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Chapter 17.2 - Sakura (2)
Cong Rong frowned in confusion. “Didn’t you say you liked someone?”
Wen Shaoqing paused a moment, then smiled helplessly. “She probably doesn’t know I like her yet.”
Cong Rong’s eyes widened in surprise, staring at him, a little stunned. Someone like him could have a secret crush?
Noticing her shock, Wen Shaoqing asked, “What’s wrong?”
She quickly looked away, her gaze flickering. “Nothing.”
For a while, neither spoke. Then Wen Shaoqing quietly said, “As long as you realize I’m being ambiguous with you.”
His voice was low, and Cong Rong, still shocked by the idea of him secretly liking someone, didn’t catch it clearly. “What?” she asked.
Wen Shaoqing smirked, his eyes deep and dark. “Nothing.”
Cong Rong silently breathed a sigh of relief—no girlfriend was good; she didn’t want to be involved in anything immoral.
Just as Wen Shaoqing was about to speak, his phone rang. Seeing it was the hospital, he moved to the window to answer. After listening briefly, he began asking questions: “What symptoms? What medications have been used? Report all indicators...”
Unable to understand, Cong Rong started clearing the table and went to wash the dishes in the kitchen.
Hearing movement, Wen Shaoqing glanced over and saw the dog squatting by the kitchen door, unsure whether to come in or leave. They remained at an impasse. He smiled and turned back to the call.
“Let’s keep it like this for tonight. Keep an eye on things; I’ll come early tomorrow.” Before hanging up, he suddenly remembered, “Oh, book a brain CT for me tomorrow morning.”
Cong Rong finished washing the last bowl just as he returned, and he asked, “What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?”
“Breakfast” was a distant memory for Cong Rong. She wiped her hands. “I don’t eat breakfast.”
Wen Shaoqing looked at her. “Don’t eat at all?”
She nodded. “Yeah, not in the habit.”
He seemed concerned. “Never eat?”
She thought back. “When I was a kid, yes.”
“When did you stop?”
“After I started working.”
“Why?”
“Can’t get up early. What, Dr. Wen thinks I’m unhealthy?”
He considered and said, “You can eat breakfast at my place from now on.”
Cong Rong glared but said nothing.
Wen Shaoqing went on, “Breakfast isn’t complicated. Toast with spread in the microwave, fry an egg, peel and chop pumpkin, set it with rice in the soy milk maker to start when you wake up. Soft and sticky, done in ten minutes.”
She asked pragmatically, “Who washes the dishes? Who cleans the pan? Who cleans the soy milk maker? Ten minutes, really?”
He sighed helplessly. “You just have to eat.”
Cong Rong was intrigued. “How much a month?”
He didn’t get it. “What?”
She explained, “The breakfast cost, monthly.”
Wen Shaoqing was speechless. “Do I look like I’m running a breakfast shop?”
She bit her lip. “If it’s free, I wouldn’t dare come, wouldn’t feel right.”
He sighed. “You buy the ingredients, deliver them to my place every night. You pay for food, I do the cooking. If you don’t eat or I’m on night shift, no need to buy.”
She weighed it and agreed, “Okay.”
After scanning the fridge, he suggested, “Potato pancakes tomorrow morning? Consider it a trial? If you like it, I’ll keep making them.”
She nodded.
He closed the fridge. “It’s late. Time to sleep.”
She instinctively touched the back of her head. “I think it should be fine now. Maybe I’ll go home?”
Wen Shaoqing glanced lightly at her, ignoring the suggestion, and went out of the kitchen. “Master bedroom or guest room? Pick one.”
Cong Rong naturally chose the guest room. While inspecting it, Wen Shaoqing knocked and entered carrying a pillow. “Here, a new pillow. You often have trouble sleeping, with restless dreams, right?”
She took the pillow. “How do you know?”
He paused. “I checked your pulse when I moved you just now.”
“Checked my pulse?” She frowned. “You’re a Western doctor—why check pulses?!”
He hesitated, seeming troubled. “It’s a habit, hard to change.”
Cong Rong recalled Zhong Zhen saying Wen Shaoqing’s family had a tradition of Chinese medicine. Plus those handwritten medical books tonight were half Chinese medicine. She asked, “Did you really study Chinese medicine since childhood?”
“Zhong Zhen told you?”
He smiled mysteriously, looking deeply at her. “Sounds like you two really talk about me a lot.”
Caught off guard, she quickly pushed him out. “I’m tired. Go out. I want to sleep.”
Maybe because of the new bed, she slept restlessly, half-awake sensing someone enter. A hand gently touched the back of her head, quietly watching her before withdrawing.
Groggily, she recognized Wen Shaoqing and opened her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
The room was dimly lit by a wall lamp, his voice soft and unclear. “Nothing. I just wasn’t at ease, came to check. Sleep.”
She mumbled, “Mm...”
