After Dating the President O, I Turned Into a Puppy-Like Lover - Chapter 34

After leaving Dan Sirou’s home, Jiang He headed straight back.

The entire district was under lockdown. Not a single car moved on the road. Anyone leaving had to undergo inspection before being allowed outside.

She submitted to the pheromone test. The results showed her fluctuations were moderate—just at the threshold. A fraction higher, and she would have been forcibly sent to the hospital.

By the time she reached home, it was already past six.

The vast villa glowed with light, the living room and kitchen brightly illuminated. But the bedroom wing remained dim, shadows cutting across the walls.

Though the Jiang family was wealthy, its members were few.

Jiang Bingtai had three children. Jiang He’s mother was an Alpha; the other two were Omegas. Her mother, the eldest, had only Jiang He. The second sister bore three children—two boys and a girl. She should have brought liveliness to the household, but years ago she defied her father’s wishes and married abroad. Relations had soured, only warming again in recent years.

The youngest was Jiang Yucheng, Jiang He’s aunt, though Jiang He had always called her “little aunt.” Only thirteen years older, she was just past thirty. A non-marriage idealist, she spent most of her time touring with performances, rarely home more than eight times a year.

Thus, in the sprawling villa, only Jiang He and her grandfather lived permanently.

“Xiao He, you’re back!” The clatter in the kitchen ceased. Footsteps carried into the living room, and Aunt Lin emerged with a dish in hand.

“Mm.” Jiang He smiled faintly, heading to wash her hands before dinner.

Aunt Lin was the housekeeper, responsible for cleaning and cooking. She had worked for the family longer than Jiang He had been alive. Diligent and honest, she had even studied famous cuisines, her dishes fragrant and delicious.

By the time Jiang He returned, the table was set.

“Why so late today? You didn’t call, so I came anyway.” Normally, if Jiang He wasn’t coming home, she would notify Aunt Lin. Today there had been no call, leaving her unsure whether to cook.

“Something came up. I was delayed.” Jiang He scooped a large bowl of rice—she was starving.

“You’re alright?” Aunt Lin asked, concerned.

“It’s fine now.” Jiang He smiled gently.

She respected the older woman deeply, though she spoke little, leaving their conversations brief. Aunt Lin had once thought her aloof, but grew used to it.

No one in the Jiang family treated Aunt Lin as an outsider, but she kept her place, never eating at the table, always working quietly.

After finishing, she removed her apron, preparing to leave.

But as she untied it, she noticed something—a streak of red. Shocked, she stepped closer, checking again before speaking. “Xiao He, you’re bleeding badly.”

“What?” Jiang He was oblivious, focused only on her meal.

At her words, Jiang He felt the sticky dampness at her nape. She had thought it sweat, planning to shower after eating. Now she set down her chopsticks and reached back.

Her fingers came away stained with blood.

The sight made her dizzy, the room spinning.

“What happened!” Aunt Lin panicked. “Is your illness acting up again?”

Though a Beta, unable to smell pheromones, she knew this blood came from an Alpha’s gland. She had heard of Jiang He’s condition, even tried to find remedies, though in vain.

“I.” Jiang He’s dizziness worsened. Words failed.

The next moment, she collapsed onto the table.

Monday.

The weekly assembly.

On the field, scattered lines of students were guided by the council into neat formations.

Dan Sirou and Lin Shi arrived at the entrance, fresh from the director’s office.

In the sunlight, Dan Sirou’s soft hair fell over her shoulders. Her uniform was immaculate, the badge on her chest gleaming with authority.

Though an Omega, her presence here was anything but gentle. She was decisive, commanding, her aura sharp. Leading the student council, she had never faced dissent or scorn for her gender.

Before her, the council presidents had always been Alphas—or at least Betas less easily swayed.

She and Lin Shi cut across the formations, passing between Class Five and Six.

Her beauty drew eyes, like wind sweeping through, gazes following her figure.

Where the council’s order held, silence reigned. But behind Class Five, where no council member stood, chaos erupted.

Students shoved each other, one girl triumphant, pulling faces, oblivious to the danger sensed by others.

Zhou Yi felt something was wrong, but too late. Shadows fell, and she looked up, straight into Lin Shi’s glare. And beside her, the president.

“President,” she giggled nervously, snapping to attention.

Dan Sirou wasn’t as harsh as Lin Shi, but her tone was firm. She raised a finger to her lips. “No talking.”

Her expression was formal, but her voice was soft, like a warm breeze.

Zhou Yi’s eyes sparkled. Her fading crush reignited, heart tumbling once more.

“Yes,” she said quickly. “I won’t say another word.”

Dan Sirou recognized her. She knew Zhou Yi shared a dorm with that person, inseparable. Seeing her alone, she realized someone was missing.

She paused. “Did you come alone?”

Zhou Yi blinked, confused. “I came with her, and her, and her.” She pointed vaguely around.

Lin Shi understood immediately, snapping, “She’s asking if your class is missing anyone!”

Zhou Yi, flustered, defended herself. “I don’t know! I’m not the class monitor.”

Dan Sirou calmed her gently. “Don’t worry. I was only asking.”

Their commotion drew attention. A council member approached, reporting, “President, Class Five has one absent.” He waited for instructions.

Dan Sirou thought briefly, then said, “It’s fine.”

Night.

The day’s fatigue ended.

A slender figure stood on the balcony.

Dan Sirou, freshly bathed, had lingered there for some time.

Her knit sweater was soft and light. The cool night wind stirred her hair. She gazed down at the shadows of trees. In the darkness, with her hair drifting, her emotions were unreadable.

Perhaps even she herself felt lost.

She thought of what had happened earlier that day in Class Five, and of those ambiguous touches from two nights ago.

Now, she didn’t know how to face Jiang He.

“Dandan,” came Xiao Han’s voice from inside the room. “Why are you still outside? Isn’t it cold?”

Dan Sirou answered softly, “I’ll come in right away.”

She and Xiao Han shared one of the rare double dorm rooms at school—one granted as a privilege for managing the student council, the other for overseeing dormitory affairs. Living together was convenient.

Standing on the balcony, she had been lost in thought. Perhaps she was too distracted, or perhaps the cold had numbed her senses. Out there she hadn’t felt the chill, but once she stepped back inside, the warmth of the dorm reminded her how cold it had been.

After a few casual words with Xiao Han, they each turned to their own tasks.

Xiao Han studied her lessons. Dan Sirou, however, kept thinking of Jiang He. At last, she couldn’t resist. She opened her phone and entered that long-neglected chat window.

She hesitated, thought deeply, then finally sent: 【Feeling better?】

She expected Jiang He to reply instantly.

But after waiting, nothing came.

She distracted herself, scrolling elsewhere, playing a little, passing the time.

Seconds passed. Minutes passed. Ten minutes, twenty minutes and still no reply.

It had only been twenty minutes. She shouldn’t have expected an immediate response. But recalling their few past conversations, Jiang He had always replied at once. That had set her expectations. And when reality failed to match, the disappointment cut deeper than if she had never expected it at all.

Beyond that, she didn’t dwell. After twenty minutes with no reply, she assumed Jiang He had gone to sleep, it was nearly eleven or perhaps her illness was too severe for her to check her phone.

Either way, she decided to sleep. Tomorrow’s problems could wait for tomorrow.

Jiang He lay unconscious in the hospital for half a day.

When Jiang Bingtai received the call, he immediately booked the earliest flight from Nancheng. By the time he stepped through the door, Jiang He had just woken.

The doctor explained: Jiang He’s gland had destabilized from excessive blocker injections combined with multiple pheromone stimuli. Serious, but not life-threatening. The gland had self-healing ability, and with medication, it was more a chronic condition than a fatal one.

For the next week, Jiang He would remain in the hospital. Even after discharge, she was advised to rest at home. Her gland was fragile, sensitive—crowded places could trigger another collapse.

Jiang Bingtai asked why she had let her gland deteriorate so badly. His tone was stern, but beneath it lay concern. Jiang He told him she had been caught in the pheromone riot. Hearing that, he realized she was lucky—only bleeding from overstimulation. He didn’t press further, only warned her not to wander recklessly again.

For two days, he monitored her closely.

Phone use limited to three hours a day. After studying, she could walk in the hospital’s garden. Bedtime strictly before ten.

Aunt Lin cared for her diligently.

Her little aunt, away performing abroad, wanted to rush back upon hearing the news. But Jiang Bingtai forbade it. He made the call in front of Jiang He, his voice harsh, harsher than he had ever been with her aunt.

Jiang He stayed silent. He never explained, but she understood. He was afraid. She knew his worry.

Tuesday.

Sunlight burned her eyes awake. Jiang He stirred, groggy, surprised to see it was already past eight.

She reached for her phone, not to check anything in particular, but out of habit.

Notifications filled the screen. Most striking was a WeChat message.

Dan Sirou: 【Feeling better?】

Jiang He stared at it for a long time before typing: 【Much better.】

【I just woke up.】

It was class time. She doubted she’d get a reply right away.

But the message gave her something to hold onto. She checked her phone after meals, after naps, after walks. Each time, disappointment.

Dan Sirou, busy with council duties, surely saw the message but hadn’t replied.

And Jiang He realized, her words had left no hook, no opening for response.

She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, resigned. Then suddenly, the notification tone chimed.

Dan Sirou: 【Was it because of that day?】

【Is it serious?】

Jiang He’s lips curved upward.

【A little, but mostly my own problem. You know my gland is fragile.】

【So don’t worry.】

Seeing the “typing,” indicator gave her unexpected comfort.

Soon came the reply:

Dan Sirou:

【Rest well.】

【Don’t stare at your phone too much. Too much radiation affects the gland.】

Jiang He chuckled inwardly. She sounded just like her grandfather.

It might have some effect, but surely not that much.

Still, she replied: 【I know.】

Unable to resist, she trimmed and rewrote until she sent: 【Are you worrying about me?】

She must have lost her mind. After days of strict family concern, she had dared to ask this.

How could Dan Sirou answer?

She wanted to retract it, but too late. The message had been sent.

Seconds passed. No “typing” appeared.

Excitement gave way to despair.

She turned off the screen, refusing to hope.

Then, her phone buzzed.

Dan Sirou:

【Of course.】

【You were hurt because of me. How could I forget so easily?】

Jiang He stared at the words, dazed.

So, it was only guilt?

Was there not even a trace of genuine worry for her?

Patience.

The pace must be slow. Step by step.

Little Jiang must keep working—earn her favor, tease, charm, retreat and advance. Sooner or later, she would win her beauty’s heart.