Chapter 1 — Swapped at Birth

The third minute after my daughter entered this world, translucent subtitles materialized in the shimmering reflection of the surgical lamp.

[Do not let her husband hold the baby alone.]

[Her husband’s childhood sweetheart, Xu Qingyi, is delivering a baby in the delivery suite upstairs. She just gave birth to a stillborn.]

[Her husband pities her psychological collapse post-partum and fears she might do something drastic.]

[Therefore, he plans to swap your baby for Xu Qingyi's, then pretend that the deceased infant is actually your daughter.]

[All medical records will state that your daughter suddenly suffered from neonatal asphyxia and failed resuscitation.]

[You will try to prove this deceased infant is not your flesh and blood, only to be framed as mentally unstable. Ultimately, unable to bear the shattering grief, you will perish in despair.]

A bone-deep chill froze my veins. Right beside me, Lu Shiqian squeezed my hand, the rims of his eyes red with counterfeit emotion. The very next second, I turned my head just in time to catch the flicker of a text message illuminating his phone screen.

"Qingyi, stay strong. I will find a way to handle the baby's situation."

In that exact fraction of a second, I knew the subtitles were uttering an absolute, terrifying truth. Yet, what Shiqian did not know was that the women in my maternal lineage possess a rare, congenital somatic signature—an exquisite, faint botanical fragrance. My true daughter could never, under any conceivable circumstance, be permanently displaced or successfully replaced.

A nurse gently placed the infant onto my chest. I leaned in close, inhaling behind her tiny ear. A faint, lingering whisper of sweet orchard blossoms brushed my senses. It was the ancestral scent unique to the women of the Wen family. Thankfully, my baby possessed it.

Shiqian reached out his hands, offering a tender smile. "Let me hold her for a moment."

I instinctively shifted away, dodging his touch. His hands froze awkwardly in mid-air.

"Tongyin?"

Ignoring him entirely, I kept my gaze locked firmly on the nurse. "All mandatory neonatal screenings must be conducted inside this exact room. Bring whatever equipment is necessary right here. Whatever cannot be brought in must be temporarily postponed."

The nurse blinked in astonishment. "Mrs. Lu, standard newborn screening procedures must be performed within the designated neonatal observation zone."

"I have already stated: she does not leave my sight."

Shiqian furrowed his brow, his tone laced with gentle reproach. "You have just undergone major surgery, do not strain yourself so much. This is the finest obstetrics and pediatrics hospital in the city, and I happen to be an investor here. Nothing untoward will happen."

The subtitles drifted slowly across my vision. [This is the exact phrase he will use to make you lower your guard.] [Do not believe him.]

I softly patted my daughter’s back. "I am not refusing medical care. I am simply refusing to let anyone take her away."

Shortly after, the head of neonatology, Le Manqing, stepped into the suite. Wearing gold-rimmed spectacles, her voice carried a practiced, professional calm. "Mrs. Lu, the baby has just been born. Blood oxygen, auditory, and metabolic evaluations must be completed as promptly as possible. We have expedited priority channels; it will take ten minutes at most."

"Then open those expedited channels right before my eyes."

Manqing cast a sideways glance toward Shiqian. Shiqian lowered his voice, stepping closer. "Tongyin, stop making things difficult for the medical staff."

I raised my eyes to meet his. "Who, precisely, is making things difficult for whom?"

My mother, Wen Zhaoxing, pushed the door open and entered. I cradled my daughter toward her. "Mom, she has the scent."

Mother leaned down, inhaling softly, and the corners of her eyes instantly turned crimson. "She does. Ever so faint, but it is there."

Using a sterile gauze pad, I gently wiped behind my daughter's ear and across her tiny palm, before sealing the swab inside an airtight specimen pouch. Once the zipper was locked, I recorded a clear video on my phone, meticulously capturing the timestamp, our bed number, and the infant's matching security bracelet.

Shiqian watched my actions with a growing frown. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Preserving samples."

"What kind of samples?"

"Proof that my daughter once rested securely in my arms," I replied evenly.

His expression finally darkened by a fraction. The hospital strictly forbade pets within the clinical wards, so Mother personally carried our family’s small dog down to the underground parking structure. Raised by Mother amidst rare aromatic herbs since puppyhood, the terrier possessed an olfactory discrimination far superior to any human nose. Mother placed the sealed pouch into a thermal container and handed it to our driver to take down.

Ten minutes later, the driver sent a video back. The little dog pressed its snout against the fabric of the pouch, its tail suddenly shooting straight up as its nose twitched, followed by a soft, affirmative whine. It had memorized the signature scent. Only then did the heavy stone crushing my chest lift slightly.

Shiqian stood beside the hospital bed, his voice sharp with interrogation. "Tongyin, have you been reading some unhinged nonsense online?"

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Such as the text message you sent to Xu Qingyi?"

His pupils constricted instantly. "You snooped through my phone?"

"While I was laboring in the delivery room, you were busy messaging another woman. Shiqian, exactly who is the one who should feel guilty here?"

He fell silent for a beat before slipping back into his mask of aggrieved tenderness. "Qingyi’s condition is fragile, I was merely offering her comfort. She is entirely alone upstairs, and her child is fighting for survival."

The subtitles scrolled by. [Fighting for survival? Her child died hours ago.] [Every word he utters now is merely clearing the path for what comes next.]

I closed my eyes, tightening my grip around my daughter's tiny hand. "Shiqian, from this moment onward, you are forbidden from approaching her alone."

That entire night, neither Mother nor I closed our eyes. The baby rested in a crib wheeled directly against my bedside. The caster wheels were firmly wedged in place by chairs pushed by Mother. Outside our door stood our family driver keeping watch, while at the far end of the corridor, men arranged by Shiqian lingered in the shadows. He thought I was oblivious to their presence.

At one o’clock in the morning, a nurse pushed a trolley into the room. "Mrs. Lu, it is time to measure the baby's jaundice index."

Mother stood up immediately. "Where is the equipment?"

The nurse smiled professionally. "We need to bring the infant to the observation nursery. The ambient lighting and temperature regulations are strictly standardized there."

I extended an arm, blocking access to the crib. "Bring the transcutaneous bilirubin meter in here."

"That violates our standard protocol."

"Then alter the protocol."

The nurse's smile stiffened. Ten minutes later, Manqing arrived in person, carrying the diagnostic device. Her tone was laced with thinly veiled restraint. "Mrs. Lu, obstructing standard procedures severely compromises our operational efficiency."

"My child is not a metric for your operational efficiency."

She offered no further argument. After taking the measurements, she confirmed all indices were normal.

At half-past two in the morning, Shiqian entered carrying a feeding bottle. "I asked the nutritional department to prepare a hydrolyzed formula. You just gave birth, your strength hasn’t recovered, let the baby have some nourishment first."

I asked coldly, "Whose prescription authorized this?"

His voice dropped an octave. "Tongyin, must you persist in speaking to me in this tone?"

Ignoring him entirely, I fixed my gaze on the bottle. There was no tamper-evident seal. The formula label had been hastily scribbled by hand.

A single line of text flashed across my vision. [Do not let her touch it. It contains a mild sedative. The dosage is calibrated for a newborn—just enough to silence her cries completely.]

My heart plummeted into an abyss. "Take it out of here."

Shiqian’s expression turned utterly glacial. "You suspect me of poisoning my own child's milk?"

"Right now, I suspect everyone."

He set the bottle down on the bedside table, adopting the posture of a man enduring an irrational lunatic. "Wen Tongyin, I understand your postpartum hormones are fluctuating. But you cannot treat everyone around you like a sworn enemy."

Mother spoke up, her voice steady. "If my granddaughter does not want it, she will not have it."

Shiqian turned his gaze toward her. "Mother, are you seriously encouraging this madness?"

"My daughter just stepped off the operating table," Mother replied coolly. "Whatever she says goes."

He was left entirely speechless.

Past three in the morning, another physician entered holding a small paper cup. "Mrs. Lu, your psychological state is dangerously overstimulated, which will severely impede your physical recovery. Mr. Lu requested a mild sedative to help you rest. The dosage is completely safe and will not interfere with breastfeeding."

I stared down at the small white pill. "Open the electronic prescription system and display the medication order for me."

The doctor froze. "This is..."

"The pharmacological name, batch number, prescribing physician, and authorized clinical indications—bring them all up on the screen."

He stammered, "This was a special recuperative regimen specifically requested by Mr. Lu."

I pushed the cup away. "I am not taking it."

Shiqian finally snapped, his patience evaporating entirely. "You refuse to sleep, you refuse medication, and you refuse to let the doctors touch the child! Do you intend to torture yourself to death?"

I shot the question right back at him. "If I fall into a drug-induced sleep, where exactly do you plan to take my child?"

A flicker of profound guilt crossed his features before transforming into a mask of wounded betrayal. "In your eyes, am I truly such a despicable creature?"

I nodded slowly. "You are far more despicable than I ever imagined."

He slammed the door behind him as he stormed out. Startled by the deafening crash, our daughter wrinkled her tiny face and let out a sharp cry. Although the surgical incision across my abdomen pulled with agonizing pain, I scooped her into my arms without hesitation. The faint, sweet botanical fragrance brushed close against the bridge of my nose, grounding my frantic spirit.

Mother sat beside the bed, gently stroking my hair. "Tongyin, hold on until the dawn breaks."

I nodded, though the subtitles warned me mercilessly. [They will not wait until dawn.]

At forty-seven minutes past four in the morning, the bedside vital monitor abruptly emitted a piercing, shrill alarm. A sudden, scorching rush of warmth flooded downward. The nurse pulled back the blankets, and the color drained entirely from her face.

"Severe postpartum hemorrhage!"

Manqing and the obstetrician rushed into the room almost simultaneously. Hands pressed violently onto my abdomen, blood pressure cuffs tightened, and frantic shouts echoed for emergency blood reserves. Darkness clawed at the edges of my vision as pain tore through my body, yet my fingers remained locked around the fabric of my baby's blanket.

"Do not... take my child away."

The obstetrician sweat profusely as she pleaded, "Mrs. Lu, you are experiencing secondary hemorrhaging; we must intervene immediately! If we delay any longer, you will go into hypovolemic shock!"

I pressed my daughter into Mother’s arms. "Mom, do not let go of her."

Mother clutched the baby tightly to her chest. "I am right here."

They wheeled me toward the emergency surgical suite. A nurse snatched my phone away, citing sterile area protocols. Just before the heavy doors slammed shut, I caught a glimpse of Shiqian standing rigidly at the far end of the corridor. He did not run forward. He merely glanced down at his wristwatch. That single, calculated glance froze the blood in my veins.

As the anesthetic flooded into my veins, I fought tooth and nail to cling to consciousness, but my body refused to obey my will. The final sounds I heard before slipping into blackness were the frantic voices of nurses echoing down the hall.

"Where is Mrs. Lu’s family? The blood bank requisition form requires an immediate signature from an immediate relative!"

When consciousness finally dragged me back, the sky outside was washed in a sickly, gray dawn. Shiqian sat beside my bed, his eyes ringed with a terrifying shade of red. He grasped my hand, his voice cracked and hollowed out.

"Tongyin, I am so sorry."

My very first instinct was to search for my child. The bassinet beside me was entirely empty. My throat seized, choking off my voice. "Where is my daughter?"

He closed his eyes. "She suffered a sudden cardiopulmonary collapse. The medical team performed resuscitation for forty full minutes..."

A roaring hum flooded my ears. Behind him, a nurse pushed forward a tiny, transparent medical container. Inside lay an infant wrapped tightly in white linen. Her skin was pale and waxy. Devoid of all warmth.

Shiqian whispered, "She didn't make it."

I struggled to force my body upward, the stitches across my abdomen feeling as though they were tearing wide open. Mother stood nearby, her face drained of all color, her arms hanging limply by her sides. Her lips trembled uncontrollably.

"I only stepped away for seven minutes. They told me you were bleeding to death and required immediate consent signatures. I couldn't carry the baby to the blood bank window, and the nurse promised she would watch her..."

She could not finish the sentence. My trembling hand reached out to touch the skin behind the infant's ear. There was only the cold, stagnant odor of a body long deceased. There was no floral scent.

Slowly, agonizingly, I raised my head.

"This is not my daughter."

Shiqian pulled me into his arms, his voice breaking. "Tongyin, I know this is too much for you to accept—"

I shoved him away with every ounce of remaining strength.

"I said: this is not my daughter."