The Overlord Flower's Guide to Intercepting a Woman's Wife's Death and the Male Lead&

Zhou Bingwen shuffled into the medical team's ward, slipping on his shoes.

Song Qingqing was already lying in the hospital bed, shivering all over.

Han Yuzhi squatted by the bed and gripped Song Qingqing's hand tightly.

"Dr. Zhou, please take a look at her!"

"Sister-in-law, let go, let me check first."

Zhou Bingwen opened Song Qingqing's eyelids and then performed abdominal percussion and lung auscultation.

What did you eat before you vomited?

"The noodles are the same as what we eat."

"How much did you vomit?"

Han Yuzhi gestured tremblingly, "About half a bowl."

The on-duty nurse hurriedly drew two vials of blood.

Zhou Bingwen sat at the table and looked through Song Qingqing's physical examination records from last month, finding that all indicators were normal.

The test results came out 20 minutes later.

He stared at it for three times.

Despite the absence of a focal infection, severe immunosuppression and a precipitous decline in liver and kidney function were observed.

Han Yuzhi leaned closer and grabbed his wrist: "How serious is it?"

Zhou Bingwen placed the lab report face down on the table.

"Sister-in-law, the situation is complicated. I suggest transferring her to a major hospital in Beijing as soon as possible."

Han Yuzhi's eyes were red, and she kept muttering that this child had a hard life.

"Your vital signs are still intact. I'll start the glucose drip. Please ask your superiors to arrange for your transfer."

After everyone left, the medical team was unusually quiet.

Zhou Bingwen opened the medical record book.

He wrote the words "cause of illness to be determined" on it, still holding the pen cap in his palm.

He thought of his second sister-in-law, Su Xingmian, who had written the same words in this notebook last time, and now there was one more.

These are two cases for which he has absolutely no answers.

Zhou Bingwen capped the pen, feeling a pang of sadness in his heart.

He could only blame it on the fact that he studied orthopedics, but he also had a strange feeling that there was something he couldn't reach lying beneath these two things.

This annoyed him even more.

……

breakfast.

Fang Lan cooked a pot of porridge in the kitchen.

Zhou Bingwen sat down, holding his enamel mug, and said listlessly, "Song Qingqing vomited blood last night, and the cause of her illness cannot be found."

Fang Lan paused for a moment while scooping porridge with her spoon.

She casually agreed and placed the bowl of porridge, still coated with rice oil, in front of Su Xingmian.

Su Xingmian lowered her head and took the bowl, her eyelashes trembling slightly.

This time, Song Qingqing suffered an even more severe backlash than when she married the old fox last time.

She fed the rice porridge into her mouth; it smelled so good today.

The matter was thus forgotten, and no one cared whether Song Qingqing lived or died.

Su Xingmian scraped the last bit of porridge from the bottom of the bowl, then put down her chopsticks.

"Mom, I'm taking you to see my vegetable garden today."

Fang Lan and Zhou Bingwen put down their bowls and nodded at the same time.

*

In November, at the foot of Helan Mountain, the wind carries sand and gravel that stings your face.

Fang Lan wrapped half her face with a scarf and followed Su Xingmian toward the outside of the east wall.

Zhou Bingwen followed behind with his hands in his pockets, his mind still replaying the numbers on the test report.

Fang Lan stopped as she rounded the wall.

Six soldiers are building the framework of a cold shed in half a wasteland.

That's not the point.

Fang Lan stared at the continuous green expanse on the ground.

The spinach leaves were thick and glossy, clinging tightly to the ground.

Clumps of sand onions shoot straight up, reaching about knee-high to an adult.

The cilantro in the corner was densely packed.

This is the Gobi Desert in Northwest China during this season.

Fang Lan pulled off her scarf, forgetting the wind and sand.

"Is it November?"

Su Xingmian approached, picked a piece of wild onion, and handed it to him.

"Mom, smell it."

The spicy, refreshing aroma hits your nose.

Fang Lan couldn't resist and pinched off a small piece and put it in her mouth.

The spiciness lingered on my tongue, but the aftertaste was surprisingly sweet.

She held up the remaining half of the wild onion, looked at the field, and then at Su Xingmian.

He couldn't utter a single word.

Zhou Bingwen huddled close to the spinach patch, unable to move for a long time: "These leaves, even those specially supplied from the capital aren't this thick. Second sister-in-law, what method did you use?"

Ma Chunlan walked over from the other side of the field, her trouser legs covered in mud.

"Political Commissar's wife, these spinach plants can be harvested. Each one has four large leaves and the roots are firmly planted."

Fang Lan bent down and tried to pull it, but couldn't budge it.

"Sister Ma, let's cut this patch first," Su Xingmian decided.

Ma Chunlan took out a small dagger, and Su Xingmian also squatted down, hooked two fingers around the spinach stem and pulled it upwards along the soil.

Green juice oozed from the cut surface, and a rich aroma of vegetables wafted through the dry air.

Fang Lan stood there watching her quick and efficient movements, and suddenly felt a tightness in her throat.

This girl had been married for less than three months when she was kidnapped by human traffickers and interrogated as a spy, but she managed to grow this whole field of vegetables on the saline-alkali wasteland.

Half an hour later, a bunch of spinach was placed into the basket.

Su Xingmian picked up the bamboo basket and weighed it in her hand.

"Everyone has divided it up; we'll add more dishes for lunch."

……

Zhou Bingwen sat on a small stool under the jujube tree, chewing something with his cheeks bulging, a small pile of jujube pits in front of him.

"Second sister-in-law, what are you cooking today?"

Su Xingmian placed the bamboo basket on the stove and tied on her apron.

"Spinach and egg soup, stir-fried luncheon meat with shallots, and cilantro salad."

Fang Lan rolled up her sleeves and went to wash the vegetables.

Heat the iron wok and add a spoonful of lard to the bottom.

Add the chopped shallots.

An overpowering fragrance wafts over you instantly.

Fang Lan took a half step back.

She had never smelled anything like this before; it was spicy yet sweet, with a really long-lasting aftertaste, completely unlike any vegetable she knew.

Slice the luncheon meat thinly and fry it in a pan until it develops a golden-brown crust.

The savory aroma of the meat and the sweet aroma of the shallots collide perfectly.

The aroma wafted into the alleyway along the chimney.

Two military wives passing by stopped at the same time, gasped for breath, and peered curiously in their direction.

Next, we'll make the second dish.

Blanch the spinach for ten seconds and remove it from the water. Pour the beaten egg into boiling water, then sprinkle with salt and a little sesame oil.

Fang Lan picked up the small bowl and took the first sip.

She immediately put the spoon down.

Surprisingly, this spinach is sweet, with a refreshing aftertaste.

"Mom, is it good?"

"If your dad comes, this pot of soup won't even be enough for him."

The last dish is made with soy sauce, aged vinegar, a little sesame oil, and a pinch of dried chili flakes.

Cilantro leaves, dripping with water, are served as a cold salad.

Zhou Bingwen picked up four mouthfuls of stir-fried luncheon meat with sand onions, his mouth glistening with oil.

"Second sister-in-law, hurry up and open a restaurant in the capital. I'll provide the logistics support."

Fang Lan slapped him on the back of the head, telling him to hurry up and eat and stop talking.

The three dishes were quickly devoured.

Fang Lan put down her chopsticks.

"Xingmian, if you plant all of your acre of land, that would be incredible."

"Next spring, we'll expand to three mu (approximately 0.2 acres), and once the yield increases, it will be enough to distribute to the entire family compound and the outpost on the mountain."

Fang Lan nodded, already able to imagine how the garrison would treat her daughter-in-law in the future.

Once she firmly establishes herself in the base, no one will dare to make things difficult for her again.

Su Xingmian brought over a plate of reddish-brown dried jujubes, with a layer of white frost on the surface.

"Mom, try this. I've saved up two jars for you to take with you, and I'll send the second batch in a while."

Fang Lan put one in her mouth and chewed it.

The taste is sour at first, then sweet, and it makes your mouth water.

Fang Lan, with a dried jujube in her mouth, felt completely relieved.

After washing the dishes, Su Xingmian brought over a wooden stool.

"Mom, sit here, let me take your pulse."

She pressed her fingertips against the three points of the cun, guan, and chi meridians, and quietly felt them for half a minute.

"Mom is feeling much better."

Fang Lan laughed happily.

"I used to feel weak by the afternoon when I was rehearsing for the cultural troupe, but these past two months, I haven't felt tired even after rehearsing all day. It's like I've become ten years younger."

She counted the changes in herself on her fingers.

"And my migraines, which I've had for over ten years, used to flare up whenever the weather changed. But they've gotten much better in the last two months, and I can sleep soundly through the night without waking up."

Su Xingmian nodded, and then inquired about the situation of her grandparents.

"Your grandfather's leg has been walking very nimbly ever since you had the shrapnel removed. He even went for a morning run in the park last month."

Fang Lan spoke with a relaxed expression.

"Your grandma is more energetic now, and she eats half a bowl more than before."

Su Xingmian rummaged through the cabinet and pulled out a blue coarse cloth bag. She untied the rope and found hundreds of round, black pills inside.

"I made another batch, and Mom took it back for the family to continue eating."

Fang Lan took the bag and weighed it in her hand; it was quite heavy.

"If I meet someone I like, I can give them a couple as a small health gift."

Fang Lan deftly put the pills into her handbag.

Then she changed the subject.

"Xingmian, you've been married for over two months now."

"yes."

"Have you taken care of Bingheng's payroll?"

Su Xingmian paused for a moment before whispering that she had forgotten.

Fang Lan patted her.

"You silly child, how could you forget this? Have you completely forgotten what your mother told you before?"

She held Su Xingmian's hand and gave him earnest advice.

"Don't be fooled by your second son's respectable appearance on the outside; he's got a lot of ulterior motives in his head."

Fang Lan sighed.

"If you don't manage his money, you'll be kept in the dark about what he buys with it. Just think about the good things your dad did in the past."

Su Xingmian felt even more guilty; she still owed her father-in-law a pot of clivia.

Fang Lan patted her trouser leg and stood up, telling her to get this done tonight.

As she reached the door, she turned back and gave him another instruction.

"If he dares not to give it to you, then tell me."

Su Xingmian watched Fang Lan leave, then turned to look at the scape that had grown to be as thick as two fingers.

She shook off her thorns, as if she were also planning how to ask the old fox for her wages tonight.