Chapter 2

For an elderly person with difficulty swallowing, feeding porridge while they lie flat is the worst possible position.

I’d told Li Mei over and over. She never listened.

I turned my phone facedown and didn’t send a single message to the group.

Outside the window, dusk slowly settled. In the kitchen, the pot of soup burbled on the stove.

For the first time in seven years, my phone didn’t ring after work.

I’d muted the group chat for Mrs. Zhang’s family.

I knew something would happen there sooner or later.

But it was no longer my concern.

## Chapter 4: The Hidden Danger Breaks Out

For the first month, Li Mei was genuinely pleased.

She posted a screenshot in the group comparing her monthly pay to Wang Cuilan’s: five thousand, not a cent more.

The caption was just one line:

【A woman who knows how to manage a household knows where the money should go.】

The comments underneath were a row of thumbs-up.

Wang Cuilan was very good at playing her part, too.

Every day, she’d post a new update in the group: Mrs. Zhang finished a bowl of soft noodles today; Mrs. Zhang laughed so hard at my joke her wrinkles crinkled; Mrs. Zhang’s put on two ounces.

She was also good at ingratiating herself. Knowing Li Mei came home late from work, she’d often make dinner for her, too—a plate of glossy, fatty braised pork placed right on the table.

Li Mei turned around and shared a link on her social feed. The title read: “Finding a Good Caregiver Is a Blessing for the Whole Family.”

When I saw the post at Professor Chen’s home, I was checking his blood sugar two hours after a meal.

Professor Chen glanced over and said slowly,

“Isn’t that Ms. Li—the one who tried to haggle with you last time?”

“Yes,” I said, noting down his blood sugar without another word.

Things began to go wrong in the second month.

First, someone in the group asked, “Why haven’t we heard anything from Mrs. Zhang these past few days?”

Wang Cuilan replied almost at once:

“She’s been lazy and sleeping a lot lately. I’m right here keeping an eye on her.”

Two days later, Auntie Liu ran into Wang Cuilan in the elevator. She saw her carrying a plastic bag toward the trash bin. Inside was a freshly changed bedsheet, yellowed and soaked through.

Auntie Liu asked without thinking. Wang Cuilan waved her off.

“Oh, come on. She’s old. A little incontinence is normal. I changed the sheet, didn’t I?”

I heard about it from Auntie Zhang, who was playing chess downstairs. She sent me a voice message.

Lowering her voice, she said, “Xiaowan, something doesn’t feel right. Mrs. Zhang was always spotless when you looked after her. There wasn’t even a smell.”

At the time, I was simmering crucian carp soup for Professor Chen.

After listening to the message, I turned the heat down a little and replied,

“Auntie Zhang, Mrs. Zhang has Wang looking after her now. Let’s not get involved.”

Another week went by. Wang Cuilan sent a voice message to the group herself, speaking so loudly that the whole corridor could hear her.

“I have something to report to Sister Li. Mrs. Zhang choked a little while eating lunch. She coughed for quite a while.”

My heart leapt into my throat.

Li Mei replied at once: “Huh? Is she all right?”

Wang Cuilan laughed breezily. “Oh, that’s normal! Old people cough when they eat. Their throats are narrow. I patted her back and gave her a sip of water. She’s fine now. Don’t worry about it while you’re at work, Sister Li. It’s nothing serious.”

Li Mei immediately sent back a hugging emoji.

“Sister Wang is so steady. If it were someone else, they’d have panicked and called me.”

The group filled with more praise.

I stared at the voice message, my finger hovering over the screen for a long time.

For an elderly person with swallowing difficulties, choking once is a warning; twice is an alarm.

Three times—and food could enter the lungs, causing aspiration pneumonia. A careless mistake could cost her life.

I’d written all of that plainly in the care notes I’d handed over.

But Wang Cuilan hadn’t bothered to read a word.

Then one thing after another went wrong.

First, Mrs. Zhang developed a fever.

Wang Cuilan tucked her under two blankets, rummaged around for cold medicine, broke a pill in half and fed it to her, then casually messaged the group:

“She caught a little chill. It’s just a slight fever. Once it breaks, she’ll be fine.”

That day, Li Mei was out entertaining a client and didn’t bother replying.

After that, Mrs. Zhang stopped talking much. Wang Cuilan explained:

“She’s old. She sleeps a lot. That’s normal.”

She still posted her daily check-in photos, but Mrs. Zhang’s face looked paler with each one. Her eyes were half-open, the corner of her mouth drooped, and there was still porridge smeared on her chin.

Looking at the photo, my stomach clenched with a wave of nausea.

That wasn’t sleeping more.

She was slipping away. Her body was slowly rotting from the inside.

It wasn’t that Li Mei had never gone home.

One weekend, she came back early. The moment she stepped through the door, she almost failed to recognize her mother.