the accident, the chances of survival for the people inside the car are slim."

Wei Ronghua stood in the corridor, a gust of wind came from nowhere, chilling her to the bone. She raised her hand to press her chest, as her heart continued to race madly.

"In that case, you can withdraw, no need to follow up." Wei Ronghua said, lowering her voice.

Shen Jianian’s life or death has nothing to do with her. The car accident was an accident, indicating it was her destined ordeal, no one else to blame, whether she survives or not depends on her fortune.

Even thinking this way, Wei Ronghua couldn’t find peace of mind, muttering something without making a sound, only her lips moved.

With a "clatter," she was startled, dropping the phone to the floor. She bent down to pick it up, the dim corridor light reflecting her pale face.

Xiao Heting’s death was the only evil deed she committed in her life. Even if Shen Jianian died, it wasn’t her doing; she only wanted her to leave Jichen, never intended to harm her life.

There’s no need to panic, no need...

Wei Ronghua kept telling herself it had nothing to do with her, gradually calming her turbulent emotions.

She heard another "clatter" and looked up at the end of the corridor, realizing a servant forgot to close the second-floor ventilated window, causing it to swing back and forth in the wind and make a noise.

Wei Ronghua, holding her phone in both hands, walked over in a daze and shut the window.

Seeing a puddle of water on the floor, she couldn’t be bothered, turned around, and went back to the bedroom, where she saw Fu Zhengjun getting up from the bed, causing her previously calmed heart to stir again: "Why did you get up?"

Wei Ronghua forced a faint smile at her lips. Coupled with her pale face, it actually looked ugly, but she didn’t realize it. She shuffled in slippers to the bedside, placing a hand on her husband’s shoulder: "Is your stomach uncomfortable?"

The man often goes out for social engagements, and his stomach is somewhat upset.

"No, I’m going to the restroom."

Fu Zhengjun rubbed his temples, stood up, and the well-maintained hand on his shoulder dropped down.

Staring at her husband’s back, Wei Ronghua stood dazed for a few seconds. It wasn’t until the bathroom door closed that she retracted her gaze, lifted the quilt, and lay down on the bed, feeling cold from inside out.

When he returned to bed, Wei Ronghua instinctively moved closer to embrace her husband, wanting to draw warmth from him, seeking a sliver of psychological comfort.

Fu Zhengjun turned away from her and asked, "Why aren’t you asleep?"

Wei Ronghua didn’t overlook the loneliness that arose in her heart when he turned away. She steadied her tumultuous emotions and said, "The rain is too loud, it makes me uneasy. I went out to drink some water and found the servant hadn’t closed the window in the corridor, so I went to close it."

"Sleep," Fu Zhengjun said, then closed his eyes.

Wei Ronghua felt empty inside, as if a draft had entered. She reached out to turn off the lamp, tossing and turning, remembering many things she’d deliberately forgotten.

On the night Xiao Heting died, it seemed to be a night one, filled with rain.

When the news reached Beicheng, her intense mood swings induced labor, and she was sent to the hospital to deliver prematurely. Carrying twins was already more dangerous than a regular pregnancy. She lay on the operating table all night, slept for two days and a night before waking up, nearly losing her life.

Thankfully, her twins were born safely. During a routine check, the nurse even said the babies didn’t look like premature infants, especially the boy whose loud and bright cries promised a successful future.

However, her daughter was born with a heart condition.

Obviously, during her prenatal check-ups, everything had been meticulous. The doctor, in whom she had confidence, constantly assured her that both children were fine, their organs developing normally.

At that time, she thought it was divine punishment, living in constant terror, unable to rest well postpartum, often waking up from nightmares where Xiao Heting and her stillborn child came seeking her life.

In fact, she had never met Xiao Heting in person, only seen a few long-distance photos in her investigation dossier, barely discernible as a beauty. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have enchanted the eldest son of the Fu Family to the point of disregard for his family’s wishes, determined to marry her.

If she hadn’t schemed against Fu Zhengjun, spending a night with him after a family banquet, the Fu Family’s Madam today would have been someone else.

In another room of the Fu Family’s old house, Fu Yuling was also awake, just receiving a text message.

[The matter is settled.]

After reading the message, Fu Yuling smiled subtly, swiftly pulled out the SIM card, walked into the bathroom, and with fingers slightly relaxed, let the card fall into the toilet, then pressed the flush button, making the thumb-sized card vanish instantly.

At Jiangcheng First Hospital, a man dressed in black and soaked to the skin leaned against the wall outside the operating room, utterly exhausted, his face devoid of blood, paler than the lights.

The doctor brought the surgery consent form and asked in the hallway, "Who is the patient’s family?"

The man straightened up, his fingers digging into his palms to rouse himself from the pain: "Her family is no longer in this world. If there’s a need for a signature, I’ll sign."

"Are you her husband?"

"No," the man trembled as he spoke, "but I can be responsible for her life."

The situation was urgent, and the doctor quickly explained to the man before him, "The patient’s condition is very critical. She has multiple body fractures, brain hemorrhaging, and she’s pregnant. The child, barely two months old, can’t survive if medications are used in surgery. We’ll do our best to save her, but you must be prepared mentally..."

He couldn’t hear the rest; the only thing echoing in his mind was the doctor’s words about her being pregnant.

Not daring to waste time, he wiped away the tears that blurred his vision, gripped the pen in his hand, forcing it so tight that veins bulged on the back of his hand, and signed his name on the surgery consent form—Pei Che.

As the last stroke fell, the pen tip nearly tore the paper.

"Please, you must save her, I beg you."

Pei Che’s voice was hoarse and as brittle as a splitting tapestry, sounding became difficult. His eyes were wet and red-rimmed, filled with unbearable grief.

More than not having her, he was afraid of eternal separation from her.