The Price of Filial Piety

Xiang Qing remained impassive, her posture unchanged as she continued to listen intently.

An Qi’s chest heaved violently several times. Finally, she squeezed her eyes shut and, with every ounce of strength she possessed, she let out a cry.

“Mom—!”

The cry was clear and resonant, echoing with a profound, soul-stirring quality. It carried the desperate grief of one who had burned all bridges, coupled with the defiant resolve of self-abandonment.

An immediate hush fell over their surroundings.

All eyes turned towards them.

Xiang Qing was satisfied.

Sitting upright, she felt the searing pain in her stomach miraculously abate by half.

‘It was worth it.’

That single ‘Mom’ was akin to a miraculous elixir.

Yet, this fleeting sense of spiritual triumph lasted less than three seconds.

The physiological torment, which had been forcibly suppressed, surged back with tenfold ferocity once the adrenaline faded.

“Ugh…”

Xiang Qing’s vision blurred, and an unbearable, sharp pain erupted in her stomach. Instinctively, she clutched her abdomen, her body coiling into a fetal position.

An Qi, across from her, was in no better state.

Having unleashed that cry, she had completely collapsed into her chair, her face ghost-white, sweat pouring down her brow as she gasped for breath.

“Are… are you alright?” An Qi asked, her voice unexpectedly tinged with concern as she watched Xiang Qing’s agony.

Xiang Qing was beyond words. She could only shake her head in distress, feeling as though she might foam at the mouth at any given moment.

“This is unbearable,” An Qi groaned, struggling to rise from her chair before snatching up her bag and car keys. “Come on! To the hospital! I swear my stomach has perforated!”

Xiang Qing was half-supported, half-dragged out of the hotpot restaurant by An Qi.

****

The hospital emergency room.

Under the stark, pale lights, the air hung heavy with the pungent scent of disinfectant.

Xiang Qing and An Qi lay side by side on two temporary cots, each with an IV needle in their arm, connected to identical drips.

The fiery torment in her stomach finally began to subside as the cool liquid flowed into her veins.

Xiang Qing closed her eyes, feeling utterly drained in both body and spirit, as if she had just emerged from a world war.

‘Being a nanny was proving to be exceptionally challenging.’

‘To earn a bit of money, how could she also be risking her life?’

In the enveloping silence, An Qi’s faint voice drifted from the adjacent bed.

“Hey.”

Xiang Qing ignored her.

‘Playing dead’ was an adult’s ultimate act of stubborn defiance.

“…Mom.”

An Qi called out once more, her voice small and tinged with a reluctant grievance.

Xiang Qing’s eyelids twitched.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and turned her head towards the adjacent cot.

An Qi was already gazing back, her makeup-free face appearing somewhat pale, yet her eyes shone brightly.

“What is it?” Xiang Qing rasped, her voice weak and hoarse, like a broken gong.

“I’m thirsty,” An Qi murmured, licking her own bloodless lips. “The nurse won’t let me have any water.”

Xiang Qing turned her head away, closing her eyes once more.

“Endure it.”

“But I’m genuinely thirsty,” An Qi insisted, relentless. “You’re my mom; you have to find a solution.”

Xiang Qing: “…”

‘She’s certainly embracing this role quickly.’

‘She yearned for a one-click uninstallation of this newly acquired ‘daughter’ application.’

“What if,” An Qi’s voice held a hint of expectation, “you tell me a story? It’ll distract me, and then I won’t feel thirsty anymore.”

Xiang Qing’s eyes snapped open. She whipped her head around to face An Qi, her expression clearly asking, ‘Are you out of your mind?’

‘All she wanted now was to hit a ‘format self’ button and be transported back to a parallel world where hotpot never existed.’

“…I… can’t…” Xiang Qing managed to squeeze out three words through gritted teeth, each syllable a raw testament to her aching bones.

“How can you not know how?”

An Qi’s tone was utterly righteous, as if she were reprimanding an irresponsible parent. “I’m your daughter now, and you won’t even tell me a story? Every other mom does!”

‘Every other mom?’

‘Every other mom wouldn’t be hooked up to IVs in the emergency room, right alongside her newly recognized daughter!’

‘Xiang Qing was sorely tempted to yank out her IV drip and administer a dose of ‘physical therapy’ to this ‘daughter’ who seemed to be defective right out of the factory.’

But she couldn’t.

She closed her eyes, resolving to activate her ultimate skill: playing dead.

“Mom, I know you’re awake,” An Qi’s voice drifted over. “Your eyelashes are twitching.”

An Qi’s voice, faint yet insistent, continued, “If you don’t respond to me, I’ll press the call button for the nurse and tell them my mom isn’t feeling well and is on the verge of collapsing.”

‘…This isn’t a daughter; this is clearly an ancestor who has come to collect a debt.’

Resigned, Xiang Qing opened her eyes, resolving to fight magic with magic.

‘So, it’s a story you want to hear, isn’t it?’

“Once upon a time,” Xiang Qing began, her voice still hoarse, “a little crow’s mother fell ill, lying motionless in her nest, craving worms.”

An Qi’s eyes brightened. “Is it the story of the crow’s filial piety?”

‘How touching!’

“No.”

Xiang Qing interrupted her, utterly expressionless. “The little crow painstakingly caught a plump, succulent green worm, preparing to feed it to its mother. Yet, before doing so, she suddenly thought, ‘This worm looks so delicious; it wouldn’t hurt to taste a bit first, would it?'”

Xiang Qing paused, her gaze fixed on An Qi’s expectant face.

“Then what?”

“Then she ate the whole worm.”

An Qi froze. “Huh? What about its mother?”

“It went back and told its mother that an eagle had snatched the worm on the way, and that it had fought desperately, even sustaining injuries. The mother crow was deeply moved, praising it as a filial and good child. Then, it starved to death.”

A peculiar silence descended upon them.

An Qi blinked, taking a moment to digest this dark fable, before slapping her thigh. “Wow! That little crow was so clever! It understood how to maximize its own benefit, and even managed to gain points for filial piety. Truly an elite among birds!”

Xiang Qing felt her stomach begin to cramp once more.

‘What peculiar wiring did this little devil have in her brain?’

‘She could even empathize with that?’

Just then, a nurse approached, pushing a cart to change their IV bags.

An Qi instantly dropped her irreverent expression, replacing it with a sweet, innocent smile as she addressed the nurse:

“Nurse-jie, my mom is telling me a story! She’s so good to me. She’s just the best.”

Having said that, she turned her head towards Xiang Qing, and with all the energy from her dantian, she cried out, brimming with profound affection:

“Mom—! I love you—!”

This cry was loud and soaring, possessing an incredibly penetrating quality.

Every eye in the room—from the patients hooked up to IVs to the family members accompanying them—snapped into focus on Xiang Qing’s ashen face.

Their gazes held a mixture of shock, gossip, approval, and a shared fascination with this display of “moving mother-daughter affection.”

Xiang Qing’s face, visibly and rapidly, shifted from ashen to crimson, and then from crimson to a deep, purplish-black.

She felt her toes frantically digging, attempting to excavate a hole in the hospital bed large enough for a dream castle, so she could crawl inside and disappear.

Social death arrived with such sudden, brutal efficiency.

She lost.

In the arena of shamelessness, she had suffered a crushing defeat.

****

Stepping out of the hospital, the night breeze revived Xiang Qing, though her stomach still felt as if it harbored a tiny, smoldering stove.

An Qi, on the other hand, had recovered with remarkable speed, already pulling out a compact mirror to check if her makeup had smudged.

“Well, I’m heading back now,” An Qi said, waving cheerfully. Her tone was light as she added, “Remember to miss me, Mom.”

Xiang Qing couldn’t be bothered to respond. All she wanted was to quickly summon a car, retreat to Gu Wei’s spacious home, and bury herself in the soft depths of the bed, effectively isolating herself from the world.

She stood by the roadside, having just opened her ride-hailing app, when a gentle yet profoundly familiar voice spoke from behind her.

“Xiao Qing?”

Xiang Qing’s body instantly froze.

‘That voice…’

Slowly, she turned, her gaze falling upon Shen Lanzhi, who stood bathed in the soft glow and shadows of the streetlamp.

Shen Lanzhi wore an elegant, understated long dress, and in her hand, she carried a familiar insulated food container. Her face, usually graced by a gentle smile, was utterly devoid of expression.

Alarm bells blared wildly in Xiang Qing’s mind.

‘How could she be here?’

‘At the hospital entrance?’

‘At this hour?’

‘Surely not?’

‘Could this be the legendary scene of catching a cheating partner?’

‘Though the gender of the ‘other party’ wasn’t quite right, the implications felt eerily similar.’

“Sister Lanzhi?” Xiang Qing managed, forcing her voice to sound normal. “What a coincidence! What brings you here?”

“I stewed some stomach-nourishing soup for you,” Shen Lanzhi replied, her tone unnervingly flat, so devoid of emotion it sent a chill down Xiang Qing’s spine. “I’ve been waiting for you for an hour.”

‘It’s over.’

‘She saw me, and that little devil An Qi, emerging from the hospital together?’

‘She couldn’t have possibly heard that earth-shattering ‘Mom,’ could she?!’

“Ah… um…”

Xiang Qing’s mind raced, desperate to concoct a plausible excuse. “Ah… um… I came to the hospital to visit a friend. They’re quite unwell, so I stayed with them a little longer.”

Shen Lanzhi offered no reply. She simply walked quietly to Xiang Qing’s side, still holding the insulated container.

“Let’s go home.”