Chapter 18.2 - Cold Jokes by Lawyer Cong (2)
“Oh, I remember her. I did her scan,” Dr. Yao said. “Her name is quite unique, and she’s very pretty—has a great presence too.”
Wen Shaoqing suddenly said, “Thank you.”
Dr. Yao was flipping through a stack of results to find Cong Rong’s. When he finally handed it to Wen Shaoqing and watched him walk away, he suddenly realized something. Scratching his head, he muttered, “I was complimenting the girl, not you. What are you thanking me for?”
After work, Zhong Zhen came into the office carrying a stack of patient files for Wen Shaoqing to sign. Most people had already left, and it was getting dark early in winter. The office lights were off. As soon as he entered, he saw Wen Shaoqing leaning against the desk a few steps away, staring intently at a scan lit up on the lightbox.
He waited a while, but Wen Shaoqing didn’t move, not even blinking.
Zhong Zhen approached cautiously and asked, “Boss, what are you looking at?”
Wen Shaoqing snapped out of his trance, frowned slightly, and replied, “A brain CT scan.”
Zhong Zhen squinted at the image, trying to look serious. “Which patient’s?”
Wen Shaoqing’s gaze remained fixed on the scan as he answered calmly, “Your cousin’s.”
Zhong Zhen immediately jumped. “My cousin?! What’s wrong with her? Is there something wrong with her brain?”
“Medically speaking, no,” Wen Shaoqing sighed. “But I want to see what’s going on in her head. Why is it that I’ve made it so obvious, and she still doesn’t get it?”
“Uh…” Zhong Zhen was speechless but decided to play along. “So… what do you see?”
Wen Shaoqing shifted positions, arms crossed, studying the scan for a few more seconds before replying, “She has a beautifully shaped skull. Excellent bone structure.”
“…” Zhong Zhen stared at him, still confused. “Why did my cousin even get a CT scan?”
Wen Shaoqing walked over, took the film down, put it back in its folder, and turned off the lightbox. “She hit the back of her head, came in for a check-up.”
Zhong Zhen asked nervously, “She got hurt? How? And why do you know this when I don’t?”
Wen Shaoqing gave him a displeased glance. “Why shouldn’t I know something you don’t?”
Zhong Zhen puffed up. “I’m the person who knows my cousin best in the whole world!”
Wen Shaoqing chuckled and raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
There was something strange about his tone, but Zhong Zhen couldn’t quite figure out what it was. He was about to ask more when Wen Shaoqing cut him off with a few simple words:
“Have you finished your thesis?”
Zhong Zhen instantly deflated. Just hearing the word made his head hurt. “Not yet…”
“Do you know what day it is?”
“…Yes.”
“And you still have time to stand here chatting with me?”
“I’m going! Right now!”
Zhong Zhen bolted like a flash.
Later that evening, Cong Rong got back to her apartment complex and knocked on Wen Shaoqing’s door. No answer. She glanced at the time—he was probably out walking Rangyirang—so she went home.
While showering, she heard a knock at the door. Assuming it was Wen Shaoqing, she quickly finished up, dried her hair a bit, and went across the hall to knock.
Wen Shaoqing opened the door quickly and let her in. He handed her the scan folder. “Your results came back. Everything looks fine, nothing to worry about.”
Cong Rong pulled out the films and glanced at them. After a while, she stuffed them back in. “I can’t understand any of this.”
Wen Shaoqing took a sip of water and teased, “If you could, I’d be out of a job.”
She thought about it and agreed. Just as she was about to get up to leave, Wen Shaoqing stepped over, bent down slightly, and gently held the back of her head. “Does it still hurt?”
With him so close, Cong Rong was enveloped in his cool, clean scent. Her body went stiff. Suddenly, the heating in the room felt too warm—so warm it made her restless. She answered absentmindedly, “As long as no one touches it, it doesn’t hurt.”
Wen Shaoqing looked down at her. He must’ve just taken a shower—his hair was slightly damp, and with all her makeup removed, her skin looked clear and glowing, with a suspicious flush on her cheeks. He was right in front of her, but she didn’t dare look up. Her gaze stayed fixed on the buttons of his shirt.
She could feel his eyes on her face, and the heat inside her grew. She kept telling herself: He’s a doctor. This is a routine exam. Physical contact between men and women in a clinical context is normal. Don’t overthink it.
As she was in the middle of self-hypnosis, Wen Shaoqing suddenly reached out and twirled a lock of her hair around his long fingers. The gesture was gentle… and ambiguous. He curved his lips into a small smile and murmured, as if to himself,
“Your hair’s grown longer. Don’t cut it—just leave it like this.”
Cong Rong was even more flustered now, and that strange inner heat rose once more.
