I Turned Filthy Rich Just By Sleeping With Women?!-Chapter 46: Madam He Critical Condition

From what Zhao Yiming had gathered from the tenants in the shopping district, Madam He was still in the ER. Without wasting a second, the three of them rushed to the hospital.

As expected, the hospital was crowded—people came and went in waves, some crying, others praying.

The ER was a chaotic blend of urgency and sorrow, filled with the sounds of pain, machines beeping, and doctors shouting orders.

In the corner of the waiting room, Zhao Yiming spotted the frail figure of Mr. Wu. He sat hunched over, his back bent like a man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His eyes were empty. Hollow. As if the life had been drained out of him.

"Mr. Wu... is your wife alright?" Luo Yanyu was the first to approach, kneeling beside him gently.

He didn’t respond. For a moment, there was only silence—thick and suffocating.

"She... she’s in the ICU now. I can’t see her," he finally murmured, voice hoarse and trembling. "The doctor said I can’t see her..."

His hands clutched the fabric of his pants tightly, shaking.

"She’ll be okay, Mr. Wu," Luo Yanyu said softly. "Your wife is strong—she’ll pull through."

He only nodded faintly.

Watching that pitiful sight, something inside Zhao Yiming snapped. He stood up abruptly, unable to stay silent any longer.

"Mr. Wu, are you really going to sell your shop?" he asked, his voice sharp. "Isn’t that place the heaven you built with your wife?"

Su Meilin leaned in and whispered urgently, "Yiming... I don’t think this is the right time to say that..."

Mr. Wu gave a long, weary sigh. "I don’t have a choice. The shop doesn’t make much money anymore."

He paused. "With the money, I’ll take my wife to the countryside. We’ll live peacefully there... away from all this."

"You’re just giving up?" Zhao Yiming snapped. "That shop was your dream! Don’t sell it for a cheap price like that—I’ll pay the hospital bills myself!"

Mr. Wu finally looked up, eyes burning now with something more than grief.

"What did you say, brat?!" he growled. "You think I can’t pay for my wife’s medical bills?!"

He pushed Zhao Yiming in the chest—not that it moved him at all—but the gesture was raw, desperate.

"You’ve got no right to say that! You’re just some stranger! Get the hell out of here, dumbass!"

Zhao Yiming didn’t back down. "Mr. Wu, I care about you and your wife—that’s why I want to help!"

Mr. Wu struck him across the chest. "Care? Don’t make me laugh!" he spat. "You don’t care about my wife or Lianwu Street. You just don’t want to lose to that gangster bastard! This is all about your ego!"

Zhao Yiming froze, stunned by his words. Maybe he was right—at least partly. Maybe it had become about proving himself. But even so... wasn’t he still trying to help?

Before he could respond, a voice echoed over the hospital’s PA system:

"Mr. Wu Taisheng and family, please proceed to the ICU."

The four of them stood frozen for a second—then Mr. Wu suddenly bolted up and ran like a madman, cane forgotten.

Zhao Yiming blinked, completely baffled. How the hell can he run that fast all of a sudden?!

When they arrived at the ICU, a doctor was already waiting for them. Mr. Wu rushed forward, breathless.

"Doctor! Is my wife okay?!"

The doctor smiled gently. "Calm down, Mr. Wu. Your wife is stable now—she’s awake."

A heavy silence fell. The tension broke.

"You can see her now," the doctor added, "though not all of you at once."

He glanced at the trio behind Mr. Wu.

"If you’d like, you may bring one person in with you."

Mr. Wu hesitated for a moment. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he turned to Zhao Yiming.

"You—come with me, brat."

Zhao Yiming blinked, then quickly nodded. "Of course. I’ll go with you, Mr. Wu."

***

Inside the ICU, the room was filled with the mechanical symphony of survival—monitors beeping steadily, ventilators humming, and machines working tirelessly as if fighting the Grim Reaper himself to keep the patients breathing.

Zhao Yiming and Mr. Wu had donned sterile surgical gowns provided by the staff, entering quietly.

Madam He lay on the hospital bed, frail and pale. Though she wasn’t on a ventilator, an oxygen mask covered her face, her breaths were shallow and uneven.

According to the doctor, her injuries were severe. Her old, brittle bones couldn’t handle the fall—several ribs had broken and punctured a lung, and multiple fractures had occurred in her feet. It was a miracle she was still conscious.

Her recovery would be long. Painful. Exhausting.

"Wife... are you alright? Are you hurting anywhere?"

Mr. Wu asked softly, his voice gentle—so uncharacteristically soft that even Zhao Yiming blinked in surprise.

The man who always barked and scolded now sounded like a worried child.

His wrinkled hand gently grasped hers. She stirred, just barely, turning her head to face him. With a weak nod, she lifted her trembling hand and slowly removed the oxygen mask.

"Did you eat already...? Or is it night now? How long have I been sleeping?" Her voice was hoarse, each word strained. Just breathing clearly caused her pain.

"Madam He, please keep the oxygen mask on," Zhao Yiming said quickly, helping her place it back. "Mr. Wu is fine. He’s here with you."

"Why are you asking about food?!" Mr. Wu grumbled with a sigh, his voice tense but still gentle. "Your health is all that matters!"

"Husband... do we have the money to pay for all this?" she asked again, her voice growing weaker, eyes half-lidded.

"Don’t talk about money right now! You don’t need to worry about that. I’ve got it handled!" he said, scolding her with uncharacteristic care.

"Madam He... your husband is selling the store," Zhao Yiming cut in carefully.

Mr. Wu’s face twisted in irritation as he grabbed Zhao Yiming by the collar of his hospital gown. "Shut up! I brought you here to see her, not to upset her!"

But Zhao Yiming didn’t back down. He calmly removed Mr. Wu’s hand from his robe.

"No. You brought me here because you couldn’t say it yourself."

He looked at Madam He, his voice steady but pleading. "Please, Madam He—don’t let him sell the store."

"YOU—!"

But Mr. Wu suddenly stopped when he felt her frail hand press against his chest.

"Husband..." Her eyes shimmered. "Please don’t sell it. You know that shop... that place is our only home. That’s where we promised we’d stay... until we rot together."

Mr. Wu opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He looked away.

Then Madam He turned to Zhao Yiming, her voice trembling but sincere.

"Please... help us, Zhao Yiming. I beg you."

And just then—

[Ding!]

[New Quest Triggered!]