Dr. Chi’s Mission: Seduce Officer Su - Chapter 45.2

In Chi Jue’s memory, there were no scenes of chatting casually with elders over breakfast.

During the years she lived with her grandmother, rigid family rules forbade her from speaking freely at the dining table, let alone sitting as an equal with her elders.

The rectangular dining table seemed lifeless in her eyes. She and her grandmother sat at opposite ends, separated by a vast distance, and their familial bond naturally grew cold and distant.

No matter how sumptuous the food, it was always divided into two portions, devoid of warmth and flavor.

If her grandmother didn’t initiate conversation, Chi Jue could only eat in silence.

Her grandmother never asked if the dishes suited her taste or which ones she liked best. Their conversations revolved solely around recent academic performance, tutoring schedules, and what was or wasn’t appropriate to do.

Her maternal grandmother and paternal grandmother were like two entirely different landscapes.

Her maternal grandmother was the winter sun, breaking through the clouds to shower her with boundless light and warmth, always feeling it wasn’t enough, unconditionally stuffing happiness into her arms until it swelled like a balloon.

Her paternal grandmother, on the other hand, was like a dying candle in the night, the flickering flame offered little warmth, yet its faint glow illuminated the path ahead in the darkness. But her constrained thoughts were constantly shaken by the winds of tradition, as if the flame might be extinguished at any moment.

The atmosphere grew heavy, with only the faint clinking of cutlery breaking the silence.

Perhaps thinking of her daughter who passed away too soon, her maternal grandmother set down her chopsticks after just a few bites.

Her cloudy eyes lost their usual sparkle.

She was getting old. Though her legs were still nimble, she could no longer endure the arduous journey over hills and mountains. It had been years since she last visited her husband and daughter’s graves to offer incense and paper money.

She wondered if her longing could ride the wind to sweep across their tombstones, telling them that perhaps the time was near, so near.

Chi Jue could sense her grandmother’s melancholy, but any words of comfort would feel hollow. She could only sit quietly by her side.

By the time Su Qiao changed her clothes and emerged from the bedroom, her grandmother had already retreated to her room alone.

Chi Jue gave Su Qiao a helpless shrug but said nothing.

Su Qiao’s hand, tucked in her pocket, rubbed against the bank card. Today might be a good day for honesty. Under the pretext of visiting the graves, she could finally unearth those long-buried secrets.

The new year should always begin with a fresh start. So, mustering all her courage, she resolved to reveal her imperfect self entirely to the flawless Chi Jue.

“She gets like this every year around this time. Let her be alone for a while,” Su Qiao said as she sat beside Chi Jue, tidying up the bowls and chopsticks. “Are you full?”

“Yes, I’m done. Let’s head out once we finish cleaning up. The sooner we go, the sooner we’ll be back.”

…

The weather on the first day of the Lunar New Year was splendid. The spring-tinged sun dispelled the damp chill of the entire winter.

It was wise to heed the elders’ advice, starting up the mountain late would only lead to hardship.

Clusters of people visiting graves for tomb-sweeping nearly clogged the main roads nearby.

Su Qiao, falling into her professional habits, ran into an old colleague from the traffic police department and ended up helping direct traffic in the middle of the road. After finally untangling the gridlock of cars, she hurried off to buy incense, candles, and paper offerings.

Chi Jue eyed the black bag in Su Qiao’s hand with confusion. They were visiting her mother and grandfather’s graves, so why had she bought supplies for three?

She didn’t press for answers, quietly holding Little Bear’s hand instead.

The new section of Baoshan Cemetery was situated at the end of a long, steep slope. Reaching the entrance always left one breathless.

Su Qiao’s mood grew particularly heavy the moment she stepped into the cemetery, her palm damp with a thin layer of sweat as she held Chi Jue’s hand.

Sensing her despondency, Chi Jue could only tighten her grip around the restless hand. Though she felt they should start by paying respects to the elders, she still asked gently, “Who should we visit first?”

“Of course, we’ll start with Grandpa,” Su Qiao replied with a wistful, disoriented smile, her stiff facial muscles unable to convey much emotion. “Grandpa and Mom are buried close by, one halfway up the hill, the other at the foot.”

“Do you often miss them?” Chi Jue searched for a topic to ease the tension, though in such moments, only the departed could be spoken of.

“I used to, but not so much anymore,” Su Qiao answered honestly. She didn’t believe that not missing them meant she was unfilial, time had gradually washed away the confusion and helplessness she felt when they first passed. “I’m starting to forget what they looked like. Grandma said that if one day they no longer appear in my dreams, it means they’ve already reincarnated. And that’s a good thing.”

Chi Jue had witnessed life and death many times in the hospital, but those were always other people’s stories. Her understanding of death hadn’t yet been shaped by the loss of too many loved ones.

The only family member she had lost was her grandmother. That year, as her grandmother clung to her last breath, she called everyone back, everyone except Chi Jue.

She never understood why, and no one ever told her why. It became a question that would remain unanswered for the rest of her life.

Grandpa’s grave was halfway up the hill. While Su Qiao busied herself burning paper offerings, Chi Jue held a stick of incense and bowed reverently.

Grandma had rarely spoken about Grandpa, so Chi Jue knew very little about this elder.

Not wanting the atmosphere to remain too somber, Su Qiao explained, “Grandpa was a soldier. In his youth, he fought in important battles. During peacetime, he was assigned to guard a post in the snowy mountains, a duty that lasted ten years.

The harsh environment and thin air up there left him with a chronic lung condition. In winter, he would cough for no apparent reason, and even doctors couldn’t find a cure.

He was fourteen years older than Grandma. Back then, marriages were arranged, and the ‘shelf life’ of love seemed to last a lifetime.

When he was around, he made all the decisions in the household, big and small.

He was very strict with me, almost militaristic in his approach. Even my daily routine had to follow military rules. My aspiration to become a police officer was, in part, influenced by him.

Honestly, he was quite robust for his age and never suffered from any major illnesses. But later, he caught pneumonia from a high fever, and that abruptly ended his life.”

Su Qiao sighed softly. In her memory, the image of her grandfather in his old age was hazy. What remained vivid was the youthful portrait in the frame on her grandmother’s nightstand, Grandpa dressed in an old-style military uniform, a Lei Feng hat, and a thick cotton coat, with an exaggerated red flower pinned to his chest and medals covering the front.

Chi Jue loved listening to Su Qiao’s stories, those real, yet no longer existing, tales from the past.

After bidding farewell to Grandpa, Su Qiao didn’t lead Chi Jue toward the foot of the hill. Instead, they crossed over a small section of the mountain and entered a newer part of the cemetery.

She could find that particular gravesite with her eyes closed, the place where her most dreaded nightmare lay.

As Su Qiao reached the entrance of the path leading to the grave, she pulled back her foot, hesitating.

Chi Jue didn’t understand where her sudden surge of fear came from. Before she could ask, her eyes fell upon a familiar figure.

Ao Yu was accompanying his parents as they cleared the weeds from the tombstone when he felt an unusual gaze fixed on him. He turned to look about two steps away.

Ao’s parents also followed their son’s gaze with puzzled expressions.

Su Qiao held a bouquet of white chrysanthemums in her hand, her fingers curled and pale from lack of blood. She had thought she would miss them, but the more one fears something, the more likely it is to happen.

“What are you doing here?!” The hoarse, accusing shout came from Ao’s mother. Her eyes were already red and swollen from crying, her heart aching over her daughter’s unkempt grave. The moment she saw Su Qiao, that sorrowful pain instantly turned into uncontrollable rage.

Su Qiao’s lips trembled; she didn’t know how to respond or whether her greeting would be appropriate.

She could only gently release Chi Jue’s hand. “Wait here for me. Don’t come over.”

With a suffocating weight in her chest, every step she took felt like walking on sharp, shattered glass. But what had to be faced, had to be faced. Turning and running away would be the most pathetic display of cowardice.

As she approached Ao Miao’s grave, she held the chrysanthemums and bowed deeply to Ao’s parents. “Uncle, Auntie, Happy New Year. I wanted to come see Miaomiao.”

“We don’t want you here! Get lost, get out of here!” Ao’s mother’s emotions spiraled out of control. She shoved Su Qiao, snatched the chrysanthemums, and hurled them violently into her face. Petals scattered everywhere, and the wrapping paper was torn and messy.

Startled by the sudden confrontation, Chi Jue tried to step forward and pull Su Qiao away from the assault.

Ao Yu quickly moved in front of Su Qiao, separating the two. “Mom! Calm down, please don’t do this!”

Ao’s father stood stiff-faced, silently holding his wife back, a quiet but palpable resentment.

Su Qiao felt a slight sting on her face; something on the bouquet had scratched a thin cut into her skin.

She brushed her cheek hastily. The bleeding was minimal and would fade if she rubbed it away.

Turning to face Ao Miao’s tombstone, she pressed her lips together and stared for a long, long time. If she could do it all over again, she would have taken that bullet herself.

“Haven’t you made our family suffer enough? What are you doing here? What do you want?” Ao’s mother grabbed her arm, trying to push her away with such force that even Ao Yu couldn’t stop her immediately. “Get out! We don’t want to see you!”

Ao’s mother’s heart-wrenching screams drew the attention of others nearby.

Su Qiao was mercilessly shoved to the ground, her legs feeling weak. Slowly, she pushed herself up, then moved awkwardly on her knees to the front of the tombstone.

The force of her kowtows was heavy, so heavy that everyone present could hear the sound of her forehead striking the hard stone, over and over again.

Chi Jue’s lips trembled. She couldn’t bear to see her beloved endure the judgmental stares of the crowd, nor could she stand the dull thuds of the kowtows. All she wanted was to take her humiliated lover away and soothe the bruised redness on her forehead.

Ji Nanxing had just finished tending to her parents’ graves and thought she’d stop by to visit Ao Miao. As she approached, she encountered this distressing scene.

“Don’t go.” She held Chi Jue’s arm, meeting her panicked eyes, and realized that Su Qiao had never told Dr. Chi what had happened in the past.

She walked over to Ao’s parents, nodding slightly but offering no greeting. Instead, she went straight to Su Qiao, who was still kowtowing relentlessly, and pulled her up.

Seeing her stubbornly refusing to leave, Ji Nanxing called out to Ao Yu, “Come here and give me a hand.”

The two of them worked together to support Su Qiao, who refused to leave, and brought her to the bottom of the stairs where there were fewer people, making it easier for her to calm her emotions in peace.

Ao Yu never once blamed Su Qiao from start to finish, only letting out a sigh of pent-up frustration before turning and hurriedly ascending the steps to leave.

Ji Nanxing pulled out a wet wipe she carried with her and gently wiped the sand off Su Qiao’s forehead.

From the perspective of both a friend and a colleague, her heart ached for Su Qiao. “As long as your sincerity and intentions are there, that’s enough. Don’t be too hard on yourself, and think about Miaomiao’s family too.”

She turned to look at Chi Jue, who seemed dazed, and realized that some explanations needed to come from Su Qiao herself. She shook her head with a faint smile. “Stay with her quietly for a while. I’ll go upstairs first to comfort Ao Yu’s family.”

Su Qiao leaned against the rough railing, her eyes vacant as she stared down the path in the direction of her mother.

Like a child who had made a mistake, she helplessly held back tears that threatened to spill, as if saying to her mother, “I’ve messed up. Can you teach me what to do?”

Chi Jue knew that this was not the time for questions or empty words of comfort. Silently, she pressed the tissue gently against Su Qiao’s face, helping to stop the blood seeping from the wound.