Dr. Chi’s Mission: Seduce Officer Su - Chapter 15

Su Qiao crossed the desolate, empty intersection. Behind her, the southern district resembled a city that never slept, its brilliant lights illuminating half the sky.

Walking alone against the backdrop of prosperity, she was like a speck of dust swallowed by the vast, dark night.

Having missed the last bus to the old city, taking a taxi was an unplanned luxury. Her only remaining option was to walk home.

By the time she arrived, the old clock on the wall had just struck midnight.

Thinking her grandmother had already gone to bed, she didn’t dare make too much noise. Instead, she tiptoed into the living room, moving as stealthily as a thief.

“You’re back?”

A soft, melancholic voice called out, startling Su Qiao. She mechanically turned her head toward the source of the sound.

Only a small desk lamp was lit by the sofa. Her grandmother was holding an unknown booklet, not looking at her sneaky granddaughter but staring intently at the object in her hands.

“Uh… it was a rare gathering, so I stayed out a bit late… Why aren’t you asleep? What are you looking at?” Su Qiao made up an excuse on the spot and sat down beside her grandmother, her gaze also falling on the booklet.

It was an old photo album with a plastic cover that seemed ready to peel off at any moment. The yellowed, faded old photos exuded an overwhelming sense of time, almost discomforting.

Su Qiao sighed softly and wrapped an arm around the hunched shoulders of the elderly woman. “Our little fairy shouldn’t be staying up so late. Go to bed.”

“No respect for your elders,” her grandmother chuckled, poking Su Qiao’s head. She casually pulled out a photo and handed it to her. “Here, take a look.”

Su Qiao took the photo and examined it carefully. The soft light made her eyes appear clear and bright.

In the photo, an elegant and beautiful woman smiled radiantly. She wore a floral-print dress popular in that era, sitting sideways on a wooden bench in some scenic area. Behind her, lush weeping willows swayed in the wind, frozen in that eternal moment.

As if guided by some unseen force, Su Qiao flipped the photo over. In the bottom right corner, a simple note was written in pen, 2004, 30 years old, Spring by the Lake.

Her mother’s handwriting was as delicate and neat as she herself had been.

Seeing her mother at the same age she was now felt like a bullet piercing through the fabric of time, striking Su Qiao right between the eyes.

“Nineteen years ago… Time flies,” she murmured, her downcast lashes trembling slightly. “Do you miss her?”

Her grandmother’s cloudy eyes glistened with a faint mist. She shook her head silently, patted Su Qiao’s leg, and made to stand up and return to her room.

The dead would never know, but the living could only soothe their pain with memories.

Su Qiao understood that no matter how small this home was, to the elderly woman before her, it felt overwhelmingly empty and cold.

“Grandma, are you still angry with me?” she asked guiltily, her voice barely a whisper as she placed the photo back into the album, her worry weighing heavily on her chest.

“Silly child, you haven’t done anything wrong. Why would I be angry?”

“I…” The words about her job hovered on the tip of her tongue, but Su Qiao found herself at a loss.

“Old people tend to worry unnecessarily. All I ask is for you to be safe and sound.” The elderly woman patted her granddaughter’s head. “Don’t struggle alone. The wind… will blow past the thorns. One must look forward.”

“I eat well, sleep well, and I’m as strong as an ox. What is there to worry about?” Su Qiao’s tone was light, but her smile felt strained.

She helped the old woman back to her room and, before gently closing the door, said playfully, “I want to eat the steamed rolls you make tomorrow morning.”

“Alright, I’ll steam a few extra for you to take to the office and share with your colleagues.”

“No need to go through the trouble.” Su Qiao pouted in the shadows, likely not wanting her grandmother’s enthusiasm to be met with indifference.

Back in her small bedroom, she leaned against the door, tiredly rubbing her face to wipe away the welling sadness.

The ringtone pierced the room’s tranquility, startling Su Qiao into patting herself down, afraid of disturbing her grandmother next door.

After all, it was an old house with hardly any soundproofing.

When she saw the caller ID on the screen, her heart skipped a beat, how could she have forgotten to check in?

“Hello?”

“Are you home?” Dr. Chi’s voice sounded soft and gentle, making it hard to tell if she was upset.

Su Qiao covered her mouth and whispered, “I just got back.” She hurried to the window, hoping the noise from the late-night street vendors would mask her voice.

“You must have sneaked off to outer space without me. Otherwise, why would it take over an hour to get home?” Chi Jue’s tone was complaining, yet light as a little sprite.

Perhaps this way, the “little bear” on the other end wouldn’t feel like a burden.

Su Qiao chuckled foolishly, “Okay, I admit it. I just took a quick trip to the moon.”

Chi Jue didn’t press further, laughing as she said, “Staying out late means you’ll have to stand in the corner as punishment.”

“It’s past midnight already. Even Cinderella has finished her ball. Shouldn’t Dr. Chi be asleep by now?”

Over the phone, Chi Jue paused before lazily replying, “Are you trying to hang up on me?”

Sensing a hint of displeasure, Su Qiao quickly explained, “I just don’t want you staying up too late.”

“Then tell me a joke. If it’s funny, I’ll go to sleep. If not, you’re not allowed to hang up.”

“Does a three-and-a-half-year-old need a bedtime story too?”

“Of course! After all, a three-and-a-half-year-old isn’t even old enough for kindergarten.”

Su Qiao stifled a laugh and rubbed the bridge of her nose. The whiny mumbling made her imagine Chi Jue puffing out her cheeks adorably.

“Hmm… let me think… ah, got it!” She snapped her fingers. “There was a little duck who stepped in mud and started running super fast, then fell asleep. The story’s called: ‘Mud Fast Sleep Duck’ (You should sleep fast)~”

“Hmph, so lazy. Not funny at all.”

“Dr. Chi must be teasing me on purpose. You know I’m not good with words.” Su Qiao pouted innocently and flicked the small potted plant on the windowsill in mock anger.

“Am I? I’m just telling the truth. Try another one~”

Faced with the light laughter from the other end, Su Qiao found herself unable to refuse.

She racked her brain for a long time before stammering, “Alright, here’s another one… When you’re counting sheep to fall asleep, suddenly one little sheep jumps out and says, ‘Can you be more careful? You’ve already counted me once. Goodnight!'”

Su Qiao held her forehead in embarrassment, her toes curling hard enough to dig out a three-bedroom apartment.

Cold, so cold. Colder than the chilly wind outside.

“Hahaha, that’s so lame! Are you a machine that produces dad jokes?” Chi Jue’s bell-like laughter was genuine as she tried to contain her giggles and asked, “I just want to know… is that little sheep the one from the convenience store that didn’t get beaten up? Hahaha…”

That question raised the hilarity level to 10,000%.

Su Qiao also burst into laughter: “Hahaha… Is Dr. Chi always this humorous?”

“Humor depends on the person~ Just tell me, is that right or not~”

“Of course not!” Su Qiao replied hastily, but the sudden flutter in her chest made her babble incoherently: “That little lamb isn’t well-behaved at all. Even though she doesn’t set a curfew for me, I don’t want her staying up late~”

…

Chi Jue wore a satin long nightgown, its loose collar half-open to reveal delicate collarbones.

She leaned lazily against the floor-to-ceiling window, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably from laughter.

Through the receiver, Su Qiao’s voice was soft and fluffy, as if her throat were stuffed with cotton.

Interpreting the words “don’t want her staying up late” as a hidden confession, she narrowed her eyes slightly, savoring the subtle sweetness.

Parting her lips to say something, a carefree smile spread across her face, brimming with deep satisfaction, at the very least, she didn’t want to hang up the call hastily.

Turning around, she habitually exhaled a breath onto the glass, using her fingertip to trace a small heart in the fog: “Alright then, the little lamb says goodnight to the little bear~”

“Then the little bear wishes the little lamb sweet dreams~”

“I’ve noticed… you never say goodnight.”

“Goodnight is so cliché. With ‘sweet dreams,’ the one you miss might just sneak into your dreams.”

The one you miss? Chi Jue blinked in surprise, tucking stray strands of hair behind her ear as she murmured, “Who does the little bear miss?”

“Dr. Chi, you guess~”

How could Su Qiao’s playful response stump the clever Chi Jue?

Chi Jue felt a tingling in her ears, the phrase “Dr. Chi” was the answer she wanted.

Clutching her warm chest, she chided affectionately: “You little rascal!”