Wen Tingli was woken by a low murmur of voices.

It was a foreigner’s voice, faintly familiar. She tried to turn her head toward the sound, but hadn’t the strength, and then she remembered it was the voice of that Dr. Louis she’d met at the Lu mansion.

“The right leg is only slightly scraped. The main issues right now are low blood sugar and fever… From what I can tell, Miss Wen’s illness is due to overexertion. She’s severely lacking in sleep and nutrition, and she’s also far too mentally strained. This bout of cold weather was, for her, like the final straw that broke the camel’s back. Fortunately she’s young and healthy—if it had been someone frailer, this would have turned into a serious illness by now. Let her rest well for now, and once she wakes, have her eat some light congee, and I’ll prescribe her some vitamin tablets (note).”

Wen Tingli didn’t dare move an inch. From the looks of it, she was still at Kuang Zhilin’s home.

Oh no! She had no idea whether she’d succeeded in stopping Lu Shicheng from keeping his appointment.

Then she heard Louis say: “Mr. Lu, I came in such a rush earlier that I accidentally left a few things behind—I’ll head back to the clinic for a moment. Michelle, you stay and look after the patient.”

Wen Tingli instinctively held her breath—so the other person was Lu Shicheng!

From the sound of it, her words had had an effect—he’d ended up staying because he was curious what Qiu Lingyun had revealed to her. Feigning unconsciousness had been her last resort; to make it convincing, she’d deliberately skipped breakfast before leaving that morning, and her performance must have been quite convincing… no, she really had fallen ill, because right now there wasn’t a bone in her body that didn’t ache.

If not for that, she might not have been able to fool Lu Shicheng.

She smiled wryly, meaning to open her eyes, but her temples throbbed—that crushing, dizzying sensation was truly unbearable. She endured it for a while, and finally managed to pry open a sliver of an eye to secretly survey her surroundings.

This was a spacious suite—outside the bedroom there was evidently a sitting room as well. The room was brightly lit, but she couldn’t tell whether it was morning or afternoon.

Recalling the heavy rain that morning, she felt herself under the covers and was startled to find that she’d been changed into a clean set of clothes at some point without her knowing.

She broke out in a cold sweat.

Then she heard a woman outside say in surprise: “You’re saying Miss Wen is awake?”

Immediately a nurse poked her head in: “Oh, she really is awake!”

Seeing Wen Tingli’s flustered expression, the nurse smiled as she came in to explain: “Don’t worry, I’m the one who changed your clothes. Mr. Lu really does have sharp hearing—I thought you were still asleep.”

Wen Tingli looked outside and said to Michelle: “Thank you. What time is it now?”

“Half past eleven.” The nurse came over to take her temperature.

What—she’d only been unconscious for three hours?!

By now Lu Shicheng knew she was awake and would surely come at once to ask what exactly Qiu Lingyun had said. After the questioning, he could still go to Principal Zou’s for lunch as planned, but tomorrow was Yifeilin’s preliminary round—if Zhu Zihe could manage to meet with Lu Shicheng today, something would definitely come of it.

Without another word, she threw off the covers and got out of bed, but suddenly everything spun.

“Don’t move.” The nurse hastily set down the thermometer and steadied her. “Your fever hasn’t gone down, and you had low blood sugar earlier—you absolutely shouldn’t be getting up right now.”

Wen Tingli listlessly held her forehead: “I have something extremely urgent to tell Mr. Lu. Also, it rained so hard this morning, and I’ve been gone so long—my family will be worried. I need to call and let them know I’m safe.”

“At least eat something first to line your stomach—only then can we give you the second round of fever medicine.” The nurse brought in a food tray from the outer room. “This congee isn’t too hot anymore—now’s a good time to eat it.”

Wen Tingli glanced outside and asked quietly: “Is Mr. Lu out there?”

“He was, but he just left.” The nurse smiled. “Don’t worry, Mr. Lu never once came into the room the whole time. And honestly, Mr. Lu is so thoughtful—he had the kitchen prepare a good deal of food, ready for you to eat whenever you wake up.”

Wen Tingli looked thoroughly ashamed: “Mr. Lu has always been this considerate to people… I really feel bad, troubling him again like this.”

“Illness comes crashing down like a landslide—no one can withstand it. Dr. Louis says this is what’s called overwork sickness. This should serve as a wake-up call for you, Miss Wen—no matter how busy you get from now on, you should take proper care of your health.”

That bowl of eight-treasure congee was cooked rich and fragrant, and Wen Tingli could hardly wait to finish it in one go, but she forced herself to act as if she had no appetite.

“I… I can’t eat any more.”

“But you’ve only had two sips.”

Wen Tingli shook her head apologetically: “My stomach’s a bit off.”

The nurse set the congee aside thoughtfully: “Seems there are digestive symptoms too—let me ask Dr. Louis what to do.”

Wen Tingli said weakly: “I’d like to ask you to call Head Nurse Liu at Cixin Hospital’s internal medicine ward for me, please, to let my family know: I’m at a friend’s house for a while and will be back shortly.”

She knew that Li Chengying’s people must be worried sick by now—she needed to let them know she was safe.

Before long, the nurse came back from making the call, but didn’t come straight in, only saying from outside: “You want to ask Miss Wen something? She’s awake. Fine, I’ll go in and ask her.”

Wen Tingli startled—Lu Shicheng had come!

He must have followed up on something through the Qiu Lingyun lead, otherwise he wouldn’t be so eager to ask questions. She hadn’t quite decided how to handle this, but now she’d made up her mind.

Someone was walking toward the room. Wen Tingli hastily shut her eyes—feigning sleep or tears had always been her forte. She could be scrutinized up close without giving herself away, but she was still afraid Lu Shicheng would see through it, so she deliberately turned her head to the inner side, pretending to sleep.

“Miss Wen, didn’t you say you had something urgent to tell Mr. Lu—huh?”

Wen Tingli’s heart beat slightly faster. Fortunately, Lu Shicheng didn’t rashly come into the room. The nurse hurried in to check on her condition, then tiptoed back out: “It’s fine, she’s just asleep. Her appetite’s poor—she only had two sips of that congee… yes, I’ve already reported this to Dr. Louis over the phone.”

Wen Tingli anxiously monitored the movements outside the room. The bait had been cast, but she wasn’t sure if it was enough to hold Lu Shicheng back.

Only about ten minutes had passed before she felt her body stiffen like a block of stone. Feigning sleep was already far more uncomfortable than actual sleep, and on top of that, her heart was still hanging in suspense. Suddenly she heard someone coming upstairs, and heard that morning’s steward say outside: “As you instructed, I called Principal Zou—I said you had an urgent matter come up and couldn’t make it. Also, I’ve already given word to the docks—are you planning to head there this afternoon?”

Wen Tingli was both alarmed and delighted—once Lu Shicheng suspected the Bailong Gang matter was connected to the third young master, he immediately took action.

Right after, Dr. Louis also came upstairs: “I heard from Michelle. No, no, no, loss of appetite isn’t necessarily an early sign of typhoid either. Let me go in and check on the patient’s condition first—if it really is typhoid, fasting would actually be good for her.”

Wen Tingli kept her eyes shut, feigning sleep. Only at this moment was she certain her morning’s efforts hadn’t been in vain, and her tensed nerves gradually relaxed. As she kept up the pretense, she genuinely fell asleep without meaning to.

This time she slept even more deeply than before. She dreamed of her mother.

In the dream, it seemed to be some summer evening. She and her mother sat on separate little stools; she was still very young, holding a big slice of watermelon in both small hands, eating it, while her mother gently fanned her with a cattail fan. Her mother still looked as she had in life, wearing a plain, unadorned qipao, her hair coiled into a round bun at the back of her head. Dim light filtered down from above the alleyway, illuminating the scar on her mother’s face, now visible, now hidden.

Wen Tingli’s nose stung, and she buried her head in her mother’s embrace.

“Mama, I miss you.”

Her mother held her tightly in return.

Wen Tingli wept: “You don’t know how much has happened at home these past few months. I’m so tired, Mama. Don’t go. Xiao Taozi and I can’t do without you.”

The more she spoke, the more aggrieved she felt, tears rolling down one after another. But then her mother suddenly let go of her. She chased after her, but her mother’s figure grew fainter and fainter, farther and farther away. She cried out, chasing after her, when suddenly the ground beneath her feet gave way.

Downstairs in the sitting room, Lu Shicheng was on the phone, with Zhou Wei reporting to him on the other end.

“Besides delivering papers around here, Miss Wen also works as a switchboard operator at Exceleen Trading Company—one job in the morning, one in the afternoon, both jobs arranged by the Gao family’s eldest daughter. I’ve already had the trading company checked out—Miss Wen is diligent every time she comes to work. I got hold of a recording of her and listened to it; it doesn’t sound like a temporary performance, nor does it sound like she’s going through the motions. She should genuinely be short on money.”

After hanging up the phone, Lu Shicheng stood still for a good while without moving. Just then, a sharp, anguished cry sounded from upstairs.

His expression froze. There was only Wen Tingli upstairs right now, and the cry was so wretched, as if she’d encountered something terrifying.

Just as he reached the stairwell, Old Liu also came out at the sound: “Is Miss Wen unwell?”

No—it sounded like she was caught in a nightmare. She’d had a fever all day, and by now she should be about to wake.

Lu Shicheng stood at the stairwell landing, listening for a moment, then went back to the tea table and continued reviewing his documents.

But Wen Tingli didn’t stop crying. The sobbing carried down intermittently, unsettling to hear. It wasn’t sniffling, nor was it talking in her sleep—it was a heart-wrenching wail, as if all the suffering pent up in ordinary times could only find release in a dream.

Old Liu said: “People who are ill are most prone to nightmares. Pity Michelle went back to the clinic with Dr. Louis to attend to another critical patient. Should I go up and wake Miss Wen? Being trapped in a nightmare too long can harm the spirit.”

Lu Shicheng gave silent consent.

Just as Old Liu was about to head upstairs, Lu Shicheng set down his documents and stood up instead. Wen Tingli wasn’t familiar with Old Liu—being abruptly woken by a stranger in the middle of a nightmare would only frighten her further.

He went up to the second floor, walked straight through the suite. The bedroom door was half-closed, her disjointed dream-murmurs drifting out from within.

As he drew closer, he finally made out clearly that she was crying “Mama,” the sobbing pained and stifled.

The scene felt strangely familiar, freezing him in the doorway—some memory buried deep in his mind was suddenly stirred loose by those repeated cries of “Mama.”

He knew that in dreams, witnessing the departure of a beloved one hurt no less than it did while awake. She was already ill; this would only worsen her condition.

So he raised his hand and knocked firmly on the door, but Wen Tingli’s crying only grew more urgent.

Suddenly the bed frame creaked. She seemed to be struggling violently in her dream. Glancing inside, he could vaguely see she’d rolled to the edge of the bed—it was a high-framed bed. He hurried into the room, arriving just in time to catch her body at the bedside.

She was caught in the grip of the nightmare fiercely, her body still bearing down toward the edge. He had no choice but to brace her with his knee and right hand on one side, his left arm encircling the rest of her body. Once she stopped moving, he shook her shoulder trying to wake her, but unexpectedly, Wen Tingli grabbed his arm in return.

She suddenly opened her eyes.

Their gazes collided.

Lu Shicheng tried to pull back but couldn’t manage it, and had no choice but to patiently wait for her to fully wake. The light was somewhat dim, but his eyes adjusted after a while, and he saw the tear tracks on her face, and noticed her gaze was somewhat unfocused.

Her eyes still held traces of regret, sorrow, reluctance, and pain…

He gazed at her quietly. This Wen Tingli before him was like a completely different person from her usual self. Normally she seemed to have endless things to say, boundless energy, unspent enthusiasm to spare—but the Wen Tingli in front of him now was so fragile and pitiable.

In her dream, Wen Tingli felt herself step into empty air, her whole body plunging off a cliff. Just as she panicked, not knowing what to do, someone caught her from below.

Her heart still pounding with fear, she gasped for breath, gazing blankly upward. Only once her scattered wits gathered again did she recognize that the person she was gripping was Lu Shicheng.

Her mind froze instantly. In the half-darkness, Lu Shicheng’s eyes looking at her seemed strange, as if he too were somewhat lost.

Suddenly the light brightened before her—Lu Shicheng had reached up and switched on the bedside lamp, and by that light he studied her earnestly for a long moment, then very gently pushed her back onto the bed.

Then, he didn’t linger in the room, but quickly retreated back out.

She heard the steward say quietly outside: “Good, she’s awake. All that crying and screaming is most draining on the spirit… yes, yes, I’ll bring the food up right away.”

Wen Tingli listened blankly. What exactly had just happened? Why had Lu Shicheng been at her bedside…

Had she had a nightmare? The scene in the dream was vivid before her eyes, and every word in the dream was still etched in her heart.

How long had she cried? How long had she made a fuss? From what the steward said, it seemed Lu Shicheng had come to check on her because something seemed off.

Thinking of how she’d just grabbed onto Lu Shicheng and refused to let go, she could no longer bear to lie there. She forced herself up, pushed the covers aside, and the moment she got up, she was startled to find her clothes soaked through inside and out. So wet… She leaned against the bed frame, dazed, wondering—perhaps it was from the fever medicine—just how long had she been unconscious? Outside the sky had already darkened; it was at least dusk by now.

Turning her head, she noticed a set of clean clothes folded at the foot of the bed—the very set she’d changed out of that morning, now washed and pressed.

She cast a grateful glance toward the outer room, gathered up the clothes, and moved into the adjoining washroom. In the washroom was an oval Western mirror, and one glance startled her at her own appearance—her face pale as paper, her damp black hair sticking to her forehead in strands, tear tracks all over her face, her eyes swollen red like peaches.

No wonder Lu Shicheng’s gaze had looked so strange just now—probably frightened by this ghastly appearance of hers. By her usual nature, she’d never go out to see anyone without first properly grooming herself, but right now she truly had no strength left to wash up.

“Knock knock knock.” A servant suddenly rapped lightly at the door outside. “Miss Wen, are you alright? Your high fever has only just broken—you shouldn’t wash your hair or bathe right now, to avoid fainting again.”

Wen Tingli hastily answered: “Alright.” She wondered inwardly how the steward knew she was contemplating washing up. She scooped up water to wash her face clean, then used soap to wash the hair at her forehead, checking herself in the mirror from all angles, feeling considerably refreshed, before changing clothes and leaving the room.

Having gone hungry all day, walking felt like treading on cotton. She finally made her way to the outer room, but didn’t see Lu Shicheng.

The old steward was alone at the table, setting out the meal.

“Miss Wen had a nightmare just now, didn’t she? Drink a bowl of calming soup first.” The steward smiled as he handed over a bowl of steaming soup. Seeing Wen Tingli looking dazed, he assumed she was wondering about the soup’s origin, and explained with a smile, “Mr. Kuang has a young relative who used to suffer nightmares often as a child—when caught in one, it looked exactly like what Miss Wen just went through. Because of this, the household has always kept a stock of calming herbal ingredients on hand. This hasn’t been needed in years, but it came in handy today after all.”

Wen Tingli thought to herself that this so-called “nephew” of Mr. Kuang’s was most likely Lu Shicheng—otherwise the household wouldn’t go to such trouble keeping this stocked.

Did Lu Shicheng often have nightmares as a child? Was it also because he missed his mother? He wasn’t like ordinary people who could cry and shout it out—once caught in a nightmare, he could only endure it alone, which would hurt all the more.

Just as she was lost in these thoughts, she noticed the steward eyeing her curiously off to the side. Wen Tingli, already suspecting the steward had seen what happened in the room, felt somewhat uneasy, but brazened it out and sat down at the table, saying weakly: “Thank you.”

This time it wasn’t an act—she truly had no strength left. The table was laid with plenty of food, all of it soft and easily digestible. The eight-treasure congee had been swapped for a lighter lotus seed congee, with extra sugar added, tasting even sweeter than the bowl from that afternoon.

She’d always had a sweet tooth, so this suited her taste even better. After a few bites, her strength returned by about eighty percent, and with her spirits lifted, her mind began working again. She looked up at the steward with a smile, thinking of something to say, when someone suddenly walked in from outside and nodded at the steward, signaling him to step out.

“Young Mr. Lu.” Wen Tingli rose somewhat awkwardly.

Lu Shicheng watched the steward take the dishes away before turning his gaze to her.

【Feeling better?】

“I’m much better now,” Wen Tingli nodded quickly. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you yet, for all the trouble I’ve caused you the whole day with this illness. Oh, and that congee just now was really delicious—strange to say, whenever I’m sick or upset, eating something sweet always makes me feel much better right away.”

She was eager to make small talk to smooth over the awkwardness from earlier. Lu Shicheng, however, walked straight up to her and, by the light of the green crystal-beaded Western lamp overhead, studied her eyes with unusual focus.

Wen Tingli’s breath caught. It was the first time the two of them had stood this close—close enough to see the color of his pupils. Her whole family had deep tea-brown eyes, but his pupils were extremely dark. She saw her own reflection in his eyes, two small figures, like two pale leaves floating on water, rippling faintly with his slow, even breathing.

Her face inexplicably began to heat up, and she instinctively stepped back: “Mr. Lu…”

Lu Shicheng didn’t move, only raising something in his hand to signal her to take it.

It was a small tin box, with a piece of paper attached beneath it, a few lines written on it.

【Dr. Louis went back to the clinic to see another critical patient. Before he left, he told me to have you check the whites of your eyes once you wake—if they’re yellow, you might have contracted hepatitis, and he must be notified immediately.】

At this, Wen Tingli immediately forgot that strange feeling from before, and asked nervously: “So are the whites of my eyes yellow?”

Lu Shicheng lowered his eyes to hide the amusement in them, shook his head at her, and rather than making a phone call, sat down on the sofa nearby. Wen Tingli let out a breath of relief, then felt a bit embarrassed—she really had mistaken Lu Shicheng for trying to take advantage of her. She hurriedly changed the subject, pointing at the tin box: “What’s this, then?”

Lu Shicheng pointed at the note, signaling her to keep reading.

【If you’re still running a fever when you wake, you’ll also need to notify Dr. Louis promptly. Take your own temperature.】

Wen Tingli carried the tin box back to the bedroom. In truth, she already knew without checking that her fever had broken, since her head no longer throbbed with pain.

As she tucked the thermometer into her clothes, she glanced quietly out the door—Lu Shicheng, it seemed, had something he wanted to ask her, and hadn’t left right away.

Both inside and outside the room were quite still, but this not-too-near, not-too-far distance felt strangely safe.

Lu Shicheng often gave people this feeling—he didn’t talk much, wasn’t particularly warm toward people, and yet there was always a kind of magic about him that put everyone who spent time with him at ease. Even Xiao Taozi, who understood nothing of the world, had sensed this.

But no matter how gentle Lu Shicheng’s temperament, it couldn’t withstand being imposed upon by her again and again—she’d been lingering here a whole day. He must be sick to death of it by now inside. If she had any sense, once she’d taken her temperature, she should scram promptly.

Of course, she’d accomplished her goal for today, but having spent the whole day unconscious, she’d had no chance to find out whether Lu Shicheng had already started making countermoves, nor did she know whether Zhu Zihe had taken any further action…

After some thought, she took out the thermometer and went back out to tell Lu Shicheng: “I don’t have a fever anymore. Thank you, Mr. Lu, I should get going too.”

Lu Shicheng glanced at the tin box in her hand. Wen Tingli explained with a smile: “I’ve spent my whole life at Cixin Hospital—I learned how to read a thermometer ages ago.”

He looked at her face again, this time lingering longer.

Wen Tingli coughed reservedly. Before coming out, she’d specifically checked the mirror—her complexion was much better than right after she’d woken.

Finally, he pointed to the sofa beside her.

【Sit first.】

Once seated, Wen Tingli naturally changed the subject: “There’s actually something very important I wanted to tell you, Mr. Lu. This morning, to get rid of Qiu Lingyun, I—”

She smiled sheepishly: “I deliberately dropped your name and Mr. Kuang’s to scare him off, but he said something like Mr. Lu ‘won’t be so mighty for much longer.’ I called him a braggart, and he said to just ‘wait and see.’ No matter how I pressed, he wouldn’t spell it out. I know that father-and-son pair’s character all too well—Qiu Dapeng is vicious and cunning, but Qiu Lingyun is a blabbermouth who can’t keep anything to himself. For him to suddenly learn to hold his tongue today, the Bailong Gang really might be plotting something big.”

Having said this, she looked at Lu Shicheng cautiously: “Mr. Lu, have you offended the Bailong Gang recently? I’ve heard that Boss Cao is the type to harm people behind their backs—please, do be careful.”

Lu Shicheng was lost in thought. Wen Tingli waited a moment, then cleared her throat: “That’s what I wanted to say.”

【Thank you. I’ll be careful.】

“You’re welcome. I’ve troubled you several times now, one after another—I already consider Mr. Lu a friend. If there’s ever anything you need help with in the future, just say the word.” Wen Tingli patted her own chest.

Lu Shicheng, however, didn’t give Wen Tingli the chance to press any further familiarity, merely glancing at the Western clock in the corner.

Wen Tingli, mistaking this for a hint to see her off, straightened up seriously: “Thank you so much for looking after me today. Otherwise I probably wouldn’t have been able to compete in tomorrow’s Xinxin Department Store competition. I heard from Gao Xiaowen that because Yifeilin recruited Miss Zhu Zihe this time, they’ve drawn in a lot of advertisers all at once. Miss Dong, not wanting to be overshadowed by Yifeilin, specifically brought in a bunch of reporters to cover tomorrow’s preliminary round. If I perform poorly, I’ll be embarrassed in every newspaper in Shanghai.”

Finally, she gave a bright smile: “Oh right, this morning I heard you were going to Principal Zou’s for your appointment, so you must have seen Miss Zhu Zihe today. I wonder what program Miss Zhu has prepared for tomorrow’s competition—would it be convenient for you to let me in on it? The contestants on both sides doing similar acts will surely be compared side by side. If I knew ahead of time what category of performance Miss Zhu is preparing, I wouldn’t make a fool of myself.”

Lu Shicheng didn’t take the bait, merely lowering his eyes to sip his tea.

Wen Tingli blinked—the mood suddenly seemed to turn a bit strange.

She hastily replayed her words in her mind.

She shouldn’t have said anything wrong—even if Lu Shicheng suspected she had ulterior motives, it wouldn’t matter. She and Zhu Zihe were the star contestants for their respective sides—if Xinxin’s competition drew no audience, the future prize money and opportunities would shrink drastically. It was only natural for her to show interest in Zhu Zihe in front of him.

Oh no! Could Lu Shicheng be misreading her as trying to indirectly probe his relationship with Zhu Zihe? She bit her lip, vexed. Thinking back over everything that had happened today, it really was hard not to invite some misunderstanding.

Would he think she’d been repeatedly asking about Miss Zhu Zihe out of jealousy?

Just as she was overthinking it, Lu Shicheng set down his teacup and took the pen from his coat pocket to write:

【I haven’t seen this Miss Zhu Zihe today.】

Wen Tingli stared at the line before her, blushing.

He was sparing her feelings. He was actively giving her a way out.

For a moment, she couldn’t tell if she felt happy or relieved—she only knew she felt terribly flustered now, flustered enough that she had to end this topic immediately. So she laughed generously and said, “I hear Xinxin Department Store has prepared quite a few exciting opening acts. If Mr. Lu happens to be free tomorrow evening, you should come watch the competition at Xinxin Department Store.”

Lu Shicheng didn’t respond. Wen Tingli bit her lip again.

Fortunately, the steward came looking for him at that moment.

“Young Master Cheng, you’re wanted over there.”

Wen Tingli had no more heart to linger, and seized the chance to take her leave downstairs.

The steward, however, wouldn’t let her off, catching up with an armful of things.

“Miss Wen, Dr. Louis prescribed a few bottles of medicine for you—there are instructions here, just take them as indicated on the note. One of the medicines needs to be taken every eight hours—not early, not late. Miss Wen took the last dose at half past eleven noon, so it’s just about time for the second dose now.”

Wen Tingli checked the clock—sure enough, it was half past seven.

Looking at the note, it clearly recorded the times and doses she’d taken that day.

Such thoroughness and care were no less than the diligent nurses at Cixin Hospital.

Wen Tingli was grateful beyond words: “You’re so meticulous.”

The steward seemed about to say something, but only studied Wen Tingli with a meaningful look, glanced up at the stairs, then finally said with a smile: “The driver’s already waiting outside. Miss Wen, please get in the car.”

Wen Tingli hastily waved her hands: “It’s very close to Cixin Hospital from here—I can ride my bicycle back myself.”

“Dr. Louis says Miss Wen shouldn’t be exposed to wind for the next couple of days. I hear Miss Wen has a competition to attend tomorrow too—better to be careful.”

Coming outside, she saw that her bicycle had already been repaired by someone. The driver was helping load it into the back seat.

Even her rain cape, once covered in mud, had been washed spotlessly clean.

Wen Tingli felt boundlessly grateful, thanking them again and again. Getting into the car, she couldn’t help looking back—several rooms in the residence had their lights on, and she had no idea which room Lu Shicheng was in taking his call. She’d left in such a hurry she hadn’t even had the chance to thank him once more.

The moment she got back to the hospital, she immediately called Li Chengying.

“Falling ill is no small matter,” Li Chengying’s voice was full of concern. “Next time something like this happens, just cut the operation short—worst case, we’ll think of another way… alright, alright, alright, I know you’re anxious to help Dean Deng out of danger… you did well. Leave the rest to us. By the way, our people can basically confirm now that something’s off with Zhu Zihe. She spent the whole day at Principal Zou’s house today, apparently unable to wait for Lu Shicheng to show up. Toward evening she went to Yanfei Bookstore—ostensibly to buy books, but coincidentally, right next to the bookstore is a Bailong Gang branch office. I think she’ll take new action soon—after all, Zou Zhiping trusts her so much… alright, the moment there’s movement on her end, I’ll let you know right away.”

Even lying in bed back at the ward, Wen Tingli was still mulling this over. Zhou Sao tucked in her blanket: “Get some sleep. If you’re still not feeling well tomorrow morning, don’t go to that competition—let Dr. Thompson give you a proper checkup first.”

Wen Tingli rested her arm under her cheek, gazing blankly at the pile of medicine bottles by the bed. There was no way Lu Shicheng hadn’t grown suspicious of her today, and yet once he’d confirmed she was genuinely ill, he still hadn’t hesitated to help her.

Thinking back over these several missions, the biggest uncertainty had always been Lu Shicheng’s character—yet time and again, his conduct had proven far more principled than she’d expected.

She murmured quietly to herself: Wen Tingli, you know full well Lu Shicheng really isn’t a bad person, otherwise even if you were on your last breath, you wouldn’t have let yourself truly pass out in front of him.

She suddenly threw off the covers and got out of bed.

“What are you up to now? Careful you don’t catch cold—lie back down.”

Wen Tingli carefully put the medicine bottles away one by one into the cabinet by the bed, making sure they wouldn’t be carelessly disturbed, before lying back down.

“Look at you, taking care of your own medicine now. Taking the medicine is secondary—getting to sleep early is what really matters,” Zhou Sao kept nagging. “By the way, you were muttering on the phone earlier—were you asking someone to deliver your papers for you? Oh, and which classmate’s house did you see the doctor at? Sister Chen says this classmate of yours must be quite wealthy—these vitamin tablets, tsk tsk tsk, are so expensive.”

Wen Tingli, drowsy and exhausted, fell asleep before long to the sound of Zhou Sao’s chatter.

The next day, nearly half the newspapers were promoting that evening’s beauty pageant.

That afternoon, Wen Tingli rushed to Xinxin Department Store, where quite a few newspaper reporters had already gathered at the entrance.

“Quick, quick, quick, that’s Wen Tingli, they say she’s Xinxin’s strongest contestant this time. Miss Wen, Miss Wen, say a few words for everyone.”