Chapter 189 Don’t Look Like That—I’m Not Going to Harm You

In the café, Song Jingmo sat by the window. The black coffee in front of him had already gone cold.

The glass door was pushed open, and Qu Weiwei walked in, dressed in LV’s latest seasonal haute couture.

A sharply tailored off-white suit, paired with a silk blouse underneath. On her feet were matching high heels, and in her hand was a crocodile leather handbag worth six figures.

The waiter immediately stepped forward. “Miss Qu, the usual?”

“Mhm. Americano, double shot.”

Qu Weiwei sat down across from Song Jingmo, crossing her legs elegantly.

She sized him up for a moment and smirked. “Well, this is a surprise. Did the sun rise in the west? Our great Dr. Song actually took the initiative to ask me out?”

Song Jingmo ignored the teasing and simply picked up his now-cold coffee, taking a sip.

Resting her elbow on the table, Qu Weiwei said, “So, have you finally figured it out? Willing to become the director of Kangren Hospital now?”

Over the past year, she had tried every possible way to persuade him to take over as the director of Kangren Hospital—even if only in name.

But he had remained completely unmoved, rejecting her every time with the same reason: he didn’t like management, only surgery.

Even his current position as head of orthopedics had taken her half a year of persuasion—and in the end, she had to offer him 5% of Kangren’s shares before he reluctantly agreed.

“I remember someone once said,” Qu Weiwei continued, lightly tapping her fingers on the table, “these hands of mine were born to hold a scalpel, not to sign documents.”

“So what changed? You even called me yourself.”

“I need money. A lot of money.”

Qu Weiwei raised an eyebrow. “How much?”

“Ten billion.”

“Pfft—”

She nearly spat out her coffee.

Quickly grabbing a napkin to cover her mouth, she coughed several times before recovering. “How much?”

“Ten billion.”

Qu Weiwei set her coffee cup down.

It wasn’t that she lacked experience—her family had built its fortune starting in the medical industry.

Now they were involved in real estate, finance, and technology. Ten billion wasn’t an astronomical number for the Qu family.

But hearing Song Jingmo ask for ten billion was surreal in itself.

“Reason.”

Song Jingmo briefly explained Lu Er’s situation, and Qu Weiwei listened quietly.

“I see,” she said, rubbing her temples. “I’ve been busy acquiring Xinghui Medical lately, haven’t had time for anything else.”

“Honestly, you don’t need to rush this much. Aunt already called my dad. You know what he’s like—a total sister doter.”

“If my aunt asks for money, forget ten billion—even two billion, he’d give it.”

“And we’re all family. You wouldn’t even need to pay it back. Just treat it as a wedding gift from the family?”

It sounded generous. And graceful.

But Song Jingmo shook his head.

“No. We have to repay this money.”

“Why?” Qu Weiwei frowned. “My dad definitely wouldn’t ask you to.”

“Because Lu Er would care.”

His voice was soft. “He looks gentle and easygoing, but deep down he’s very proud.”

“If he ends up owing such a huge favor—and it’s money given because of my mother… he’ll never truly feel at ease for the rest of his life.”

“I don’t want him to be unhappy.”

Qu Weiwei stared at him for a long time—so long that even the waiter couldn’t help glancing over a few times.

Then suddenly, she laughed.

The Song Jingmo she remembered was calm, rational—even a bit cold.

Growing up, he never cared much about anything, except medicine.

She had always thought there was nothing in this world that could truly move him.

But now, seeing him lower his principles for someone, ask for help, and think everything through so carefully…

“Song Jingmo, oh Song Jingmo,” she shook her head. “I always thought you’d marry the operating table in this lifetime. Who knew—once you fall, you fall this hard.”

She set down her cup and sighed. “Ten billion isn’t a small number. Even though Kangren is one of the top private hospitals, its annual revenue is only a few hundred million, and net profit is even less.”

She quickly calculated in her head. “Even at Kangren’s current valuation, your 5% stake is only worth tens of millions.”

“That’s nowhere near ten billion. And how long do you plan to take to repay it? Ten years? Twenty? Thirty?”

Song Jingmo’s tone didn’t waver. “Something is better than nothing. Lu Er will definitely try to earn money to repay it too.”

“I don’t want him to carry all the pressure alone. Two people are faster than one.”

“Alright,” Qu Weiwei said. “I’ll give you another 30% of Kangren’s shares. I’m not making money off you—but I have one condition.”

Song Jingmo’s gaze sharpened. “What condition?”

“You become the director of Kangren—not just in name. You have to truly take over management and grow the hospital.”

Putting down her phone, she returned to her sharp businesswoman demeanor. “I know you don’t like this, but if you want to repay that debt, relying on surgical income alone—you won’t finish even in your next life.”

After a pause, she added, “I can set your annual salary as director at five million. With dividends from shares, plus your surgery and research income, earning around ten million a year isn’t a problem.”

At least that way, there would be some hope of paying it off.

Qu Weiwei looked at him seriously. “I’m not doing charity. I’m investing—in you. I believe in your potential.”

Song Jingmo lowered his head, looking at the coffee in front of him. The dark liquid reflected the warm yellow ceiling lights—and his calm profile.

Becoming director. Managing a hospital.

Administrative meetings. Personnel arrangements. Financial reports…

All the things he used to avoid had now become choices he had to face.

“Alright.” He looked up, voice steady. “I agree.”

Qu Weiwei suddenly changed tone, her expression turning shrewd. “Also, this loan will be calculated at the highest interest rate, with a five-year repayment term.”

“Five years? That’s impossible—”

“Whether it’s possible or not isn’t up to you,” she cut him off.

“I know what you’re thinking—take it slow, repay over ten or twenty years.”

“But the longer the debt drags on, the more the interest piles up. You’ll only find it harder and harder to recover.”

Song Jingmo looked at her and suddenly understood. “You already have a plan, don’t you?”

Qu Weiwei smiled. “With the director’s salary and dividends, you’ll make about ten million a year. That’s nothing compared to ten billion.”

“But if you can increase Kangren’s market value, your shares will become valuable. Then whether you sell shares or use them for financing, it’ll be much easier.”

She paused. “As for Lu Er, even though he’s been blacklisted, it’s not like he has no way out.”

“With his connections and vision, there are plenty of opportunities to make money. The key is that you need to broaden your thinking—you can’t just focus on fixed salaries.”

“Alright. I’ll follow your plan.”

Qu Weiwei reached out and patted his shoulder. “Don’t look like that—I’m not going to harm you. If you really manage to take Kangren public, what’s ten billion?”

“When the time comes, I might even have to thank you.”