The Eldest Lady always wants to have a double O Relationship with her old enemy - Chapter 33

The dust-covered memories were finally opened again, and every forgotten detail found its place one by one.

Shen Jianxi leaned against the windowsill, gazing at Tang Yanzhao who lay quietly on the bed.

She still remembered—in her previous life, after she had fallen and hit her head against a centuries-old tree, she was carried all the way down the mountain on someone’s back.

The proof was not only the handprint of Tang Yanzhao’s blood left on her leg, but also the moment when tears slipped from her eyes because of the pain and fell onto the back of Tang Yanzhao’s neck gland, and that low, steady reassurance she gave: “Don’t be afraid.”

Even in those days when she herself hadn’t realized it, Tang Yanzhao endured her dislike and still stayed to guard her.

Shen Jianxi suddenly gave a short laugh, followed by a large tear rolling down her cheek and splashing onto the floor, scattering into tiny droplets.

Her heart felt both numb and tender, sweet yet aching and bitter.

Such a foolish, clumsy kind of love—and yet it was impossible not to be moved by it.

Shen Jianxi quietly watched the sleeping Tang Yanzhao. The pallor on her face gradually faded under the effect of the medicine, and even the rough, congested sound of her breathing from the cold slowly calmed and evened out.

Suddenly, the phone in her hand lit up again. She had switched it to vibrate before chatting with Tang Yanzhao’s mother, Tang Xuan, and now the buzzing made her fingers tingle. Or perhaps it was just the feeling that had spread from her chest—who knew?

Her eyes dropped to the screen. The call was from Jiang Lan. Shen Jianxi directly slid to hang up, and opened WeChat. There were already five or six messages spamming the chat.

Before she could type a reply, another message popped up:
【What’s going on? Where the hell are you?!!!】

The flood of exclamation points revealed her friend’s frantic state.

Shen Jianxi sent a single message to steady Jiang Lan’s restless heart:
【I’m fine. I’m already home. Zhao Zhao has a fever, I’m taking care of her. Inconvenient to answer the phone.】

Her lips curved into an ever-widening smile.

Soon came Jiang Lan’s reply:
【At home? We’ll come over to see you two now.】

The we was obvious enough—most likely Jiang Lan and Ye Tao, maybe even Fang Xing too, since she and Jiang Lan had been close lately because of her leg injury.

Shen Jianxi refused:
【No need. We’re fine. Zhao Zhao needs rest. Too many people will disturb her.】

Jiang Lan, reluctant, finally replied:
【Alright then. We’ll come find you in a couple of days.】

【Okay.】

Putting her phone away, Shen Jianxi sat back down on the edge of the bed, folding her legs on the cashmere rug. She shook her head at the half-finished IV bottle, then shifted her gaze to Tang Yanzhao’s left hand—palm wrapped in gauze, veins exposed for the needle.

She carefully tested it with her own palm. The coolness of Tang Yanzhao’s hand stood in stark contrast to the warmth of hers.

Still, Shen Jianxi dared not fully hold her hand—only gently pinching her fingertips, not daring to use any strength, afraid of waking her.

Setting her phone alarm on vibrate, she leaned her head against Tang Yanzhao’s hand. Pressing her lips twice against her fingers, she whispered:

“Zhao Zhao, thank you.”

Thank you for appearing in my life. Thank you for loving someone like me. Thank you for this second chance we have.

“What’s wrong? Lost again?”

The man sneered at Tang Yanzhao collapsed on the ground, twirling a Swiss army knife in his hand. He crouched, patted her cheek, and then—whether carelessly or deliberately—cut a short, shallow line beneath her cheekbone.

Tang Yanzhao’s whole body was smeared with blood, soaking through her white undershirt. She lay on the floor, but lifted her head with stubborn pride. Her pale irises, veined with red from anger and restraint, turned aside, refusing to look at him.

The man gripped her chin, forcing her face toward him.
“With just this pitiful skill, what makes you someone the family should fear? Trash like you should be left in some forgotten corner to rot.”

The pain was nearly unbearable. For a moment, Tang Yanzhao even thought about giving up.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore.

But just as that thought arose, faint sobbing echoed through the abandoned factory, threading through every nerve in her body. Her nerves throbbed, refusing to surrender, struggling to tell her she couldn’t give in.

Blinking through stinging tears, she tried to see the trembling figure beneath the dim light. But no matter how hard she strained, it was futile.

The crying grew louder. Her pain seemed to resonate with the sound. Her gland flared on its own, reaching past the brutal beta man in front of her, straight toward that quivering figure.

Though the pheromones should have rejected each other, her green-grapefruit rum aroma struggled against the law of nature itself, desperate to shield that other omega girl.

“Faster! It’s your turn!” The man slapped Tang Yanzhao viciously, irritated at her distraction.

Tang Yanzhao coughed hard, spitting a mouthful of blood onto his shoe. Enraged, he broke the rules of their cruel game and stabbed downward—driving the knife through her right hand that supported her on the ground.

Blood spattered across her pale arm. The blade pulled free, and crimson streamed unceasingly.

Her body crumpled to the floor, vision blurring from blood loss.

But the game wasn’t over. She couldn’t remember exactly what she was supposed to do—only that she must not fall yet.

So strike after strike, stab after stab, each wound cutting deeper, each drop spilling.

At last, the wail of sirens pierced the air. Only then did Tang Yanzhao finally collapse completely, her eyes glazing.

In the haze of unconsciousness, beneath the flickering light, she saw a girl in a floral dress.

“Zhao Zhao, you’re awake.”

After a long coma, she opened her eyes again. Her gaze was unfocused, searching for that figure—but instead she floated between dream and waking, until the presence of Jianxi grew clearer.

Seeing her staring blankly, Shen Jianxi grew anxious—after all, she had been unconscious for a full day and night.

“How do you feel? Is there any discomfort?” Shen Jianxi’s voice was as soft as dripping water.

Tang Yanzhao stared for a long moment before parting her cracked lips. Her voice rasped like sandpaper:
“Are you alright?”

Shen Jianxi laughed lightly.
“So concerned about me? First words after waking are about me. Were you dreaming of me too?”

Dreaming?

Tang Yanzhao’s brows knit faintly. The dream had been vivid when she first woke, but now it was dissolving, leaving only fragments.

She remembered only the pain… and a girl in a floral dress. Her pheromones had surged uncontrollably, breaking instinct just to shield that girl.

Nothing else remained.

So who was she?

Tang Yanzhao gazed quietly at Shen Jianxi.

Shen Jianxi noticed her fixed stare and teased:
“What, did you wake up and realize you’ve fallen in love with me?”

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