Chapter 76 Part 1

Wen Zenian had gone to pay the fees for Meng Ning.

She took the freshly printed prescription slip from the doctor. The paper, just spat out by the printer, still carried a faint warmth. With her slender waist and long legs, she cut an imposing figure in those nearly ten-centimeter heels. It wasn’t just Meng Ning—even Du Shuwen, if she wasn’t careful walking beside her, ended up looking like her assistant.

Meng Ning hurried after her and said softly, “I can handle it myself.”

She had finally paid off what she owed Wen Zenian. How could she rack up another debt now?

Without turning around, Wen Zenian said, “Work injury.”

“Hmm?”

Wen Zenian stopped, glanced back over her shoulder, her expression as impatient as ever. “What I’m saying is, you had an allergic reaction during a client meeting. That counts as a work injury.”

“Oh.”

Meng Ning figured Wen Zenian must think it was pretty unlucky. After all, her very first meeting had been derailed by an employee allergy.

She didn’t dare bother her anymore. Instead, Meng Ning stopped to find a place to sit and wait. But then Wen Zenian glanced at her again. “If you really want to pay me back, fine. I’ll take it personally. Just send me a period mark over WeChat.”

Well now, Meng Ning thought. She could even tease her calmly like that. Wen Zenian really was magnanimous, unlike her—always overthinking everything.

She curved her lips into a smile at Wen Zenian.

Wen Zenian strode ahead briskly, her heels clicking away.

When Wen Zenian returned after paying, she first handed the receipt to the injection room. Meng Ning had already found a seat in the infusion area and settled in to wait.

From afar, Wen Zenian spotted her. Meng Ning seemed lost in a daze, one elbow propped on the armrest, unconsciously pinching at her fingertips over and over.

Who knew what she was thinking about? Her profile looked so pale.

Wen Zenian looked away.

Truth be told, her earlier impatience hadn’t been entirely aimed at Meng Ning.

She was just wondering why everyone seemed to be allergic to something these days. Meng Ning, Chen Luzi… These kids, raised with such care, even had delicate bodies that reacted to everything.

Not like her. She had clawed her way up through a bed of thorns. Keeping her body alive amid constant battles was victory enough. She didn’t have the luxury of something as frivolous as allergies.

Coming to the hospital with them for something like this felt like a reminder that her own life had started without a shred of love.

She knew that line of thinking was a bit unreasonable. Pulling herself together, she asked, “How long until the allergen test results come out?”

“Two to three days.”

It suddenly struck Wen Zenian: What if the report came back showing no trace of Meng Ning’s allergen in tonight’s ingredients?

What if the allergic reaction was just a psychological trigger spreading to her neck?

Meng Ning wasn’t allergic to any food. Wen Zenian was her allergen.

A faint, self-mocking smile tugged at Wen Zenian’s lips. She dismissed the absurd notion.

Over on Meng Ning’s side, a nurse approached with an injection tray.

After confirming the patient’s identity, she disinfected the site and administered the shot.

Meng Ning wasn’t particularly afraid of needles. She’d been frail as a child, and Shi Yang had dragged her to the hospital plenty of times. She’d gotten used to shots and such. With Shi Yang’s careful nurturing, she’d grown stronger during puberty.

Meng Ning laid her hand flat on the armrest, feeling the cool swipe of iodine as it circled her skin. From the corner of her eye, she glanced down the distant corridor. Wen Zenian stood there, speaking quietly on the phone.

Wen Zenian’s posture was always so poised and elegant. She never shoved her hands in her pockets or anything casual like that—just let them hang properly at her sides. Her shoulders and back formed a straight line, accentuating the lovely dip at the small of her back. Her neck curved like a swan’s, shadows and light carving out the elegant lines of her profile, her nose bridge so perfectly sculpted it could serve as a model for cosmetic surgery.

She finished her call and turned to glance toward Meng Ning.

The nurse had already finished and left. Meng Ning sat alone. Wen Zenian didn’t come over. Instead, she sat down on a row of waiting chairs in the corridor and bent her head to type on her phone.

Meng Ning fished her own phone out of her pocket with her other hand, picking at the cracked screen protector with her nail.

Part of her wanted to send Wen Zenian a WeChat message: If you’re really that busy, just go ahead. Get some rest after work. She could take a cab home after the IV—no big deal.

But then, Wen Zenian had said it was a work injury. What if something happened while she was left alone? Who would take responsibility? And repeating that would sound like she was trying to shoo her away.

Wen Zenian had been so straightforward with her. Why act so petty?

Meng Ning shoved the phone back in her pocket and tilted her head up to watch the hanging TV in the infusion area.

It was a calm, quiet night. Only a handful of patients dotted the infusion area. The TV up front droned late-night news at low volume, its muffled voices underscoring the stillness.

This was nothing like those scenes in novels where someone keeps vigil at an ex’s bedside—no sitting together, no asking if she wanted water or snacks, no buying a hand warmer to get her blood flowing.

Wen Zenian stayed seated on the waiting chairs at the far end of the corridor the whole time, occasionally taking calls or sending messages. Once she wrapped up a batch of work, she simply held her phone and turned to gaze out the window.

She never looked toward the infusion area, which made it easier for Meng Ning to steal glances at her.

What was she looking at out there?

Tree shadows? The dark night? A waning moon? Or just the deep hush of autumn?

What was going through her head? Her partial profile revealed so little emotion, offering no clues.

As the medicine took effect, Meng Ning started to feel drowsy.

The female anchor’s report on international affairs faded into steady white noise. Meng Ning’s eyes gradually drifted shut.

When she opened them again, the night seemed deeper at first. Then she realized it wasn’t the time—it was Wen Zenian’s perfumed silhouette hovering over her, chasing away the hospital’s sterile disinfectant smell.

Wen Zenian was slightly bent at the waist, gently brushing the back of her own hand against Meng Ning’s.

Meng Ning realized she had come to check if her hand was cold after so long on the IV.

She wasn’t cold, actually. If anything, Wen Zenian’s hand, clad in that thin suit fabric, felt cooler than hers.

Seeing her awake, Wen Zenian straightened up, pressed her lips together briefly, and offered no explanation—not even a simple “I was checking if your hand was cold.” She looked like she was about to head back to the waiting chairs at the other end of the corridor, but then thought better of it.

Instead, she sat down in the infusion chair opposite Meng Ning.

Out came the phone again, back to work.

Meng Ning thought to herself: The battery on the latest model was impressive. It still had juice after all this time keeping her company during the IV.

But Wen Zenian was sitting too close now. Even her train of racing thoughts couldn’t ease the tension.

Well, “tension” wasn’t quite right.

It was more like a thin membrane had descended over her, making the air feel thinner, her breaths a touch heavier than usual. Some senses sharpened, too—the faint whiff of Wen Zenian’s perfume at the edge of her nose, a slight tingle in her fingertips. Who knew if that was from the IV or not.

Her gaze drifted downward to Wen Zenian’s high heels.

Seriously, wearing open-backed shoes in autumn.

Meng Ning realized she’d been wrong about that.

Wen Zenian in fall? No chunky knit sweaters for her. Her style was consistent year-round: suit and slacks with ankle-baring heels, impervious to summer heat or winter chill.

After all, the five-star hotel ran a perfect climate control system. She spent nearly twenty-four hours a day there, the rest in luxury cars.

She paid no mind to the changing seasons, the flow of time. It couldn’t touch her.

Coming to the hospital with Meng Ning felt like a brief descent into the mortal world.

Wen Zenian paused her typing, staring at something on her phone screen. Seizing the moment, Meng Ning asked softly, “Are you cold?”

The hand cradling the phone hesitated for two seconds before she replied calmly, “No.” And with that, she resumed typing.

Meng Ning let out a slow breath.

Wen Zenian kept her eyes glued to her phone, occasionally lifting her gaze to check Meng Ning’s IV bag. When it was nearly done, she called over the nurse to remove the needle.

She didn’t follow the nurse over herself. She just stood in the corridor, head down, typing away.

It wasn’t until Meng Ning walked up to her that she pocketed the phone and glanced at the bandage on the back of Meng Ning’s hand. “Let’s go.”

“Okay.”

They made their way to the parking lot, where Wen Zenian unlocked the Maybach.

Meng Ning climbed into the passenger seat on her own. Wen Zenian pulled out of the hospital.

The night was deep now, traffic thinning out, the world falling quiet. Meng Ning gazed out the window. A dry leaf drifted slowly from a branch, caught in the slanting glow of a streetlamp that turned it into a golden parachute. It swayed and spun lazily in the air before settling gently to the ground.

The silence was so profound that Meng Ning could almost hear the faint “plop” as it landed.

Sigh. Why didn’t Wen Zenian ever play music or the radio? It was draining for an introvert like her.

Meng Ning subtly turned her neck, glancing at Wen Zenian from the corner of her eye.

A touch of weariness only amplified her beauty without restraint.

Meng Ning’s lips parted slightly. Out of politeness, after Wen Zenian had taken time out of her busy schedule to accompany her to the hospital, she really ought to say something like “Thanks for your hard work tonight.”

But considering their history, it felt too deliberate.

What a dilemma.

She mulled it over the whole drive until Wen Zenian pulled into the underground parking garage at Xihua Hotel. As Meng Ning unbuckled her seatbelt, Wen Zenian pushed open her door and stepped out.

Seeing Meng Ning get out too, Wen Zenian locked the car and asked, “Straight back to the dorm?”

Meng Ning nodded, and Wen Zenian gave a slight dip of her chin.

Meng Ning had gotten some sleep, so the signs of staying up late showed more clearly on Wen Zenian’s face.

“Thanks for your hard work,” she finally said. “Get some good rest. Good night.”

She flashed Wen Zenian another smile.

Wen Zenian glanced down at her from on high, expression turning impatient again without a word. Her heels clicked as she headed toward the hotel’s main building.

The next day, Wen Zenian was nearly driven mad by Du Shuwen.

While waiting for a batch of data verification, Du Shuwen sidled up slyly. “Did you fall for that little beauty or what?”

Wen Zenian stared at her files and said nothing.

“President Wen, President Wen.” Du Shuwen dragged out the end of her words into a sing-song wave. “I’m talking to you.”

Wen Zenian asked, “Why do you keep calling her ‘little beauty’? Does she look that young?”