117: Chapter 117 is worth the price.

Zhang Guifang recovered much faster than expected.

On the second day after the surgery, the tracheal tube was removed, and by the third morning, she was already able to lean against the headboard and eat porridge on her own.

Her complexion still carried the sallow look of someone who had just survived a major illness, but her eyes had regained their spirit, and her voice had strength when she spoke.

After flipping through the test reports, the attending physician took off his glasses and said, "She's recovering well. After two more days of observation, she can be moved to a regular ward."

The tension that had kept Lu Zheng wound tight for days finally eased.

Heavy dark circles still hung under his eyes, and his eyes were bloodshot, but they finally showed some life, no longer looking like they were barely holding on and could snap at any moment.

On the afternoon of the third day, Jiang Chen pushed open the ward door.

Zhang Guifang was leaning against the raised hospital bed with two pillows propped behind her back.

Seeing Jiang Chen enter, she was stunned for a moment. Her gaze rested on his face for two seconds, and her lips moved: "Mr. Jiang, you've come."

Jiang Chen walked to the bedside and sat down. "Auntie, how are you feeling?"

Zhang Guifang's hand rested on the quilt; it was still thin, but no longer as withered as a winter branch like it had been before the surgery.

She looked at Jiang Chen, and her eyes slowly turned red. "Mr. Jiang, I heard from Lu Zheng... You were the one who saved my life."

Jiang Chen waved his hand. "Auntie, let's not talk about that. Your recovery is more important than anything else."

Zhang Guifang gripped the corner of the quilt, her clouded eyes filling with tears, and in the end, she simply nodded vigorously.

Coming out of the ward, Lu Zheng followed Jiang Chen to the window at the end of the hallway.

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the glass, casting a patch of warm yellow on the floor.

Lu Zheng stood in the light and remained silent for a few seconds before speaking: "Mr. Jiang, about the money..."

"That's enough."

Jiang Chen interrupted him, turning around to lean against the windowsill. "I have something to tell you."

Lu Zheng swallowed the rest of his words and stood up straight, waiting for him to speak.

Jiang Chen looked into his eyes and spoke in a flat tone: "I've offended some people in business lately, and they don't play by the rules. I need someone I can trust by my side—someone who can drive, can fight, and can keep their mouth shut."

He paused. "The monthly salary is thirty thousand, with room and board included. Your job is to drive and protect me."

Lu Zheng's gaze shifted, and his brow furrowed slightly as he was about to speak.

Jiang Chen didn't wait for him to decline and continued, his pace not fast but each sentence following closely: "I've already had an apartment prepared. It's a two-bedroom, three subway stops from here."

"I've also arranged for a caregiver, surnamed Liu. She has cared for several elderly people recovering from surgery; she's efficient and attentive. While you're with me, Sister Liu will take care of your mother. When I don't have anything going on, you can come back to see her anytime."

Lu Zheng's Adam's apple bobbed sharply.

He wasn't a fool.

From beginning to end, not a single word of Jiang Chen's was an act of charity.

A monthly salary of thirty thousand, room and board included, a two-bedroom apartment, and a dedicated caregiver.

This wasn't charity; it was employment.

It wasn't out of sympathy; it was that Jiang Chen truly needed someone reliable.

The details about the apartment and the caregiver whose name was even mentioned were things Jiang Chen provided in passing, yet they were exactly what Lu Zheng lacked most right now.

But precisely because he understood it clearly, he felt increasingly uneasy.

"Mr. Jiang."

Lu Zheng looked up, his tone sincere and carrying the stubbornness of a soldier.

"This salary is too high; I can't take it. My job is just driving and protecting you; it's not worth this price. Just give me the normal market salary for a bodyguard-driver, and I'll have no complaints."

He paused, his voice dropping but remaining firm: "You saved my mother's life and arranged everything so thoroughly for her. I will remember this kindness for the rest of my life. Being able to work for you is my duty. As for the money, it really doesn't need to be this much."

Jiang Chen looked at his sincere face and stubborn attitude. A flicker of imperceptible approval crossed his eyes, but his expression remained calm, showing no sign of backing down.

"The price I set has its reasons. This job may seem simple, but the risks are not small. Furthermore..."

He paused, his gaze falling on Lu Zheng's face. "There aren't many people I can trust with my back and my family affairs. You are worth this price."

His tone was certain, leaving no room for negotiation: "The salary will be as I said. Just do your job well and don't worry about anything else."

Lu Zheng stood where he was, his Adam's apple bobbing again.

He didn't know how to say pretty words—he never did.

So he simply stood tall, heels together, shoulders and back tensed into a straight line, and slowly lowered his head. His voice was raspy, as if forced out from his chest: "Mr. Jiang, from now on, wherever you point, I will strike."

Jiang Chen looked at him, silent for two seconds, then reached out and gave his shoulder a firm punch.

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear."

Lu Zheng looked up. His eyes were still red, but his gaze had settled, like a blade tempered in fire. The exhaustion and confusion of the past few days had faded, leaving only a resolute determination to move forward.

That evening, Jiang Chen handed the keys to the apartment to Lu Zheng.

Two keys—one for the security door and one for the building entrance—on a simple key ring. They felt cold in his palm but carried a heavy weight.

While his mother was asleep and the caregiver was temporarily looking after her, Lu Zheng took the opportunity to go see the apartment.

A south-facing two-bedroom apartment, cleaned spotless.

A pot of green dill sat on the coffee table in the living room, its leaves a vibrant green and freshly watered.

The kitchen stove was polished to a shine, and the refrigerator was stocked with rice, flour, oil, and salt.

Lu Zheng stood in the room for a while without saying a word, then locked the door and returned to the hospital.

It was already dark when he returned to the ward.

He sat by the bed, picked up an apple from the nightstand, and began to peel it.

Holding the fruit knife, his movements were half a beat slower than usual. Midway through, his fingertips paused for two or three seconds before he resumed peeling.

From start to finish, not a single word was spoken.

Another day passed, and Zhang Guifang's condition stabilized.

Jiang Chen arranged for the paperwork to be completed and had her transferred from the ICU to a VIP ward.

Lu Zheng helped her down from the transport bed and supported her as she slowly walked inside.

Zhang Guifang looked up.

A south-facing single room with a large window, where sunlight covered half the bed.

A sofa, a private bathroom, a television, and a cot for a companion were all provided.

The noise from the hallway was blocked out by the thick wooden door; the room was so quiet that only the occasional chirping of birds outside could be heard.

At some point, a fruit basket and a bouquet of flowers had appeared on the nightstand. The flowers were freshly arranged, with water droplets still on the petals.

Zhang Guifang sat down on the edge of the bed, her hand resting on the snow-white sheet. After a long silence, she turned to look at Lu Zheng.

Lu Zheng sat by the bed and recounted all of Jiang Chen's arrangements in detail.

The driving, the bodyguard work, the thirty-thousand monthly salary, the two-bedroom apartment, and the caregiver surnamed Liu.

And how he had tried to decline the high salary but was refused by Jiang Chen.

Zhang Guifang listened and remained silent for a long while.

She leaned against the pillow, her gaze passing over Lu Zheng's shoulder to rest on the freshly arranged flowers.

The ward was so quiet that only the chirping of birds outside could be heard.

Then she reached out and touched Lu Zheng's face.

Her hand hadn't fully regained its strength, and it felt light as it rested on his face.

"Son, we have met a benefactor."

Her voice still carried the weakness of her illness, but she spoke each word with great effort. "Mr. Jiang has been kind to us. Giving you a high salary is his way of recognizing and showing consideration for you."

"From now on, you must follow him with all your heart. Be steadfast and never have any second thoughts. You must be worthy of his kindness and his trust."

"I know, Mom."

Lu Zheng held her hand—lightly, yet with exceptional strength, as if grasping this heavy entrustment.

Sunlight poured in through the large window of the VIP ward, falling on the mother and son with a gentle warmth.