After Dating the President O, I Turned Into a Puppy-Like Lover - Chapter 54

The girl’s eyelids fluttered like petals, trembling faintly. A flash of white light swirled in her vision, the ceiling lamp was too harsh, forcing her eyes shut.

After a long moment of adjustment, Dan Sirou slowly opened her eyes.

The ceiling was stark white, her mind hazy and disoriented.

Her brain, stalled for a time, began to reboot, retrieving fragments of memory. Confusion clouded her gaze.

She tried to rise from the bed, but even that simplest of movements felt unbearably difficult. A dull ache pulsed through her head, dragging at her limbs, her nape throbbing with discomfort. Most of all, her gland burned with pain, the tearing sensation nearly sent her collapsing back onto the mattress.

A soft cry escaped her lips.

Like a wilting flower, she half-sat at the edge of the bed, one hand pressed against her gland.

The bite marks throbbed faintly, reminding her of what had just happened.

To help Jiang He, who had suddenly entered her susceptibility period, she had willingly allowed herself to be marked.

As the haze lifted, her thoughts grew clearer.

She wondered what had possessed her in that impulsive moment. She had sworn not to entangle herself with Jiang He again, yet she had.

Ah.

Questions stirred in her mind.

Jiang He’s susceptibility had always seemed to occur once a month. By calculation, it shouldn’t have been now. And even though their agreement hadn’t fully run its course, she had already been marked three times. Why had there been no improvement only worsening?

These doubts had no answers. Or perhaps Sirou simply refused to dwell on them.

Now, in this unfamiliar room, on this unfamiliar bed, she felt lost.

The image of that girl’s face grew sharper in her memory.

Sirou glanced at the bed. The blanket Jiang He had just draped over her lay crumpled and soft. She stared at it for a while, then reached out with her pale, slender hand to pull it closer.

The fabric was plush, like cat’s fur warm and comforting.

And it carried a faint milky scent. Jiang He’s scent.

Her scent now, too.

Sirou tucked the blanket’s corner, inhaling its fragrance. The delicate sweetness lingered at her nose.

Her gland reacted instantly, pulsing at the familiar aroma. The milk-scent stirred within her blood, clawing at her heart like a kitten’s paw, ticklish, intoxicating. Her body flushed, her ears burned.

The physiological rush of heat and heartbeat jolted her back to awareness. She stared at herself, startled.

How had she become like this?

Craving that scent. Craving the mark Jiang He had left on her.

Shame flooded her. She lowered her head, biting her lip.

The last thread of reason whispered: Don’t indulge this. It’s only pheromones. You know how strong their influence can be.

But.

She couldn’t reconcile her abnormal reaction. Her lashes drooped heavily under the light, her pupils dim and unfocused.

After a long moment of thought, she decided to leave.

She had come to Jiang He for one last meeting. An accident had happened, but it was only a mark. Since it was done, she would let it go.

And afterward, she would follow her decision.

Keep her distance from Jiang He.

Thinking this, she found herself at the door.

Before she could turn the knob, it moved on its own. With a soft click, the door opened a crack, then swung wider.

Sunlight poured in.

A tall figure stood in the doorway, blocking part of the light, casting a shadow across Sirou’s face.

Looking up at the girl before her, Sirou’s gaze softened involuntarily. The lingering Alpha pheromones within her stirred, her heart pounding wildly.

For a fleeting moment, she wanted nothing more than to fall into Jiang He’s arms.

But her self-control was strong. No matter how intense the feeling, her carefully laid plans pressed down on her, forcing her eyes to remain calm, her expression steady.

“Where did you go?” she asked first.

Perhaps because her body was weakened by the mark, her voice carried a soft, tender lilt like a wife asking after her husband.

Jiang He looked at her. “I went to the cafeteria to get food. I thought by the time you woke up, there might be nothing left.”

She smiled lightly. “I didn’t expect you to wake so soon.”

“I saw tomato scrambled eggs, so I packed a portion. And they even had crucian carp, I heard eating it after being marked is good for an Omega’s body. I wasn’t sure if you liked it.” She lifted the food container, her warmth and care evident.

Sirou’s clear, sincere eyes reflected Jiang He’s earnestness.

No matter how determined she had been, in moments like this, it was hard not to be moved.

“I can eat anything,” Sirou said softly. “Thank you.”

Jiang He nodded with relief.

She handed over the container, her lashes lowering, eyes shadowed with unspoken thoughts.

Then she said suddenly, “By the way, President, Wu Qing was looking for you earlier.”

Sirou had just taken the bag.

Her brows furrowed faintly.

She should have focused on the words “Wu Qing was looking for you,” but instead, something else in Jiang He’s phrasing unsettled her, something even she couldn’t name.

“What for?” she asked evenly, suppressing her inexplicable irritation.

“She said Director Yu was searching for you but couldn’t find you. I didn’t tell her about us. I asked if it was urgent, she said it was fine, already resolved.” Jiang He added, “So, President, don’t worry. Eat first.”

“I understand.” Sirou lowered her lashes, her voice calm.

“Then, ” Jiang He asked cautiously, “Do you want me to walk you back?”

“No need,” Sirou replied. “It wouldn’t look good if others saw. I’ll go myself.”

Her voice was soft as a feather, but her resolve was firm.

Jiang He didn’t press further.

“Alright then.” She added sincerely, “Thank you for what you did for me today.”

As they brushed past each other, Sirou paused briefly. “It’s fine,” she said.

Then she walked away without looking back.

Jiang He stood at the door, watching her slender figure retreat, before turning back into the room.

The next day was exam day.

Students were randomly assigned to different classrooms by code for the computer-based test, held from 9:30 to 11:00 in the morning. Afterward came lunch.

By coincidence, Jiang He and Duan Xinchun were placed in the same exam hall, seated at consecutive computers.

They submitted their papers almost simultaneously. Jiang He left first, but then heard a voice behind her:

“Jiang He, let’s go eat together.”

Jiang He turned back to look at Duan Xinchun, nodded, and agreed with a smile.

She had always valued her relationships deeply. Duan Xinchun was the first person aside from Dan Sirou to truly befriend her, guiding her through Dongcheng, helping her adapt to its rhythm, and teaching her how to interact with others.

That friendship was something Jiang He could never forget.

After their recent confession, both had needed time to process, so they had kept their distance. Now that they had gradually moved past it, maintaining their friendship from time to time felt natural.

Chatting idly, the two walked together to the cafeteria. Since they had submitted their exams early, the place wasn’t crowded yet. Only two or three people stood at each food stall, and scattered students sat here and there.

Duan Xinchun picked three dishes, then headed straight for the soup counter. Jiang He, without realizing it, followed in the same direction.

She ordered braised pork at a nearby stall, while Duan Xinchun had just taken a bowl of soup.

The server had ladled too much, nearly overflowing the bowl. Duan Xinchun carried it carefully, but as she walked, the liquid sloshed. Hot soup, slick with oil, spilled down the side and onto her clean hand. The sudden burn made her flinch, her body jerking involuntarily.

Smack. She bumped into someone.

The small bowl wobbled violently, barely staying upright in its groove. But most of the soup had already spilled half onto the floor, half across the hand of the girl standing opposite.

“Are you alright?” Jiang He reacted instantly, setting her tray aside and rushing forward, her concern focused entirely on the injured girl.

The soup had just come from the pot, still scalding in the warm cafeteria air. It splashed across Dan Sirou’s hand, making her gasp sharply in pain.

But when she saw Jiang He’s brows knit tighter than her own, and those wide eyes filled with worry, she forced herself to endure the burn. Shaking her head, she reassured softly, “I’m fine.”

Jiang He still looked troubled, wanting to say more.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize someone was beside me. I really didn’t mean it, President,” Duan Xinchun stammered, her own hand streaked with oil though not as badly burned. Ignoring her pain, she apologized again and again, guilt brimming to the point of tears.

Jiang He glanced back at her, finally noticing her injury too.

And then it struck her, she had come here with Duan Xinchun. Given the circumstances, she shouldn’t be lingering at Dan Sirou’s side.

Awkwardly, she stepped back to stand beside Duan Xinchun. The girl’s hand trembled as she held her tray, so Jiang He took it from her to help.

Turning back, she said to Dan Sirou, “I’m sorry. She didn’t mean it.”

Dan Sirou looked at the two of them, standing shoulder to shoulder, their figures aligned.

Her hand throbbed, the burn spreading a painful flush across her skin.

The physical pain numbed her body, but inside, a bitter ache lingered, one she couldn’t simply brush aside.

“It’s fine,” she said quietly.

Just then, Wu Qing arrived to find her, and without another glance, she walked away.

Jiang He’s mind remained unsettled, her thoughts circling Dan Sirou’s injury.

Duan Xinchun noticed and said softly, “Go check on the President. I’ll be fine. Her burn is worse.”

Jiang He looked at her, then nodded. “I’ll go then.”

“Alright,” Duan Xinchun replied.

The hall didn’t sell burn ointment, so Jiang He ordered some through a delivery service. Being in the suburbs, it took longer to arrive.

She picked up the package at the gate and messaged Dan Sirou, asking where she was.

Walking back toward the dorms, she still hadn’t received a reply.

She tried calling, no answer.

Holding the medicine with nowhere to take it, she finally called Wu Qing.

Wu Qing told her Dan Sirou was at the flower garden, looking upset.

Jiang He hung up immediately and hurried over.

The flower garden was one of the prettiest spots at the hall, filled with seasonal blooms. In spring, the air was fragrant, butterflies drifting among the blossoms.

Jiang He ran all the way, slowing only as she neared.

Breathless, she spotted a slender figure seated on a stone bench encircling a tree. The breeze lifted strands of her dark hair, and she sat there, framed by flowers and shade, like part of a painted scene.

Jiang He sat down quietly beside her.

Her movements were so light that Dan Sirou barely noticed, until her sleeve brushed against Jiang He’s hand.

She turned her head briefly, then looked away again.

“What are you doing here?” she asked softly.

“I bought burn ointment.” Jiang He’s eyes searched her face, though she refused to meet them. Her tone was almost pleading.

Then she added quickly, “It was for Duan Xinchun. She’s already used it, and asked me to bring it to you.”

Dan Sirou kept her gaze forward, watching a butterfly dance among the flowers. Jiang He’s words sank into her mind. She bit her lip and said, “No need. Cold water is enough.”

Her voice was light, but left no room for argument.

Jiang He frowned. “That won’t do! Medicine will help it heal faster. Duan Xinchun insisted.”

“I already know it was for Duan Xinchun. How many times do you need to say it?” Dan Sirou snapped, turning to look at her seriously.

Jiang He froze, silenced.

Realizing her own tone had been too sharp, Dan Sirou turned away again, brushing her hair back. Her voice softened. “Take it back. I really don’t need it.”

“Why not?” Jiang He asked, bewildered.

Her eyes fell on the angry red mark across Sirou’s pale hand. She calmed herself, leaned closer, and said gently, “Then let me apply it for you. Please?”

“No.” Sirou’s reply was cool.

But Jiang He bent forward anyway, carefully lifting her hand.

“You.” Sirou sighed, helpless. Her hand was caught firmly not painfully, but not easily freed.

“Please, let me help,” Jiang He said, blinking at her with earnest eyes, her voice coaxing.

Sirou turned her head away, but the depth of Jiang He’s concern softened her heart at last.