When Jiang Zhou and Dr. Zheng arrived in Beijing, they immediately met up with Bai Guolin. The moment Bai Guolin saw Jiang Zhou, he almost didn’t recognize the once proud young master of the Jiang family. Jiang Zhou had lost a lot of weight and looked utterly worn out, likely due to prolonged sleepless nights worrying about Jiang Ruo’s condition.
Jiang Zhou, however, wasted no time dwelling on his own appearance. As soon as he saw Bai Guolin, he asked, “Where’s the data you mentioned earlier?”
Bai Guolin quickly pulled out his phone and displayed the photographs. “It’s all here. Including the person who came to the blood donation center yesterday, there are a total of 36 contacts. I haven’t reached out to any of them yet.”
Although the list had 36 people, it included Jiang Li, whom they didn’t dare touch, leaving only 35 contacts. But for Bai Guolin and Jiang Zhou, having 35 people to work with was already a significant number. Surely, at least one of them would be a match.
Hearing their conversation, Dr. Zheng frowned in confusion and asked, “So you haven’t actually found any panda blood carriers, but just collected these contacts from the blood donation center?”
Bai Guolin nodded immediately. “Yes. Is there a problem with that?”
Dr. Zheng smirked mockingly. “Well, why don’t you try contacting them and see how many you can actually reach?”
Jiang Zhou frowned, “What are you implying?”
Dr. Zheng finally explained seriously, “Anyone who has donated blood will leave their information at the donation center, so these records are likely accumulated over many years. Blood donors often move on—some pass away, some fall ill, some move to other places, and some even leave the country. The number of people you can actually contact will be very small.”
That was precisely why Rh-negative blood was called panda blood—it was simply that rare. Blood donors with this type couldn’t donate frequently, and the blood itself couldn’t be stored for long. By the time someone needed it, the donors were often impossible to locate.
Hearing this, Bai Guolin panicked. “T-then… what should we do?”
Dr. Zheng sighed. “What else can you do? You’ll just have to try contacting them one by one. I’m a doctor, and my job is to conduct compatibility tests and perform surgeries. Don’t expect me to help you find donors.”
Jiang Zhou appeared much calmer than Bai Guolin. “Then we’ll contact them one by one. If this batch doesn’t work out, there will always be another batch.” There were blood donation centers across the country—they would eventually find a suitable kidney for Ruoruo.
Encouraged by Jiang Zhou’s calmness, Bai Guolin immediately volunteered to take responsibility for contacting the donors. Since he had volunteered at the blood donation center, even if the contacted individuals grew suspicious, it wouldn’t be easy for them to expose him quickly.
With that, Bai Guolin began calling the people on the list one by one. However, the more calls he made, the more disappointed he became.
As Dr. Zheng had predicted, many of the numbers on the list were no longer in service. Some were disconnected, while others belonged to elderly individuals who were no longer fit to donate blood and refused outright. Those who could be contacted were either living far away or had moved overseas, claiming they couldn’t return to donate and then hanging up immediately.
There were also a few local individuals who said they couldn’t donate because less than six months had passed since their last donation. Not wanting to arouse suspicion, Bai Guolin had no choice but to temporarily give up on those individuals.
After over twenty calls with no results, Jiang Zhou’s expression grew increasingly gloomy. Finally, he said to Bai Guolin. “Didn’t you say someone with panda blood came to register at the center yesterday?”
Someone who proactively came to register was likely willing to donate blood, significantly increasing the chances of reaching them.
“But it was her first time registering,” Bai Guolin said hesitantly. “It takes at least three days for the blood test results to be ready. If I call her now, she’ll definitely grow suspicious.”
Jiang Zhou sighed in frustration. “Then keep calling. We’re bound to find one or two eventually.”
Bai Guolin nodded and resumed dialing numbers.
…
When Jiang Li gave Tong Yi the scarf, he immediately put it around his neck. “You see, it’s really warm and looks great, too.”
‘I have dropped such an obvious hint. Surely Jiang Xiao Li will understand that I like handmade gifts from her, right?’
Jiang Li raised an eyebrow. “It’s not that cold yet, so of course, it’s warm.”
Tong Yi, still as happy as a toddler receiving a new toy, was not discouraged, “When the temperature drops more, it’ll really come in handy.” Then he looked at Jiang Li and added, “You should knit one for yourself, too. It’s really practical.”
Jiang Li shook her head. “I don’t like handmade scarves.”
Tong Yi immediately offered, “I can’t knit, but I can buy one for you. Let’s pick one out together.”
Jiang Li thought for a moment and replied, “If you buy me a scarf, that’ll count as one of my birthday gifts for me this year. On your birthday, I’ll give you one extra gift.”
Tong Yi: “…”
‘The way Jiang Xiao Li calculating things so precisely doesn’t feel like a good sign!’
…
Back in the Minjiang City, Old Master Feng received a package from Beijing. As soon as he saw it, he knew it was from his beloved granddaughter. Since she had sent local specialties home once before, he assumed it was the same this time. However, the package was surprisingly light, and he couldn’t guess what it was.
Upon opening it, Old Master Feng found two scarves—one dark-colored and the other light-colored. After reading the handwritten note from Jiang Li, he learned that one of the scarves was for Feng Qi.
That evening, Feng Qi received a call from his father.
“A’Qi, I have a question for you,” Old Master Feng’s voice was unusually warm and affectionate.
Feng Qi had a feeling the question wouldn’t be a good one, but still replied, “Go ahead.”
“I just want to know, do you plan on wearing a scarf this winter?”
Feng Qi: “…”
Every winter, his father would proudly show off the scarves that Xiao Lizi had knitted for him. The entire family had long grown used to it. But this year’s winter hadn’t even arrived yet, and he was already calling to gloat. This was a bit excessive, wasn’t it?
In a flat tone, Feng Qi replied, “I spend most of my time in the lab. I don’t need a scarf.”
Old Master Feng let out an “oh” and said, “Xiao Jiang Li sent two scarves she knitted herself and said one of them is for you. But since it seems like you don’t need it, I’ll just keep both for myself.”
Feng Qi: “???”
Wait, his father had said all that just to dig a pit for him?
He had underestimated him!
But there was no way the scarf would leave his hands. Not in this lifetime.
Feng Qi had not expected that Jiang Li would knit a scarf for him, but what surprised him even more was that his old father, despite already having one scarf, would try to take the one meant for him. After a few seconds, he slowly said, “Dad, I’ve set up an auto-recording feature on my phone. Everything you just said has been recorded.”
Old Master Feng paused for a moment before replying, “So what if it’s recorded? I didn’t say anything inappropriate—it’s you who doesn’t want the scarf.”
“Well,” Feng Qi responded calmly. “That’s fine. I’ll just play the recording for Xiao Lizi and let her interpret it however she wants.”
Old Master Feng: “…”
About five seconds later, the old man grudgingly said, “Fine, fine, I was just joking. You really can’t even take a little joke. You weren’t cute as a kid, and you’ve only grown less cute as an adult.”
Feng Qi hung up the phone with satisfaction. Whether he was ‘cute’ or not didn’t matter—what mattered was that the scarf was his.
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