After Dating the President O, I Turned Into a Puppy-Like Lover - Chapter 43

“President, she started it!”

“You two were the ones playing with filthy things, and now you’re trying to shift the blame.”

“I lost a phone, and my face ended up like this. Is it a crime just to look? What Alpha hasn’t seen something like that, find me one who’s pure.”

“And why should I find one for you?”

Fang Qing fought hard to defend Jiang He against the two boys. Their voices were loud and rough, while the Omega’s was shrill and piercing.

Fang Qing was gradually overwhelmed.

The quarrel, noisy as a marketplace, drained the last of Dan Sirou’s patience. She said coldly, “Enough.”

Everyone fell silent, turning their eyes to her, waiting for judgment.

Her gaze swept slowly across them. After a pause, her lips parted: “Go to the infirmary first.”

With that, she turned, leaving behind a cold silhouette.

Zhou Yi, who had been trying to mediate, followed her with relief.

The four guilty ones huddled together in pairs. Jiang He and Fang Qing walked in the middle, while the two most injured boys limped at the back, supporting each other.

Fang Qing kept glancing at Jiang He, wanting to speak but holding back.

She hadn’t expected Senior Jiang to stand up for her like this. At first, Jiang He had promised only to warn the boy, but seeing how disgusting he was, she had stepped in forcefully.

Even if she had struck the wrong person, Fang Qing would never forget the favor.

Even Wei-jie could only have done so much.

“Senior Jiang, I’ll explain everything to the president for you. Even if we’re punished, if we face it together, it should be lighter.”

Jiang He looked at the girl’s constant comfort and concern, and gave a faint smile.

But it was a hollow smile, weary and lifeless.

“No need. Just clear yourself of blame,” she said calmly, eyes fixed ahead, as though she had already accepted what was coming.

She believed she understood Dan Sirou well.

Dan Sirou was serious and responsible, intolerant of even a grain of sand in her eye. She pursued perfection with near-obsessive rigor. Though she seemed gentle and easygoing, when it came to decisions, she was more resolute than most.

Someone like her left no room for sentiment.

Jiang He began to prepare herself for the possibility of expulsion.

Zhou Yi struggled to keep up with the president. They were about the same height, but Dan Sirou’s pace was swift, and Zhou Yi’s short legs had to work hard to match it.

She was certain the president’s mood was terrible.

And rightly so—causing fights in front of the visiting delegation was shameful, humiliating the school abroad.

Zhou Yi didn’t want to provoke her now, but for her boss’s sake, she had to play dumb and look for an opening.

“President.”

Dan Sirou kept her eyes forward, answering faintly, “Mm.”

Zhou Yi hadn’t heard clearly, so she pressed on. “President.”

“What do you want?” Dan Sirou turned slightly, her tone edged with displeasure.

“Heh.” Zhou Yi scratched her head. “Where are those people going? Shouldn’t you let the vice president handle this? You don’t need to stay with them, shouldn’t you be with Marina? She likes walking with you.”

“I said I’ll handle it.” Dan Sirou’s voice was slow, deliberate, each word clear.

Zhou Yi: “…”

Fine, whatever makes you happy.

She glanced back helplessly, thinking: Boss, you’re on your own now.

At the infirmary, the two boys especially the one who had been using the phone was in bad shape.

His face was a mess, not a clean patch left. His hair stuck up like a bird’s nest, bruises everywhere, blood streaking his skin.

The doctor spent a long time bandaging him, even giving him a tetanus shot.

Jiang He and Fang Qing, by contrast, had only minor scrapes and were given simple ointments.

Once everyone was treated, they were brought to the student council office.

It was lunchtime, so the place was empty.

Dan Sirou looked at them and asked coolly, “How do you propose we handle this?”

The group was stunned, not expecting her to throw the question back at them.

The two boys, shameless as ever, seized the chance. “We ask the president to punish that second-year. She’s too violent. If nothing is done, how can students feel safe?”

Zhao Dawei chimed in: “Exactly. I suggest expulsion. Wasn’t she the one criticized last time too? She clearly has violent tendencies. She bullies us first-years just because she’s a senior Alpha.”

Listening to them, Dan Sirou felt her patience slipping away.

She lifted her eyes briefly to the girl who had remained silent throughout. Jiang He’s head was turned aside, making no attempt to defend herself. Her stern profile hardly matched the image of someone prone to violence.

When the boys finished, Dan Sirou asked evenly, “If she’s expelled, then what about you?”

“We,” Zhao Dawei faltered.

Zhou Yi quickly seized the advantage. “Didn’t you say she smashed your phone? Who allowed you to use it during class break?”

“Exactly,” Fang Qing added. “And harassing others.”

Zhao Dawei’s eyes darted nervously. “But, even if we’re punished, it’s not as serious as her hitting us.”

“Do you want me to say what you were watching on that phone?” Jiang He suddenly spoke, her voice cold.

All eyes turned to her.

Her gaze was icy, sharp with menace.

If given the choice again, she would not hesitate to strike them.

The boys fell silent, guilty and ashamed.

Jiang He glanced at Dan Sirou at the desk. The girl was elegant, poised. Jiang He couldn’t bear to hear anyone insult her, or covet her.

She had only lashed out to shut them up. Even if she was expelled, she wouldn’t expose what they had done.

She couldn’t stand the thought of Dan Sirou being dragged into gossip, even as a victim.

“If we strictly follow the rules, Jiang He would be expelled. But you two,” Dan Sirou said coolly, “would face at least half a month’s suspension, and lose all eligibility for awards.”

Cheng Fang pressed his lips together, silent for a long time before pleading: “President, please. Don’t suspend me. My grandmother is over seventy, and she’s my only family. If she knew, it would break her heart.”

Seeing him relent, Zhao Dawei also prepared to beg.

“I can give you a chance,” Dan Sirou said, lowering her gaze. “The school is hosting delegations these days. I don’t want outsiders to see our worst side. Whether you settle this privately is up to you.”

Her reasoning was flawless, leaving no room for argument.

The boys exchanged looks, then turned to Jiang He.

She had no objection. Both sides apologized, and the boys limped away together.

Fang Qing wanted to leave with Jiang He, but Jiang He gently refused.

When only the two of them remained, Jiang He’s cold aura faded. She pressed her lips together, eyes flickering nervously toward the girl seated at the desk.

Dan Sirou sat in silence, deep in thought, her expression stern.

Jiang He felt a pang of fear.

Then Dan Sirou looked up, her gaze locking onto Jiang He.

Her eyes burned with anger. She rose, narrowed her eyes slightly, and walked toward her.

She was half a head shorter, tilting her chin up to meet Jiang He’s gaze, scrutinizing her.

She had prepared many words of reproach, but seeing the girl’s lips pressed tight, her posture contrite, something softened. The urge to scold faded.

Instead, she paused and asked, “Are you hurt?”

Her tone was gentler than she had intended.

Jiang He was surprised. She finally dared to lift her eyes, replying with awe, “No.”

Then she added, “They couldn’t do anything to me.” Her voice was confident, meant to reassure, but also to show her strength.

Dan Sirou disliked hearing that. Her softened expression hardened again. “So, you’re very capable, then.”

The words sounded like praise, but Jiang He felt none of it. Seeing Dan Sirou’s displeasure, her scalp prickled with dread once more.

Dan Sirou bit her lip in frustration.

She brushed back her hair, glanced sidelong at Jiang He, and seeing her bowing her head with such obedient contrition, chose to say nothing.

“Alright, you can all leave now.” After a pause, she spoke lightly.

Turning away, her long, silky hair fell across her back, shutting Jiang He out.

“Do I have to go too?” Zhou Yi leaned closer to ask.

“Yes,” Dan Sirou replied.

Jiang He stared at her for a few seconds, dazed. She felt there was something left unsaid, something she hadn’t explained to Dan Sirou. But since Dan Sirou wasn’t pressing her, she had no right to force an explanation. So, she stood awkwardly, caught between speaking and silence.

“Come on, boss.” Zhou Yi grinned brightly, genuinely happy for her.

She threw her arms around Jiang He’s like a teddy bear, her gesture warm but rough. Jiang He winced, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Boss, what’s wrong?” Zhou Yi asked, startled, watching Jiang He clutch her arm.

Dan Sirou turned back, her gaze dropping to the spot Jiang He was holding.

She immediately guessed, it must be the wound from last week’s fight.

“Roll up your sleeve,” she instructed calmly.

Jiang He looked up at her. If it had been anyone else, she wouldn’t have obeyed so readily. But for Dan Sirou, she did.

She unbuttoned her denim jacket and pushed it up to her elbow. Beneath it, a pure white long-sleeved shirt was stained with dried blood, stark against the fabric. Even Jiang He was shocked.

As she pushed the sleeve higher, the scabbed wound clung to the cloth. She frowned, forcing herself to peel it away.

Dan Sirou’s brows knit tightly, her heart aching at the sight.

“Sit over there. I’ll put medicine on it.” She gestured toward the wooden sofa, her tone cool but steady.

Jiang He glanced at her, shy and reluctant to show weakness in front of someone she liked. She wanted to say she could do it herself, but after everything today, she swallowed the words.

Zhou Yi plopped down beside her, playing the spectator.

The day had been full of strange events and it wasn’t over yet.

Dan Sirou examined the wound. It hadn’t been this bad before.

With an Alpha’s healing speed, four or five days should have been enough, especially for someone of Jiang He’s level. Clearly, the fight had torn it open again. The fragile spot couldn’t withstand such strain.

Her Omega instincts stirred. The irritation in her heart faded, replaced by tender concern.

Lowering her lashes, she took a clean swab, spread ointment on it, and gently touched it to the wound.

Her peach-blossom eyes shimmered with care as she asked softly, “Does it hurt?”

Jiang He’s heart skipped a beat. She shook her head, obediently murmuring, “No.”

Dan Sirou pressed a little harder.

Jiang He froze, dazed. A strand of hair fell across Dan Sirou’s forehead, adding to her gentle beauty.

Drowning in her tenderness, Jiang He’s body relaxed. Her senses heightened until pain suddenly surged.

“Ah.” She hissed, sucking in a breath.

Dan Sirou looked up quickly, brows furrowed, as if sharing her pain. “Didn’t you say it didn’t hurt?”

Jiang He’s lips twisted awkwardly.

She had endured wounds like this before, never feeling pain. Or perhaps, even if it hurt, she had never had anyone to tell, no one cared.

But now, in front of Dan Sirou, she felt strangely fragile.

“Bear with it,” Dan Sirou coaxed gently.

“Mm.” Jiang He pressed her lips together and nodded.

She surrendered her arm, holding her breath, every nerve alive to the sensation of Dan Sirou’s warm fingers brushing her skin.

Her heart tickled like ants crawling, restless, expectant of every touch. Even the sound of a wrapper tearing seemed sweet, echoing inside her.

After three minutes, the medicine was applied. Dan Sirou tossed the used swab into the trash.

Suddenly, another exaggerated hiss came from beside them.

Dan Sirou turned to see Zhou Yi mimicking Jiang He’s expression, smiling playfully. “Ah, President, I’m hurting too!”

Dan Sirou glanced at the supplies. “There’s medicine here.”

“What?” Zhou Yi realized she meant for her to do it herself. She pouted. “But my hand’s injured, it’s hard to apply it properly.”

Her fall in the classroom had been serious. She’d bruised her hip, strained her back, and scraped her arm against a desk edge, leaving a deep cut.

Dan Sirou watched silently as she rolled up her sleeve, showing the wound with a look that said, See? I wasn’t lying.

She hesitated, saying nothing.

Zhou Yi pressed on shamelessly. “President, it really hurts. I’m right-handed, and the wound’s on my right hand. It’s so hard to do it myself. Why are you so good to Jiang He? What’s your relationship?”

Dan Sirou fell silent.

Yes, what was her relationship with Jiang He?

Nothing, really.

She only knew Jiang He was injured. That day’s bravery had left her with some goodwill. She simply couldn’t bear to see her struggle. If it had been anyone else, she would have done the same. Even Zhou Yi.

“You want medicine too?” she asked. “I’ll help you.”

Zhou Yi’s eyes lit up. She had only been teasing, but now she was thrilled.

President is too kind. I’ll sing her praises forever.

She eagerly rolled up her sleeve. “Here, it hurts so much.”

Dan Sirou looked at her plump little hand and patiently applied the ointment.

Meanwhile, Jiang He sat like a puffed-up pufferfish, her mood sinking lower, her gaze darkening.

“If it hurts, tell me,” Dan Sirou said warmly. Zhou Yi’s teasing had reminded her to spread her care evenly, like a master balancing cups of water.

“Mm.” Zhou Yi closed her eyes, enjoying it.

Dan Sirou picked up a swab, dipped it in ointment, and moved toward the swollen skin.

Just as she was about to touch it, another hand appeared, gently holding her wrist, not forceful, but firm enough to stop her.

She looked up, puzzled, into Jiang He’s serious gaze.

Jiang He’s voice was solemn, yet tinged with tenderness. “You’re tired.” It wasn’t a question, nor a suggestion, but a statement—like a doctor diagnosing a patient.

Dan Sirou: “?”

Zhou Yi, ever the troublemaker, chimed in, “She’s fine, it’s just medicine. Not tiring. I’ll give her a massage later.”

Her words died as she felt Jiang He’s icy glare.

The warmth of the room vanished. It was as if she’d been thrown into a freezing wind.

She quickly shut her mouth, rubbed her nose, and muttered, “Maybe she is a little tired.”

Dan Sirou looked from Jiang He’s sudden chill to Zhou Yi’s deflated pout.

She flexed her arm, frowning slightly, and scolded softly, “Why are you so harsh with her?”

Jiang He: “…”

She pouted, frustrated. She didn’t think she’d done anything wrong, but Dan Sirou’s words mattered. She began to reflect seriously on her actions.