Chapter 48: How to Make Me Happy

They maintained this posture all the way out to the door. Normally, she, who had always occupied a position of power, hated being on the receiving end like this. But right now, being pulled along by Zhou Jianghao felt strangely intriguing.

She held back a laugh as she watched the little bun atop the girl’s head bobbing along with their footsteps. The hesitation born from her own pride suddenly melted away. Chasing after such a cute and beautiful girl was hardly a loss.

With that, she tugged the other woman to a halt.

“Sorry.” Only then did Zhou Jianghao realize she was still holding Tan Qingya’s hand. She quickly let go and saw the obvious red marks on Tan Qingya’s wrist. Her face burned with embarrassment. “I just…”

“It’s fine,” Tan Qingya interrupted her. There was a subtle darkness in her eyes as she reached up to pat Zhou Jianghao’s little bun. In a calm voice, she said, “Your shift is about to start. I’ll visit your office another time.”

Bringing a family member to work could invite criticism, and she didn’t want to put Zhou Jianghao in an awkward spot.

“Okay.” Zhou Jianghao paused at her words, relief washing over her even as a faint sense of loss crept in. She clenched her fist, forcing the feeling down.

“If anyone asks about your hair,” Tan Qingya went on, her eyes twinkling with amusement, “just tell them your wife tied it for you.”

The word “wife” brought a fresh blush to Zhou Jianghao’s cheeks.

Zhou Jianghao watched Tan Qingya leave, lingering in place for a moment before turning toward her work floor.

She had just reached the elevator when someone came up beside her, slightly out of breath but holding a bag of breakfast steady. The bag carried the tangy scent of vinegar as it was offered to her. “Jianghao, have some breakfast!”

Zhou Jianghao froze.

Back in college, she’d skipped breakfast for ages to save money, thinking she’d hidden it well. But someone who cared had noticed and started secretly sending her food.

She stared at the bag of dumplings for a few seconds before looking up, a mix of surprise and certainty in her voice. “Back in college, it was you who had people bring me breakfast.”

A smile spread across Liu Zhiyi’s face. “You figured it out, huh?”

With that, she pressed a hand to the elevator door and stepped aside to let Zhou Jianghao enter first. The elevator was empty save for the two of them, making it easier to talk freely. Liu Zhiyi turned to her. “Jianghao, you’re too skinny.”

She pushed the bag of dumplings closer. “I heard you were looking after your mom last night—you probably skipped breakfast. This is from your favorite place.”

Zhou Jianghao didn’t reach for it. Her gaze settled on her senior.

“Thanks,” she said, meeting the other woman’s eyes. “But I’ve already eaten.”

She paused, remembering Tan Qingya’s parting words, and a smile touched her lips. “My wife made me some porridge.”

Liu Zhiyi went rigid, her outstretched hand suddenly awkward.

She swallowed her bitterness, pulling her hand back while changing the subject. Her eyes landed on Zhou Jianghao’s drastically different hairstyle, and she forced another smile. “Jianghao, your hair looks great today. That hair tie is cute too. I’ve been meaning to ask—where’d you get it?”

She had an idea. No matter what Zhou Jianghao said, she could pretend she didn’t know the place and suggest they go shopping together after work.

But her plan fell flat.

“My wife tied it for me,” Zhou Jianghao said honestly. “We bought the hair tie on the way home a few days ago. I didn’t really notice the store.”

Liu Zhiyi’s expression stiffened.

Then, remembering the hair tie she’d borrowed a few days back, Zhou Jianghao added apologetically, “Sorry about that hair tie you borrowed from me—it’s gone. How much was it? I can send you the money on WeChat.”

“Jianghao, are you really going to make me settle accounts over something this small?” Liu Zhiyi put on a hurt look.

“Along with those college breakfasts,” Zhou Jianghao replied. She missed the underlying meaning entirely and explained earnestly, “You sent me breakfast for so long. That must have cost a lot. It’s not a small thing.”

“…”

Ding. The elevator reached their floor.

Liu Zhiyi let out a breath of relief and hurried out. “I’ve got something to do—gotta run. Talk later. Bye.”

Zhou Jianghao watched her dash toward the office, pursing her lips. Bye? Weren’t they working in the same place?

Clearly, the other woman had no intention of settling that account.

Zhou Jianghao spaced out for a moment.

The breakfast deliveries had started her freshman year. For a while, a bag of breakfast with a sticky note would appear outside her dorm room door every day.

The note had her class and name on it, hung right on her door—obviously meant for her. No one else dared touch it.

She’d asked around, but no one knew who was sending it. If she didn’t eat it, it’d just go to waste.

She couldn’t bear to let it spoil, so she ate it a few times. That only encouraged the sender.

After some thought, she tallied up the cost of what she’d eaten, left a note and a small bag of money at her door to say thanks and ask them to stop.

It didn’t work.

The note vanished, but the money stayed. Gradually, the deliveries expanded to lunch takeout.

The first time the delivery guy called, she was completely baffled. It was sweet and sour fish—tangy and sweet, perfectly matching her tastes.

Someone she knew.

She questioned everyone she could think of, but got nothing. Back then, she’d never suspected her senior, whom she’d barely met a handful of times.

Eventually, she’d steeled herself and ignored everything that arrived. Only then did the deliveries stop.

How could it have been Doctor Liu?

Zhou Jianghao opened the door and saw Liu Zhiyi pretending to be busy. She sank into thought.

There was no such thing as free kindness in the world. What did Liu Zhiyi want from her?

The morning passed in a blur of busyness, and with Liu Zhiyi deliberately dodging her, Zhou Jianghao never got a chance to bring it up.

Knock knock knock.

As noon approached and her shift neared its end, a knock sounded at the door—despite there being no appointment.

Zhou Jianghao turned, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

Liu Zhiyi looked up from across the room.

“Brought you lunch,” Tan Qingya said with a smile. She glanced at the other woman in the room. “Mind if I come in?”

It sounded like a question.

But her tone was far too assured.

She stepped inside. This was her first direct confrontation with Doctor Liu, confirming what she’d suspected last time.

Doctor Liu was definitely hostile toward her.

“Little Hao, who’s this?”

Tan Qingya asked, though she knew full well.

There was nothing between her and Doctor Liu, but knowing the woman had been the one sending her breakfast in college suddenly made her feel a twinge of guilt in Tan Qingya’s presence. She replied stiffly, “My colleague, Doctor Liu.”

Then, to Liu Zhiyi: “Doctor Liu, this is my wife.”

Liu Zhiyi looked over.

The woman before her had an outstanding presence. She hadn’t said or done a thing—just stood there—and yet she exuded an oppressive aura.

The pressure of someone in command.

People like her shouldn’t belong in their world, but there she was with Zhou Jianghao. Both of them were strikingly attractive, and together, they looked unexpectedly harmonious.

Especially with the matching rings on their fingers.

Liu Zhiyi hastily looked away, barely daring to meet her eyes. She stood awkwardly. “Hello. You two chat. I’ve got something urgent—gotta go.”

With that, she fled.

The room fell silent, leaving just Zhou Jianghao and Tan Qingya.

Tan Qingya calmly withdrew her gaze and turned leisurely to Zhou Jianghao. “Cafeteria?”

Zhou Jianghao hesitated, which was rare for her.

They should go to the cafeteria—it allowed family members—but that would probably draw a lot of attention.

“Is this really that tough a question?” Seeing her silence stretch on, Tan Qingya made the call for her. “Shall we check out the cafeteria?”

“Okay.” Zhou Jianghao let out a quiet breath of relief and reached for the lunchbox. “I’ll carry it.”

“Doctor Zhou’s hands are for work, not for lugging things around willy-nilly,” Tan Qingya said. She captured Zhou Jianghao’s hand, sliding down her slender wrist until their fingers intertwined. With a smile, she added, “Of course, they can also hold your wife’s hand.”

She’d expected that to make Zhou Jianghao blush, but instead, the other woman looked up eagerly and asked, “Can’t they make you happy in bed either?”

Tan Qingya: ???

What did she mean, “make her happy”?!

She blinked, pulled her hand free, and poked Zhou Jianghao’s hand innocently. “Baby, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Before Zhou Jianghao could question if she’d flustered her, Tan Qingya added deadpan, “Tonight, you can explain it to me properly—exactly how this hand of yours makes me happy.”

Zhou Jianghao: “…”

“Cat got your tongue, Little Doctor Zhou?” Tan Qingya teased, hooking their fingers together and gently shaking her pinky. “No answer means you agree.”

“I’m hungry,” Zhou Jianghao said. She knew it was a clumsy pivot, but the words had slipped out anyway. She gazed pleadingly at Tan Qingya, ready to throw in the towel.

“Fine, we can’t have our Doctor Zhou going hungry.” Tan Qingya chuckled lightly and let her off the hook.

The weather was growing cooler, and Tan Qingya was still wearing that beige trench coat of hers. It was starting to feel a bit thin now.

The thought had just occurred to Zhou Jianghao when she heard Tan Qingya turn her head and sneeze.

“Have you caught a cold?” Zhou Jianghao frowned instantly.

Tan Qingya hummed. “Maybe.”

Fooling around in the bathroom did carry some risks, after all. Over the past few days, she’d been dealing with mild cold symptoms—nothing serious, just the occasional wave of dizziness and a few sneezes, though it had never fully flared up.

Little Doctor Zhou, however, took it seriously. She came to an abrupt halt and turned to her. “What do you mean, ‘maybe’?”

Her tone had deepened, carrying the unmistakable authority of a doctor.

Thus, Tan Qingya—the would-be patient—obediently replied, “Just some minor symptoms. It’s not serious. My health has always been good; I can ignore little things like this.”

“Don’t hide your illness out of fear of treatment,” Zhou Jianghao said sternly, her expression turning grave. “People who rarely fall ill tend to suffer far worse when they finally do.”

“Understood, Doctor Zhou.” Tan Qingya pulled a helpless face. “Once you’re done eating, I’ll head out and buy some medicine right away, all right?”

She truly felt helpless about it.

In the past, who would have dared to manage her affairs like this?

Only Zhou Jianghao had the guts to speak to her that way.

But that was fine. It was a privilege Tan Qingya herself had granted her.

Draping an arm around Zhou Jianghao’s shoulders, she coaxed, “Come on, pick up the pace, or the food’s going to get cold.”