After the Divorce, My Wife Is Impossible to Coax - Chapter 42

Chapter 42

An Zhaoyu had collapsed because she was in the throes of her heat following massive emotional upheaval. She had endured half the night without using an inhibitor, failed to let her body recover before taking a cold shower, and then rushed over to cook a meal. Even a body made of iron couldn’t withstand such abuse.

Lu Shen didn’t know exactly how she had managed to wreck herself so thoroughly. She carried her to the sofa in the living room. An Zhaoyu’s body curled up naturally, her skin flushed deep red from her face to her neck. Fine beads of sweat seeped from her forehead, pinning a few stray curls to her skin, and her breathing was ragged.

Removing her mask, Lu Shen found it covered in condensation. She touched the back of her hand to An Zhaoyu’s face; she was burning everywhere—her skin was hot, her breath was hot. Her black T-shirt was so soaked with sweat it could almost be wrung out. Lu Shen hesitated for a moment but ultimately carried her into the bedroom sofa; it was the only room in the apartment with air conditioning.

After adjusting the temperature, Lu Shen unfastened her underwear and changed her into clean pajamas. After An Zhaoyu’s previous visit, Lu Shen had actually prepared a set of long-sleeved pajamas here. She then retrieved an ice pack from the freezer, wrapped it in a wet towel, and placed it on the other’s forehead. Physical cooling was crucial for protecting the brain. Since An Zhaoyu had already taken medicine, she didn’t need more for now.

An Zhaoyu hadn’t lied to Lu Shen; she had indeed called the family bodyguard. Before long, the phone in her pocket rang. An Zhaoyu preferred jackets with pockets over carrying a bag. Her jacket was currently draped over the sofa in the living room, and little An Zhou was wearing it—it was far too big for her. Lu Shen fished the phone out of the pocket and answered.

“Xiao Yu, we’re downstairs at Dr. Lu’s building,” the bodyguard’s voice said.

An Zhaoyu disliked being called “Miss” or “Young Mistress,” so everyone in the household called her by her name.

“This is Lu Shen. She’s quite unwell right now; she’ll stay with me today,” Lu Shen said, her tone somewhat helpless. In her current state, An Zhaoyu couldn’t handle being moved again.

“Understood… Dr. Lu.” The bodyguard was stunned for a moment but didn’t pry. He reported back to He Nanchun and, upon receiving approval, drove away.

As the call ended, Lu Shen noticed the wallpaper on the phone: it was a photo of her and the baby taken on the baby’s first birthday. In the picture, An Zhou’s eyes were bright with trust and love, her tiny hand on Lu Shen’s face as she pouted her lips to give her a kiss. Lu Shen was leaning down beside her, her long lashes like soft feathers casting shadows on her eyelids, her eyes filled with a gentle, subtle smile.

It was a beautiful shot. Lu Shen hadn’t asked her for the photo that day, just as her own phone still held photos of An Zhaoyu and the baby that she hadn’t sent to the other woman. She put the phone back.

By now, Lu Shen was also covered in sweat. She tidied up the living room, ensuring no sharp objects were within reach, and then walked over to An Zhou. “Mommy is going to take a shower. Can you play here by yourself for a bit?”

An Zhou didn’t respond. Lu Shen turned on the TV and stood out of sight for two minutes to make sure the baby was occupied before heading into the bathroom. When she came out, the living room was empty. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Xiao Zhou!” Lu Shen called out urgently. No answer. She checked behind the sofa, under the coffee table, and inside the toy box. Then she checked the kitchen—thankfully, the door was still shut. Finally, she stepped into the bedroom, and her heart finally settled.

An Zhou had found An Zhaoyu on her own. She was lying on the sofa where An Zhaoyu slept, quietly playing with her small toys. The toddler, dressed in her animal-print onesie and flower-embroidered socks, was leaning against An Zhaoyu, her soft hair fluttering slightly like a gentle cloud.

Lu Shen watched from the side. Occasionally, the baby would look up at An Zhaoyu and touch her. Finding no response, she would refocus on her toy. It was clear that An Zhaoyu had put a lot of heart into childcare lately; the baby felt very safe around her.

However, since An Zhaoyu had a severe cold, Lu Shen had to intervene to prevent her from infecting the baby. “Hmph… no!” An Zhou protested, struggling with all her might as Lu Shen tried to pick her up. She wasn’t strong, but she was loud.

Lu Shen was helpless. An Zhaoyu was too weak to wear a mask effectively while asleep, and the baby certainly wouldn’t keep one on. Lu Shen prepared for the worst and set aside some children’s cold medicine just in case.

Having An Zhaoyu there had a side effect: An Zhou stopped fussing and stayed quietly on the sofa, allowing Lu Shen to get other things done. By the time she finished, An Zhou had fallen asleep right next to An Zhaoyu. Their sleeping postures were identical—both on their sides, with An Zhou curled into An Zhaoyu’s embrace like a docile animal, her tiny hand gripping An Zhaoyu’s index finger. Their breathing rose and fell in a synchronized rhythm.

This intimate, trusting posture reflected the pure bond between them—like a big cat and a kitten relying on each other. Worried about the fever, Lu Shen felt their faces. An Zhou’s temperature was normal, and An Zhaoyu’s seemed to have dropped, likely thanks to the ice pack. After moving An Zhou to her small bed, Lu Shen checked An Zhaoyu again: 38°C. It was coming down.

An Zhaoyu’s lips were slightly dry and peeling. Lu Shen placed a thermos on the windowsill where she could easily reach it. As Lu Shen prepared to leave, she felt a tug on her sleeve. An Zhaoyu had grabbed the hem of her clothes in her sleep—not with any strength, but just a gentle hold.

The sleeping Captain wasn’t flamboyant. She looked well-behaved, almost childish, with her messy curls and slightly parted lips. Perhaps her subconscious knew she was with Lu Shen, as she slept deeply and without guard. Lu Shen sighed softly, covered her with a thin blanket, and finally went to bed herself.

Lu Shen woke up twice during the night to check their temperatures. According to He Nanchun, An Zhaoyu had always been healthy. Indeed, by dawn, An Zhaoyu’s temperature had returned to normal, and the baby was fine.

Only then did Lu Shen sleep soundly. As soon as she did, An Zhaoyu opened her eyes. She had woken up every time Lu Shen touched her forehead, but she didn’t dare move, fearing she would scare Lu Shen away. She had silently savored the feeling of Lu Shen’s cool hand against her skin and the sense of safety it provided.

She felt a wave of sweetness when Lu Shen’s fingertips brushed her brow. Even after Lu Shen left her side, she lay still like a contented cat. Lu Shen allowing her to stay was a huge kindness; she hadn’t expected to sleep in the same room as her again.

Lu Shen used to like me, An Zhaoyu thought, her lips curving upward as she counted the seconds until dawn.

As the time for Lu Shen’s alarm approached, she quietly slipped off the sofa. She wanted to make breakfast. She had bought flour and vegetables the night before and decided to make vegetable pancakes. Lu Shen liked light, warm meals, and she must be tired of milk and bread.

“Where are you going?” Lu Shen’s voice called out from the bed after she had only taken two steps. “The kitchen…” An Zhaoyu said honestly. “Go back,” Lu Shen said coldly. “You just broke your fever and you’re already making a fuss. Is 39°C not high enough for you?”

“Oh.” An Zhaoyu retreated sheepishly to the sofa and pulled the blanket back over herself.

The free bird had become a blanket-covered quail. She lay there stiffly until the alarm finally rang. Only then did she dare sit up and drink the warm water Lu Shen had left for her.

The An family was very considerate; at 7:00 AM sharp, the bodyguard arrived to pick up the baby and An Zhaoyu to avoid imposing on Lu Shen further. The baby was taken home, and An Zhaoyu, feeling recovered, drove her own car to follow Lu Shen to the Medical Center.

However, before she could even see her team at the training ground, she was personally escorted by Lu Shen to the Respiratory Medicine Department.

At 8:00 AM, the doctors and nurses were changing shifts. An Zhaoyu and Lu Shen’s entrance drew everyone’s eyes.

“Dr. Li, I’m handing her over to you.” Once the night shift ended, Lu Shen pulled An Zhaoyu toward an elegant, middle-aged Beta female doctor. Dr. Li had wavy medium-length hair held back by a simple black clip, looking very sharp.

“Of course,” Dr. Li said, smiling at An Zhaoyu in a way that made the Captain feel a bit nervous.

Lu Shen left for the Glandular Department. Captain An, meanwhile, was seated in the Respiratory Department’s duty room, surrounded by a group of interns in white coats. Her blood tests and chest X-rays were projected onto the wall in a massive PowerPoint presentation. Dr. Li used her as a live “typical case” for the eager students.

“A young adult experiences chills, high fever, and chest pain after a cold triggered by heartbreak and rain. They cough up rust-colored sputum. Physical exam shows decreased respiratory movement on the affected side. What is this?”

“Lobar pneumonia!” the interns chorused.

“Correct. Please remember, this is the only disease in internal medicine that can fully resolve on its own,” Dr. Li said slowly. “Other types of pneumonia aren’t so kind.”

Then, the Captain was subjected to a line of students taking turns to auscultate her. Dr. Li said her symptoms were “textbook,” so with her permission, the students placed their stethoscopes on her back and chest. She felt like a mannequin. Out of professional courtesy, Dr. Li only let the Omega and Beta students listen, as An Zhaoyu was known to be uncomfortable with Alphas.

By the time the last student finished, An Zhaoyu’s face was red. Was Lu Shen punishing her by making her a “negative example”? Dr. Li suggested she take two days off. With a doctor’s recommendation and An Zhaoyu’s perfect attendance record, extending her leave was easy.

Wen Yuncheng sent her a text complaining about the workload, but she ignored him. He had passed his captain’s assessment; it was time for him to stand on his own.

Unable to sit still, An Zhaoyu left the department, bought the only decent sandwich from the staff cafeteria, and headed to the Glandular Department. She bumped into Liang Wei, who was frantically running late after her phone died and she missed her alarm.

An Zhaoyu was wearing Lu Shen’s white shirt tucked into black skinny jeans, making her legs look incredibly long. Liang Wei, a fellow Omega, almost drooled. Meeting the Captain made the lateness fine—she’d take the fine just for this “encounter.”

In the elevator, Liang Wei went through 108 different ways to say hello to her idol. Before she could choose one, they reached their floor. She dashed to the locker room and burst out in her white coat, but An Zhaoyu was gone.

She found Lu Shen instead, performing rounds with Jiang Chu. Liang Wei quietly joined the tail end of the group. Lu Shen noticed her with a brief glance but said nothing, continuing to question a young Omega patient. This was a patient Liang Wei had admitted. Because Liang Wei was late, Lu Shen had to retake the history, and the patient was getting impatient.

“I told her all this yesterday,” the patient grumbled, pointing at Liang Wei.

Lu Shen soothed her and ordered an endocrine consultation. “Your condition might not just be pheromone imbalance; it could be other hormones affected by your irregular sleep schedule. Reversing day and night impacts everything.”

When the patient tried to target Liang Wei again, Lu Shen calmly replied, “Reliable doctors are easy to find through standard training, but reliable patients are much harder to come by.”

After rounds, the Captain emerged from a corner and walked toward them. Liang Wei’s heart began to race. Did she recognize me?

“Lu Shen, breakfast,” An Zhaoyu said, handing over the sandwich. “No,” Lu Shen refused coldly. “Just a little, it was just heated up,” An Zhaoyu persisted.

“I said no.”

“Are you angry?”

“No.”

“Stop being angry.”

“…”

Jiang Chu looked displeased, while Liang Wei watched thoughtfully. Things were getting interesting.

The Captain was indeed in the “crematorium”, and she was hand-delivering breakfast.

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