Chapter 10
Representative Chen, a man whose tailored suit seemed to absorb all available light, stood by the consultation room door, a thick, embossed folder in his hand. His presence, unannounced and perfectly timed, radiated an unsettling authority. He wasn't a family member, yet his words carried more weight than Lin Guozhang’s. Zhao Meilan and Lin Zhenyu hovered near him, their faces a mix of strained deference and barely concealed triumph.
“A minor adjustment, Mr. Lin,” Chen began, his voice smooth, placing the folder on the table. “Given the… unforeseen delays. Our principal is, naturally, concerned about the restaurant’s operational continuity. We’ve drafted a provisional clause. It states that, in the event of any sustained medical incapacity, the transfer can proceed with a designated family signatory, provided the attending physician confirms the elder’s stable, albeit non-responsive, state.”
Zhao Meilan stepped forward, her smile brittle. “A necessary precaution, Yichen. The restaurant cannot wait. It’s a matter of days before the entire deal collapses. This clause… it provides the stability we need.” She glanced at Lin Guozhang, who remained silent, his gaze fixed on the table, his usual bluster replaced by a grim resignation. He knew this move was a checkmate, designed to bypass any medical obstruction Yichen might raise.
Lin Zhenyu, emboldened by Chen’s presence, chimed in. “It’s a lifeline, cousin. You’ve done what you could, but the business comes first. We can’t let sentiment ruin everything.”
Yichen picked up the folder. The clause was indeed provisional, but its implications were anything but. It was a thinly veiled attempt to force the sale through, stripping the elder of any agency and, more critically, insulating the buyers from any liability if the elder’s condition worsened post-transfer. He scanned the medical language, noting the carefully chosen phrasing: stable, albeit non-responsive. It was a semantic trap, designed to sound medically benign while legally devastating.
“This clause,” Yichen said, his voice level, “requires the attending physician to confirm a ‘stable, non-responsive’ state. Dr. Shen Qiaowen is the attending physician. Her current assessment, based on the recent cardiac event and the ongoing observation, is ‘critical, unstable.’ There is no medical basis, nor ethical leeway, for her to sign off on this. Doing so would constitute medical malpractice and legal fraud, exposing not only the hospital but also any signatory to severe penalties.” He looked directly at Representative Chen. “Your principal is aware that this clause, as written, is an attempt to circumvent standard medical protocol and could be construed as coercion, particularly given the elder’s current condition?”
Chen’s smooth facade flickered. He hadn't expected such a direct, legally informed pushback. Zhao Meilan’s face tightened. Lin Zhenyu sputtered, but Yichen cut him off with a glance.
“Furthermore,” Yichen continued, “the clause references a ‘designated family signatory.’ Who is this signatory? And what medical documentation are they relying on to make such a designation? Because if it’s the same incomplete and mismatched records we’ve been reviewing, it will not hold up to scrutiny.”
Lin Guozhang finally stirred, a muscle twitching in his jaw. He saw the legal trap Yichen had exposed, the precise way Yichen had turned the ally’s gambit back on them. The restaurant’s transfer, already precarious, would become a legal quagmire if Yichen continued to flag the medical discrepancies. He glanced at Chen, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head – a silent admission that Yichen had found a genuine weakness.
“Meilan,” Lin Guozhang said, his voice raspy, “the old records. The locked box. Give them to him.”
Zhao Meilan’s eyes widened in disbelief, then narrowed into slits of pure venom directed at Yichen. “Guozhang! Those are private! Ancestral!”
“Now!” Guozhang’s voice rose, a rare command that cut through her protest. He knew Yichen had leverage. He had to concede this small battle to prevent a larger, more public defeat. “Let him see. Let him prove he’s not wasting our time.”
With a furious, silent glare, Zhao Meilan stalked out, returning moments later with a heavy, dust-covered wooden box, its brass lock gleaming. She slammed it onto the table, the sound echoing in the tense room. “Don’t expect miracles,” she hissed at Yichen, her voice low and dangerous. “You’ll find nothing but history.”
The fluorescent hum of the hospital records office was the only sound for long minutes. Yichen stared at the digital file on the screen, the newly acquired paper records spread across the table beside him. Dr. Shen Qiaowen, her brow furrowed, leaned closer, her skepticism a palpable presence. “Are you certain this is the correct patient ID, Mr. Lin?” she asked, her voice low. “The hospital system shows a clearance for discharge was issued, but the medication log… it’s incomplete for the last 48 hours.”
Yichen pointed to a small, almost imperceptible anomaly in the timestamp metadata. “It’s not incomplete, Doctor. It’s been overwritten. Look at the original entry, the one that shows the elder’s true, deteriorating condition, was archived, not deleted.” He clicked, and a hidden tab opened, revealing a scanned, handwritten note from the attending physician, explicitly stating: DO NOT DISCHARGE – CRITICAL CONDITION. REQUIRES IMMEDIATE CARDIAC REVIEW. “And the clearance?” Yichen continued, his finger tracing a signature. “It was signed off by a junior intern, not the attending physician, just hours before the proposed transfer. An intern with no authority for such a discharge.”
The hum of the office suddenly felt like a roar. Dr. Shen’s eyes widened, her skepticism replaced by a cold, professional fury. This wasn't just negligence; it was deliberate. The proof, stark and undeniable, lay bare on the screen: a forged discharge order, a suppressed medical record, and a clear attempt to move a critically ill patient out of the hospital before their true state could be fully assessed.
Yichen then turned to the physical documents from the locked box. He pulled out a family-held prescription copy, dated two days prior. He laid it next to the hospital’s official pharmacy record. The medication was the same, but the dosage on the family-held copy was drastically different, a critical alteration that directly contradicted the hospital's official pharmacy record for the same period. This wasn't just negligence; it was a deliberate, life-threatening manipulation of the elder's treatment. Yichen looked up from the documents, his gaze sweeping across Dr. Shen, then to the empty space where Zhao Meilan had stood. The proof was undeniable, and the question now wasn't if someone had tried to kill the elder, but who.