Chapter 46: Bandaging

She handed the key to Lu Jia, their fingertips not quite touching.

But when she saw the girl instinctively reach out with her right hand before switching to her left, Sheng Shubai hesitated for a moment. The thought she had originally suppressed surged forward, overpowering her urge to turn and leave.

She followed Lu Jia all the way to Rong Yi’s office door.

She hadn’t planned to go in at first, but thinking of Lu Jia’s injured hand, she lowered her eyelashes slightly and followed anyway.

It was the first time in years she had entered this woman’s office, which was as cold and sparse as the person herself.

Sheng Shubai stopped Lu Jia from rummaging around. “If you’re injured, don’t move around. Where are the things? I’ll get them for you.”

Lu Jia pointed to the third drawer of the cabinet. Sheng Shubai took out the gauze from the first-aid kit and asked if she needed anything else. Then she turned and headed for the door.

As if staying one more second would suffocate her.

The College Building was divided into two parts: the teaching and office areas on the left, the studios on the right, connected by a glass-covered walkway exposed to the elements.

The rain was still heavy, blowing in with the slanting wind.

Lu Jia glanced at Sheng Shubai’s clothes.

The woman didn’t know from where she had come, dressed formally and vibrantly in a black long trench coat over a cool-toned long skirt—not the sort of outfit for outdoor activities.

A few raindrops drifted in. Lu Jia lagged a few steps behind and, just before turning into the walkway, quietly positioned herself on Sheng Shubai’s right side.

The slightly thick winter coat provided some bulk, and what used to look like a slender profile now blocked quite a bit of the cold wind.

Sheng Shubai wasn’t oblivious; she naturally noticed the gesture.

The tile floor was wet from the rain, slick and prone to slipping.

She took Lu Jia’s hand, her tone casual: “The ground’s slippery. Careful you don’t fall.”

Lu Jia gave a soft hum.

It was just a simple handhold, but the woman’s cool fingertips pressed against the back of her hand, as if they had been soaked in the cold wind for a long time.

In summer and autumn, she had held Sheng Shubai’s hand too.

Back then, though her body temperature ran cool, it had still been within the normal range.

Touching such a chill now, Lu Jia unconsciously tightened her grip. She remembered how the woman had hurried out of the car earlier, rushing up the steps. Even in those few seconds when the rain had eased, she had inevitably gotten wet.

When going upstairs, she had only wiped the water from her hands; the tips of her hair still held a damp sheen.

Just as Lu Jia thought to change their grip and warm Sheng Shubai’s fingertips in her palm, she realized something and abruptly stopped herself.

Given her current relationship with Sheng Shubai…

Such an intimate gesture was still too inappropriate.

The person beside her showed no intention of speaking, so Lu Jia naturally stayed silent too.

She just sensed that Sheng Shubai walked a bit faster than usual, her heels clicking crisply on the tiles. When they passed through the walkway and she turned her head slightly, their eyes met inadvertently.

Her heart skipped a beat unavoidably.

Lu Jia kept her expression calm, her gaze sliding toward the distant studio—as if she had merely glanced toward the door.

Entering the studio, her eyes fell on the iodine and medical bandages on the table. In her peripheral vision, the wastebasket below held crumpled papers stained with blood.

Sheng Shubai’s eyes darkened. She gestured for Lu Jia to sit properly and forbade her from moving.

Even when Lu Jia insisted she could handle the wound herself, Sheng Shubai refused.

“With only one hand usable, what are you trying to prove?”

She turned on the desk lamp, carefully peeling away the paper wrapped around the girl’s middle finger.

The bleeding had stopped, with signs of drying and clotting. It stuck between the wound and the paper; any force would tear at the freshly clotted area.

Her gaze fell on the deeply carved knife wound.

Sheng Shubai fetched a fresh cotton swab, soaked it with newly opened mineral water, wet the paper, and gently peeled it away.

“How did it happen?”

Her voice was soft, afraid a heavier tone might press painfully on the wound.

“The knife almost fell; when I caught it, my finger landed right on the blade.”

Seeing Sheng Shubai reach for the iodine on the table, Lu Jia spoke up. “I’ve already applied iodine.”

The wound was too deep; applying it hurt, and she didn’t want to go through that again.

Sheng Shubai laughed—a genuine laugh born of exasperation. “Is the knife more important than the person?”

Lu Jia fell silent for a few seconds. “This one’s pretty good. I’d finally gotten used to it; I was afraid it’d break and I’d have to replace it.”

Sheng Shubai wanted to rub her brow, but one hand held the iodine bottle, the other the cotton swab—no room to spare. She sighed. “What if it had been a bit deeper…”

She cut herself off mid-sentence.

Not just to avoid jinxing it, but because the words had slipped out so naturally, stunning her.

When had she become such a nagging worrier? It couldn’t be age catching up.

Since the wound had touched paper towels, she had to disinfect it again for peace of mind.

The cotton swab tip soaked up dark iodine, which she spread slowly and meticulously over the wound, careful not to miss an inch.

Seeing Lu Jia purse her lips and glance aside.

Her other fingers twitched, tensing subtly—but nothing escaped the woman’s notice.

Sheng Shubai pressed down gently at the deepest part of the wound. Her pressure was precise, letting the iodine seep in without reopening it.

As expected, Lu Jia let out a sharp hiss, then immediately stifled it.

She gave Lu Jia a sidelong glance. “You do know it hurts?”

Lu Jia admitted honestly, “I was wrong.”

It was the first time she had heard Lu Jia apologize. Sheng Shubai looked at her meek, obedient expression, but her mood wasn’t much improved.

In the end, this had nothing to do with her; Lu Jia didn’t need to apologize to her.

Sheng Shubai just felt stifled—this promising talent neglecting her own hand, prioritizing a carving knife above all else.

Once her emotions grew complicated, she lost the will to respond. She used nearly a whole roll of gauze, wrapping the slender middle finger in layer upon layer like a silkworm cocoon.

Lu Jia stared silently at her finger for a few seconds; her index and ring fingers were pushed apart to the sides.

She paused, not daring to make a sound.

Once the woman secured the bandage, Lu Jia tested it with a few movements and found it didn’t hinder her much.

“Thank you, Professor Sheng.”

She checked the time—from receiving Sheng Shubai’s message to finishing the bandaging, less than twenty minutes had passed. “Sorry for the trouble of coming all this way. Are you free to grab dinner together later? My treat.”

Sheng Shubai replied flatly, “Your mentor was tied up, and I was just passing by—no trouble.”

As for dinner…

She had no qualms ditching a professor friend from the neighboring school. “How about that new tea restaurant nearby? I’ve heard good things.”

Lu Jia nodded in agreement.

With her hand injured, she needed to apply for an extension on her submission deadline from her department instructor.

In the passenger seat of Sheng Shubai’s car, Lu Jia held her phone with both hands, her thickly bandaged middle finger sticking up awkwardly. Her expression was serious, but she hadn’t typed a single character for minutes.

She wasn’t very familiar with this instructor, who was both diligent and rigid about courses, so she hesitated over every word while drafting the email.

The teacher had repeatedly emphasized timely submissions; she wasn’t sure if her reason was sufficient.

Though she had played it cool in front of Sheng Shubai earlier, saying her middle finger was just auxiliary and wouldn’t affect her much.

But Lu Jia knew full well it was important.

Crucial, really—for fine control of pressure and knife angle.

“What are you looking at? You’ve been staring at your phone in a daze for three minutes.”

Sheng Shubai gripped the steering wheel and glanced sideways at her.

It was a stormy day in the city center; traffic was jammed ahead, and the GPS showed at least five more minutes of gridlock.

Lu Jia pursed her lips. “My assignment might be late. I’m thinking about how to explain it to my teacher.”

Hearing the department instructor’s name, Sheng Shubai tsked.

Back in undergrad, Professor Jiang had taught her printmaking classes—a notoriously strict terror to students.

Sheng Shubai had zoned out through those lessons, scraping by with minimal effort.

Professor Jiang, not yet at retirement age then, had recognized her talent and solid foundation, plus ties to several Sheng family elders.

She had dragged Sheng Shubai aside for earnest talks multiple times, but seeing her unresponsive, later just shook her head and sighed whenever they met—like Sheng Shubai had committed some grave waste of potential.

Even after switching to watercolor and becoming an associate professor in the same department, Sheng Shubai remained deferential toward Professor Jiang.

No helping it—the old lady could ramble from ten-year-old anecdotes onward.

Sheng Shubai cleared her throat. “I can’t put in a good word for you. Try your mentor instead.”

Lu Jia hadn’t planned to ask Sheng Shubai to intercede anyway; she just didn’t know how to phrase it. Thinking this woman usually had fox-like emotional intelligence, having her review the email draft should be fine.

“No issues with what you wrote. Just send it as is.”

Taking her phone, Sheng Shubai skimmed the lines. She didn’t open the attached image—likely proof of the injury.

With the woman’s approval, Lu Jia obediently agreed and hit send right away.

They crawled through traffic in fits and starts, hitting several jams before reaching the restaurant.

Even in the rain, it was crowded.

The ambiance was serene and elegant, with simple partitions between tables.

They knew each other’s tastes well and ordered light dishes. Soon, the milky crucian carp soup was ladled into bowls; Sheng Shubai passed one to her.

“Thank you, Miss Sheng.”

Her middle finger was wrapped tightly; though she could move it, using chopsticks was awkward, so Lu Jia switched to a spoon for the soup.

For once, they weren’t sitting face-to-face.

Sheng Shubai sat to her right, proactively picking hard-to-reach dishes for her.

Before picking, she even asked if Lu Jia minded her chopsticks or if they should get serving ones. Lu Jia shot her a quiet glance under the woman’s smiling gaze and feigned nonchalance: “…No need for serving chopsticks. Switching back and forth is a hassle.”

Thus, Lu Jia’s chopsticks barely touched the plates before they were piled high again.

Several times, feeling bad, she tried to pick something for Sheng Shubai, only for the woman to pin her wrist: “Just eat yours.”

She couldn’t remember the last time—from age three onward—someone had fed her like this.

On her fourth thank-you, Sheng Shubai finally snapped, stuffing a condensed milk bun straight into her mouth: “Eat quietly.”

Lu Jia mumbled an indistinct “oh” and thereafter ate with her head down.

Sheng Shubai turned to gaze at the girl’s profile, soft light from above making her look all the more obedient and gentle.

She ate whatever was fed, without fuss.

Even when Sheng Shubai teasingly picked a goji berry from the soup and fed it over, Lu Jia merely paused half a second before obediently opening her mouth.

Her heart fluttered involuntarily, but she tamped down the feeling.

During a break in the meal, Sheng Shubai stepped out to take a call.

“A package should arrive in about half a month—pretty big, so remember to check for it.”

Pulling out her chair to sit back down, she mentioned it offhand to Lu Jia.

Lu Jia blinked, not catching on. “What?”

Sheng Shubai said breezily, “Not heartbroken over that carving knife of yours?”

“…”

Unsure how to respond, Lu Jia paused for seconds.

That set of carving knives had been a special gift from Liang Lao during her visit; the craftsmanship was rare.

“Ten sets. Enough for you to drop now?”

She knew the knifemaker too; it was just a favor for a rush custom job, and they’d agreed readily.

If ten wasn’t enough, twenty it was.

She refused to believe Lu Jia would ever again value a knife over her own hand.