The Devious, Seductive Older Woman Has Been Plotting to Get Me for a Long Time - Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Attentive Care

C University is located in Luancheng, a thirty-minute high-speed train ride from Lucheng. Even so, carrying a thick quilt was no easy task.

Xiang Shuxing pushed her suitcase into the campus, her breathing slightly uneven. After she had refused, Chu Yingqiu really didn’t mention driving her again. When she left home, Xiang Shuxing had been pouting, staring straight ahead and deliberately refusing to give the woman even a single glance.

Now that she had calmed down, she felt that such actions were truly childish. She wondered how Chu Yingqiu had reacted when she left without saying a word.

Such thoughts kept popping up. Xiang Shuxing lowered her eyes to the maple leaves under her feet, but in her mind, she kept replaying Chu Yingqiu’s expression from earlier. When she had sharply pointed out that she didn’t want to be disturbed, she might have been imagining it, but it seemed as if the other woman’s mood had dipped for a split second.

She preferred to believe she was mistaken; after all, they hadn’t seen each other in years and were essentially strangers. Why would Chu Yingqiu be emotionally affected by her?

Xiang Shuxing shook her head, putting the excess thoughts aside, and walked toward her dormitory. Just as she pushed the door open, she ran into Chi Jianqing, who was preparing to head out. Chi Jianqing was carrying a suitcase and several bags, a mask covering her face, and she looked quite unwell.

“What’s wrong?” Xiang Shuxing asked, surprised. She looked like she was heading home. Chi Jianqing was a model student who never missed a class unless it was an emergency.

Chi Jianqing turned her face away and coughed lightly. “So many people in our class have colds and fevers recently, and I think I’ve caught it too. Take care of yourself, Xiao Shu.” After the brief explanation, she left in a hurry.

Xiang Shuxing looked down at her phone and saw 99+ messages in the class group. Just as Chi Jianqing said, many classmates were sick and asking for leave, and the counselor was busy keeping count. A sense of foreboding settled in her chest. She stood at the door for a moment, suppressed her inexplicable worry, and went inside to unpack.

A few minutes later, the counselor’s notification arrived as expected: “@All members: Many students have requested leave due to the flu recently. Please take care of your health.”

There was a wave of flu every spring or winter, so it wasn’t a surprise. Xiang Shuxing found a few boxes of cold medicine and prepared them in advance. She had been sickly since she was a child, and this flu outbreak seemed quite severe, so she had to take precautions.

Some students being out didn’t affect classes, so the schedule remained unchanged. Over the next few days, she wrapped herself up tightly and wore a mask. Whether this strain of flu was particularly virulent or for some other reason, despite her caution, she still caught it.

Feeling dizzy and miserable all over, Xiang Shuxing followed suit and asked Professor Cheng Yian for leave. The difference was that while most of her classmates chose to go home to recover, she remained alone in her dorm.

Xiang Shuxing leaned against the back of her chair, feeling utterly drained. If Xiang Yinghua were still here, she would have gone home just like the others. Whenever she was sick, her mother would put aside all company business to care for her meticulously. In her memories, those were the moments when Xiang Yinghua was at her gentlest. But if she went home now, she would only face Chu Yingqiu—that cold, annoying woman.

Thinking of this, she tapped into her chat window. There wasn’t much content; she and Chu Yingqiu had almost never chatted, and the only messages there were ones she had sent herself. Looking at the empty chat log, a thought suddenly struck her: If Chu Yingqiu knew I was sick, would she take the initiative to care for me?

A moment later, she turned off her phone, laughing at herself for having such an absurd thought. For her, Chu Yingqiu’s care made no difference. It would be best if Chu Yingqiu never sent a message; she preferred the quiet and didn’t want to deal with her anyway.

Her headache intensified. She took the cold medicine with warm water and climbed into bed to rest. She remembered that in the past, a dose of medicine and a good sleep were all it took to get better. She hoped this time would be the same.

When she regained consciousness, the dorm was pitch black. Xiang Shuxing checked the time: 7:00 PM. She had slept for four hours, but the headache hadn’t eased. Worse, her entire body felt burning hot—she was starting to run a fever.

Knowing this situation was more severe than ever, Xiang Shuxing forced herself up, changed, grabbed her phone, and went to the hospital nearest the school. The entire process—from registering to seeing a doctor and getting a prescription—was excruciating, but she had no choice. She had to endure the pain and run back and forth alone to pay the fees.

Only when she finally found a seat and was hooked up to an IV did she let out a long sigh. Everyone else waiting for treatment had family with them; she seemed to be the only one alone. Xiang Shuxing lowered her head silently.

The temperature plummeted at night. She had come out in a rush, wearing only a thin jacket, and now, shivering from the cold wind, she trembled. She couldn’t help but pull her body in. Diagonally across from her sat a mother and daughter; the girl looked like a toddler, maybe three or four years old, and the mother was full of worry, holding the girl in her arms. The child was bundled in a thick, fluffy blanket, wrapped up tight, while the mother’s hands were left exposed, frozen red.

Xiang Shuxing looked away, blinking, her eyes stinging for no reason. If Xiang Yinghua were still here, I would be pampered with the same gentle care. What was the point of being entrusted to Chu Yingqiu? That bad woman would only enjoy watching her suffer or seeing her at her worst.

Feeling resentful, Xiang Shuxing opened their chat window. Looking at the still-empty screen, she randomly selected a few ugly-cute stickers and sent them—ten in a row. Then she flipped her phone over and slumped back against the cold chair. She was dizzy and in deep, indescribable pain, but exhaustion eventually overcame the cold. She couldn’t hold on and drifted off to sleep against the chair.

When she woke up again, the mother and daughter across from her were gone, and the hospital clinic was mostly empty. Xiang Shuxing rubbed her temples and tapped her phone screen. It was still on the chat page with Chu Yingqiu.

The difference was that following her string of stickers was a missed video call and several replies from Chu Yingqiu: [What’s wrong?] [Where are you?] [Sui Sui?]

The successive messages looked urgent. Xiang Shuxing woke up fully, looking closely: it turned out she had accidentally tapped the video call button after sending the stickers. She had been sound asleep at the time and hadn’t replied; did Chu Yingqiu think something had happened to her?

Xiang Shuxing’s fingers moved, ready to explain, when she suddenly heard a familiar voice nearby:

“Xiang Shuxing.”

The voice was stained with the cold, heavy darkness of the night, hiding a trace of other emotions. Xiang Shuxing looked up to see her. Chu Yingqiu’s brows were lightly furrowed. She was still wearing that light gray wool coat, a few strands of hair scattered across her temple, looking a bit disheveled.

“You… how did you get here?”

Chu Yingqiu didn’t answer. She leaned in to feel her forehead. “Still a bit warm.” Perhaps because she had rushed over, the woman’s hands were warm; there was no cooling relief when she touched her forehead. Still, Xiang Shuxing leaned back instinctively. She wasn’t used to such contact, especially not from Chu Yingqiu.

“I can manage alone. You didn’t need to come,” Xiang Shuxing explained. “That video call was a mistake; I didn’t mean to call you.”

Chu Yingqiu still said nothing. She took out a garment she had brought and handed it to her. “Are you cold? Put this on first.”

Xiang Shuxing looked away. “Go back. I’m fine; there was no need for you to make a special trip.”

The clothing remained held out, unaccepted. Chu Yingqiu stared at her, then lowered her hand and draped it over her shoulders directly.

“I said I didn’t need it,” Xiang Shuxing said awkwardly, but she couldn’t fight off the woman’s assertive movements.

Seeing her resistance, Chu Yingqiu’s voice went cold. “When other people get sick, they ask for leave and go home. Why didn’t you go back?”

Xiang Shuxing lowered her head, twisting her fingers, and said nothing.

“And you asked the counselor for leave this morning. You were already feeling unwell then, but you powered through an entire day before coming to the hospital—without telling a single soul, is that it?”

Xiang Shuxing gave a cold snort. “Did I need to tell you? You already knew, President Chu.”

“I only found out after I called your counselor.”

Xiang Shuxing froze and looked up. The fatigue in the woman’s eyes was obvious. It was highly likely that she had rushed over immediately after finishing her company work. A sliver of guilt sprouted in her heart, and her tone softened. “How did you know I was at this hospital?”

Chu Yingqiu sat down beside her. “Because this is the hospital closest to C University.”

“Do you want me to get you some hot water?” The woman picked up her thermos, asking softly.

Xiang Shuxing nodded, no longer refusing. She watched as the woman returned with the water, then flipped through the instructions for the medicine the doctor had prescribed, checking them carefully. Xiang Shuxing pulled the coat around herself; it seemed to still hold a faint, fresh scent. Watching Chu Yingqiu busy herself with her care, she felt something indescribable and unclear welling up in her heart.