After Dating the President O, I Turned Into a Puppy-Like Lover - Chapter 20

After that, Jiang He didn’t bother with Zhou Yi anymore. She made up an excuse to leave first and coldly rejected her suggestion to go to the cafeteria together.

Afterward, she quietly asked around about Dan Sirou’s condition. It wasn’t as bad as she had imagined, she hadn’t actually fainted, just briefly lost consciousness. She was currently at the campus clinic undergoing some routine checks.

Jiang He bought herself two steamed buns and a cup of soy milk, eating as she walked. Thinking that Dan Sirou probably hadn’t had breakfast, she also packed a serving of hot shrimp congee. Several kinds of seafood and a sprinkling of chopped scallions floated in the milky-white rice porridge, making it look nutritious and appetizing rather than plain.

When she arrived at the clinic, she realized she had been here for quite a while just yesterday. Compared to then, the biggest difference today was how crowded it suddenly felt. Yesterday, you’d see only three or five people come by in an hour. Today, in just the short time she’d been inside, three or four people had already gone in and out and all through the same door.

Jiang He asked the doctor about Dan Sirou’s condition. The campus physician told her she was on an IV drip and pointed her in the right direction.

Following the gesture, Jiang He looked over and, sure enough, it was the very room those people had just come out of.

She had already decided: if there were too many people inside, she wouldn’t go in. She would ask the doctor to pass the breakfast along for her. But if there weren’t many people, she’d go in and check on her herself.

She glanced toward the door. Her luck wasn’t bad, after those few people left, the partitioned room was more or less empty.

Jiang He steadied herself, tightened her grip on the bag, took a deep breath to prepare mentally, and only then stepped forward.

Inside, Dan Sirou was half-reclined on the bed. A needle was inserted into the back of her fair right hand, connected to the IV bottle beside her. With her other hand, she pressed at her brow, then turned slightly to the left to reach for the water cup on the bedside table.

Jiang He watched her without blinking.

Jet-black hair cascaded down one side of her chest, straight and silky, tracing a gently curved line along that subtle hollow. Her complexion was naturally snow-white; illness had drained the color from her face, yet her features remained delicate. Lacking some vitality, they instead appeared even softer.

At that moment, she looked like a flower on the verge of wilting—instinctively stirring one’s desire to protect.

Jiang He’s heartstrings trembled. She wanted so badly to hold Dan Sirou, to let her lean against her, to feel her warmth, to let that faint floral scent cling to her own body.

But Jiang He also knew all too well that this was impossible.

The reality was that Dan Sirou disliked her.

When they ran into each other by chance, Dan Sirou would be smiling warmly at others only for her expression to change instantly the moment she noticed Jiang He. Whenever she spoke to Jiang He, her tone was always polite and perfunctory, nothing like the gentle warmth she showed everyone else, joking easily with them.

Just then, Dan Sirou turned back and happened to see Jiang He enter.

Jiang He wasn’t surprised by the change in her expression at all.

“Why are you here?” Dan Sirou asked, her tone as cool and distant as ever.

“I was worried you hadn’t eaten anything,” Jiang He said honestly, lifting the bag slightly. “So, I packed you some congee.”

“I’m not hungry. You can eat it yourself,” Dan Sirou replied.

“I’ve already eaten,” Jiang He said. “This is for you.”

Dan Sirou had no way out. Knowing she couldn’t really refuse, she said flatly, “See the stuff on that table over there? Make a bit of space. If it fits, put it there.”

“Better yet, you should just eat it yourself,” she added.

Jiang He followed her gaze. She hadn’t noticed on her way in, but now that she looked closely, there really was a lot on the table—mostly unopened bags, some in plain plastic, others in elegant packaging, all piled together. To add anything else, you’d have to stack it up like building blocks.

The weight of the seafood congee in Jiang He’s hands suddenly felt heavier.

As if both she and her intentions were utterly insignificant, just one more visitor among many.

Aside from the table, Jiang He noticed a chair within her field of vision. She moved it over, sat down beside the bed, and began opening the bag on her own, taking out the cylindrical food container inside.

“You should still eat a little,” Jiang He said gently, her gaze steady.

“I already said I don’t have an appetite. I’m not hungry,” Dan Sirou emphasized impatiently.

“When you’re sick, of course you won’t have much of an appetite,” Jiang He said as she opened the lid. “But that doesn’t mean this is the right way to deal with it. It’s still hot just have some, warm your stomach.”

Dan Sirou simply turned her head away, refusing to look at her.

“I forgot you’re on an IV—it’s not very convenient,” Jiang He said, unfazed by her turned profile. “Do you want me to feed you?”

As she spoke, she scooped up a spoonful. It was still quite hot, so she blew on it gently from a short distance before bringing it to Dan Sirou’s lips.

The warm porridge carried lingering heat, lending a touch of warmth to her cool skin.

Out of the corner of her eye, Dan Sirou saw the spoonful of porridge—translucent grains of rice, with a single crystal-clear shrimp nestled among them.

When she didn’t respond, the hand holding the spoon remained completely still, hovering by her lips.

In the end, Dan Sirou helplessly lifted her eyelids and relented. “Give it to me. I’ll eat it myself.” Thick-skinned, she thought.

Jiang He’s composed, striking face instantly lit up with joy. It was barely more than a slight curve of her brows and the faint movement of her lips, but for someone who usually wore an icy, unsmiling expression, it was already an unmistakable happiness.

She quickly and obediently offered the container with both hands.

Sure enough, she had to persist. Otherwise, once that bowl of congee landed on the table, it would be lumped together with everything else—eventually disappearing into who knew whose stomach.

Dan Sirou’s pale fingers held the plastic spoon as she scooped up a mouthful and slowly brought it to her lips. Her soft, pink lips chewed the thin porridge unhurriedly.

At first, after the first two or three mouthfuls went down, her stomach churned violently. A deep sense of aversion to food made her brows knit together. But gradually, the warmth soothed the discomfort, and she no longer felt so resistant to eating.

Watching the level in the cup drop slightly below one of the measurement lines, Dan Sirou asked casually, “You’ve delivered your congee, and I’ve already eaten it. How much longer are you planning to stay here?”

“I’m afraid that if I leave, you’ll stop eating,” Jiang He said honestly, blinking.

Something about those words seemed to strike a nerve. Dan Sirou set the congee aside and finally looked Jiang He in the eyes. “Why are you suddenly being so attentive to me?”

There were many reasons. Jiang He casually picked the one that best distanced herself from her true feelings and said,

“Yesterday, I shouldn’t have taken off your clothes. I knew your cold hadn’t fully recovered, yet I still—”

Before she could finish, Dan Sirou cut in impatiently, emphasizing, “That was because I didn’t pay attention myself last night. It had nothing to do with you.”

She didn’t like it when Jiang He revisited details after the fact, how the other person replayed things in her head, reanalyzed them, indulged herself, or imagined whatever she liked was fine. Just don’t pick them apart and say them out loud in front of her.

“If you came specially because you feel sorry for me,” Dan Sirou continued, “then I think that’s completely unnecessary.”

“I said it before, you don’t need to feel any guilt toward me. My answer is still the same now.”

“Because once the agreement ends, we’re even?” Jiang He asked dully.

At the end of the day, Dan Sirou simply didn’t want to have even the slightest entanglement with her afterward, so naturally she wanted to cut off any chance of owing or being owed a favor.

Dan Sirou’s expression didn’t waver in the slightest. Her tone was resolute. “If that’s how you understand it, then even better.”

Jiang He fell silent.

She lowered her head, her gaze deep and obscure. In that brief moment, a tangle of emotions surged rapidly through her mind.

After a pause, she finally said, “There’s still one time left in our agreement, right?”

“Mm.” Dan Sirou blinked lightly and nodded, unsure why Jiang He was bringing this up.

“Ever since the time I asked you to wait for me on Fengqiao Road and didn’t show up, you seem to have had a lot of issues with me,” Jiang He went on. “But because I promised you, you didn’t hold it against me. Is that right?”

Dan Sirou glanced at her. “What are you trying to say?”

“Our agreement,” Jiang He said calmly, her face unreadable. “It’s over.”

A trace of confusion flickered in Dan Sirou’s clear eyes. She reminded her, “Your condition hasn’t fully recovered yet.”

“It’s more or less fine,” Jiang He replied. “It should start with this time, anyway. I know my own body. In any case, thank you.”

“I shouldn’t have lied to you last time to begin with. Just pretend I did go that day and that we went through it once. That makes it exactly five times.”

“How am I supposed to pretend something that never happened did happen?” Dan Sirou couldn’t accept Jiang He’s suggestion.

She had already taken the money. It was all written clearly in black and white, how could it just change on a whim? Maybe, in the short term, she would feel a slight sense of relief, as if a burden had been lifted. But when the nights grew quiet, this matter would inevitably resurface in her mind, reminding her that she still owed Jiang He something.

“It’s me who doesn’t need you anymore. Do you understand?”

Jiang He looked at the girl in front of her with absolute seriousness. This was one of the rare moments she spoke to Dan Sirou with such an attitude, such a tone.

When she was serious, she appeared utterly cold and detached.

Sometimes she was even glad that she didn’t talk much, it helped conceal the guilt of lying in moments like this.

Dan Sirou was taken aback. In her memory, Jiang He never seemed like this when she marked her, on the contrary, she always looked as if she wanted more. But since Jiang He had stated it so decisively, questioning her now would only make Dan Sirou seem narcissistic, as if she believed her pheromones should naturally be adored by everyone.

Absentmindedly, Dan Sirou nodded. “I understand.”

“Mm,” Jiang He said. “Then I’ll be going.”

For once, in a rare moment alone with Dan Sirou, she turned away with a certain decisiveness.

“Okay,” Dan Sirou responded softly, her lashes lowered.

When Jiang He reached the doorway, she turned back and cast one last lingering look.

Even she didn’t know what had possessed her just now—to give up that final, precious chance.

She liked Dan Sirou. Ever since signing the agreement, that once-a-month marking had become the thing she looked forward to most. No one knew her secret; only during those moments did she fully release the desires she had buried deep inside herself.

But she also knew that Dan Sirou disliked her.

The look in her eyes whenever they met, the emotionless way she cooperated with her requests.

Jiang He had a bit of pride, after all. A marking done so unwillingly was nothing more than satisfying a physiological need, and she didn’t want to continue like that. Besides, she truly hadn’t expected the Fengqiao Road no-show to trigger such a chain reaction, leaving Dan Sirou’s cold still unresolved. So, she might as well take this opportunity.

That money had originally been meant as help, no repayment expected—just to get Dan Sirou through a difficult time. It was only because of her own desire that it had turned into such an intimate entanglement.

In the end, it was her pride that wouldn’t allow this to go on.

Being even was fine. After all, there was still a long road ahead.

One day, she would make Dan Sirou willing—willing from the heart.

The fisherman was getting ready to cast the net.

Little Jiang went home to flip through The Thirty-Six Stratagems of Love, slowly preparing for the long campaign to win her wife.