After Dating the President O, I Turned Into a Puppy-Like Lover - Chapter 41.2

When they stepped out of the station, night had already swallowed the sky.

Dan Sirou, still shaken, glanced helplessly at Jiang He. That morning, she had been neat and composed; now she was disheveled and battered.

She remembered seeing her like this once before.

Jiang He looked calm, but she was easily provoked—always confident in her abilities. The outcome wasn’t disastrous, but it was never ideal either.

Dan Sirou couldn’t quite understand her. Seeing the cuts and torn clothes, she asked softly, “Do you want to go to the hospital?”

Jiang He turned to her. She wanted to complain, to say how much it hurt. But she held back.

“No need,” she said quietly.

She sank back into the numbness of her arm. She knew it wasn’t serious, time would heal it.

“You should still get it checked,” Dan Sirou urged gently.

Jiang He shook her head. “It’s fine. I’ve been hurt plenty of times before.”

“You’ve often been hurt?” Dan Sirou murmured, assuming she meant from fights.

“Mm.” Descending the station steps, Jiang He explained, “Back when I was on the island, the daily training was intense. Injuries were inevitable.”

“You were on the island?” Dan Sirou narrowed her eyes. “Isn’t that place remote? Your family’s in Dongcheng, why were you there?”

“My grandfather used to work there,” Jiang He said, lowering her head. The night wind cooled her face, easing the pain. A faint shadow crossed her eyes. “He wanted me to attend the island’s university.”

Dan Sirou nodded thoughtfully.

She had heard of Island University, said to be the nation’s best military engineering school. She had never considered that path herself, so she hadn’t paid much attention.

“Your grandfather must have high expectations.”

Jiang He nodded. “He’s always been good to me. I don’t want to disappoint him.”

Dan Sirou hesitated, then asked from a friend’s perspective, “Do you live with your grandfather? What about the rest of your family?” She had always wondered, she had never heard Jiang He mention her parents.

Jiang He’s gaze dimmed. She rarely spoke of her mother, but now, inexplicably, she wanted to confide in Dan Sirou.

“My mother died when I was born. My other mother remarried abroad. I’ve never seen her.”

Dan Sirou parted her lips, but no words came.

She hadn’t expected Jiang He’s past to be so heavy. No wonder she was so quiet. Outsiders only saw the polished family background, never the hidden sorrow.

Dan Sirou had always thought she bore too much herself. But compared to Jiang He, at least she had once known carefree happiness.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” she said softly after a pause.

“It’s fine,” Jiang He replied.

As they walked, they passed a pharmacy.

Dan Sirou stopped suddenly, having noticed the sign. Jiang He halted beside her.

“If you won’t go to the hospital, at least get some medicine,” Dan Sirou said gently. “You can’t just leave it untreated.”

Her eyes narrowed, her tone serious. Yet it wasn’t the sternness of school, it was more like a girlfriend’s scolding, harmless in its warmth.

Jiang He smiled faintly. “Alright.”

They bought alcohol, gauze, antiseptic, and ointments as recommended. After paying, they sat on a stone bench outside.

Jiang He began unwrapping the supplies, opening the antiseptic bottle, tearing open a cotton swab packet.

Then a slender, pale hand reached out. “Give it to me.”

She looked up. Dan Sirou’s eyes held quiet concern, her lashes gilded by the streetlight’s glow.

“I’ll help you,” she repeated softly, lips parting gently.

Jiang He froze, then unconsciously handed her the swab.

She watched as Dan Sirou lowered her lashes, dipped the swab carefully into the antiseptic, every movement precise.

The swab touched her skin—cool, sharp. Jiang He’s heart skipped a beat.

The sting of pain snapped her back, just as her gaze met Dan Sirou’s.

Those alluring peach-blossom eyes shimmered under the light, lashes fluttering, lips full and glistening like petals, glowing faintly with moisture.

Jiang He had always loved her eyes. But now she realized, she loved her lips even more.

They looked like a delicate cake, fragrant and irresistible, begging to be tasted.

As she worked, Dan Sirou scolded softly, “You shouldn’t have rushed out. I told you I’d already called the police.”

“But by the time they came, that Omega would have already—” Jiang He murmured in protest.

She believed she hadn’t been wrong. If it happened again, she would make the same choice.

“You still need to know your limits,” Dan Sirou said, frowning. “This time it was three men. What if next time it’s a dozen? This time you found help. What if no one comes? Don’t mistake luck for certainty, you’ll pay the price.”

Jiang He pressed her lips together. She thought Dan Sirou didn’t fully understand her.

She had been caught off guard. Even without help, she still had her trump card—her pheromones. If she had released them, those men wouldn’t have lasted long.

Dan Sirou tossed the used swab into a plastic bag, pulled out another, and was about to unwrap it when her phone rang.

Jiang He sensed immediately this call was important. She watched closely.

Dan Sirou didn’t check the caller ID. She simply rejected the call, cutting the sound abruptly.

Jiang He already guessed who it was. She said nothing.

The phone rang again. Dan Sirou frowned, letting it buzz for a while. Jiang He held her breath, watching.

Finally, Dan Sirou looked up. “I’ll take this call.”

Jiang He nodded. “Alright. I’ll do it myself.”

Dan Sirou handed her the swab. Jiang He dipped it into the antiseptic, but her mind wasn’t on the wound. She watched Dan Sirou walk away to answer.

“I’m busy. Why do you keep calling?” Dan Sirou’s face was calm, but her voice carried restrained anger.

“Rourou,” Zhou Tingchen’s voice was anxious, afraid she’d hang up. “Please listen. What you saw today, it wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Oh.” Dan Sirou’s tone was flat.

“Rourou, are you angry?” Zhou Tingchen pleaded. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It was Qiao Zhi who asked me out. She gave me something, I don’t know what and I felt awful. Then she went into heat because of me. In that moment, I had no choice but to give her a temporary mark. But Rourou, listen, I only like you. She took advantage of me when I wasn’t clear-headed. I’ll never see her again.”

“You know she likes you, don’t you?” Dan Sirou inhaled sharply, unable to hold back. “Handle things with her properly. If you can’t, fine. Just don’t drag me into it.”

Zhou Tingchen was silent for a moment,

Dan Sirou hung up the phone without the slightest hesitation.

She still didn’t know how to face Zhou Tingchen. To say she was angry—no, as she had just said, she wasn’t. But to say she felt nothing at all wasn’t true either. There was a faint discomfort lodged in her chest, whether toward him or toward the situation itself. Perhaps this unease had begun the day she failed to make it to Dongshan Temple, only now surfacing in full.

In any case, she had no desire to face Zhou Tingchen for the time being.

When she returned to the streetlight, Jiang He had already finished treating her wound and wrapped it in gauze.

Dan Sirou felt a pang of guilt. She had promised to help, yet halfway through she had walked away. Her gaze softened as she looked at Jiang He.

“Fu Jiu should be here by now,” Jiang He said, hiding the disappointment in her eyes as she pointed toward the supermarket.

Dan Sirou blinked, as if she had forgotten Jiang He was supposed to meet Fu Jiu. “Oh, right.”

Though Jiang He harbored resentment toward Zhou Tingchen, her concern was not jealousy but Dan Sirou’s safety. Even though she had already decided to head home, she still said, “I’ll walk you back. The streetlights there aren’t working.”

“It’s fine.” Dan Sirou smiled faintly. “Didn’t we see workers fixing them earlier? They should still be there. With people around, I’m not afraid.”

“Alright then.” Jiang He nodded.

On Sunday, Jiang He stayed home nursing her injuries.

The night before, Dan Sirou had messaged to ask if she’d gotten home safely. Jiang He replied that she had. That was the entirety of their conversation.

She sensed that Dan Sirou seemed warmer toward her now. If she was to start a chat, Dan Sirou would surely respond. But she didn’t.

Mostly because she didn’t know what to say.

Monday morning.

The sky didn’t fully brighten until after eight, yet the classrooms were already alive with the sound of vigorous recitation.

In the grove of trees, the towering canopy cast the area in a dim light, resembling dawn at five or six in the morning.

A lithe figure stood outside the fence, surveying the surroundings. The student council members on duty were all stationed at the main gate, leaving the grove deserted, cold, and forgotten.

It was no surprise. In the dead of winter, frost clung to the branches, and even passing through chilled the spine. Who would willingly linger here?

The loophole in the fence had been patched since the start of term. Sharp iron spikes now lined the top, deterring students from sneaking through.

But Jiang He, despite her injured arm, scaled the fence with ease. Agile and light, she landed steadily on a stone below, her bag thudding softly, the sound swallowed by birdsong.

She felt no urgency about being half an hour late. She was already a habitual offender, and in winter no one came to this secluded place. Whether late by thirty minutes or one, it made no difference.

She brushed imaginary dust from her clothes, indulging her compulsive habit, and prepared to stroll leisurely toward the classrooms.

But as she lifted her head, a figure appeared in her line of sight—so striking it nearly scared the soul out of her.

Not a ghost, not a shadow.

But someone far more intimidating.

Dan Sirou.

Her uniform was immaculate, just as it had been at the start of term. Soft hair fell over her shoulders, and her peach-blossom eyes, usually warm, now held a serious, almost severe expression.

She said nothing, but her gaze fixed on Jiang He with such gravity that Jiang He felt her scalp prickle. Why am I so unlucky? she thought. She had been late far less this semester, yet every time she was, she seemed to run into Dan Sirou.

Maybe she should just admit fault.

Jiang He opened her mouth, but Dan Sirou spoke first.

“This is your third time being late, isn’t it?” Her tone was both questioning and declarative.

Cold sweat broke across Jiang He’s back.

Right, admitting fault wouldn’t help.

Three tardies meant a major demerit. Two major demerits meant expulsion. She already had one from standing up for Fu Jiu. With this, she now had two.

Yet Jiang He felt no panic. Not because expulsion wasn’t serious, but because the news had come too suddenly. She hadn’t even processed it.

“Your hand is still injured, and you climbed over like that. Do you realize how dangerous it is?” Dan Sirou frowned, her voice tinged with reproach.

“Mm.” Jiang He nodded obediently, her attitude contrite.

Danger aside, she was already worrying about the inevitable phone call summoning her grandfather. How would she face that storm?

The looming consequences were so overwhelming that, strangely, she no longer felt nervous in front of Dan Sirou.

Silence stretched between them, the grove heavy with unspoken tension.

Then Dan Sirou lowered her lashes and said quietly, “Next time, come earlier. Don’t be late again.”

The words echoed in Jiang He’s mind. She savored them, clinging to them like driftwood in despair. She looked up at Dan Sirou in disbelief.

Dan Sirou brushed her hair aside, averting her gaze quickly.

Her leniency was a mistake.

Any look of gratitude from Jiang He would only deepen her guilt. She wanted to move past this as quickly as possible.

This time, Jiang He truly hadn’t meant to be late. She was simply too slow.