Chapter 33: Soft-hearted
Soon after, Han Qi printed out the report and, before leaving, reminded An Tong to wait a moment.
The treatment room, now suddenly quiet, amplified certain emotions in the silence.
An Tong leaned back in her chair, took a deep breath, and as she lifted her eyes, the autumn sun broke through the clouds and fell upon her face, making her appear even more pale and exhausted.
She still couldn’t remain calm and composed; confronted with those test questions, she instinctively resisted answering.
Although Dr. Han had gently tried to guide her, there was always something missing in his words.
Trying to organize her scattered thoughts, she hadn’t made much progress when the phone in her pocket vibrated.
The “missing person” was calling.
An Tong stared at the screen, momentarily dazed. Without pressing the answer key, she brought the phone to her ear.
The buzzing sound so close startled her, making her shrink her neck. She pressed the answer button again, distractedly offering a clumsy greeting. “Hello.”
On the other end, a man’s deep, mellow voice carried a hint of amusement. “You didn’t save my number?”
Listening to the familiar voice, An Tong replied that she had, and then addressed him with gentle formality, “Dr. Rong.”
A man as perceptive as him, though unable to see the girl’s current state, could sense something was wrong from the brief conversation.
Rong Shen didn’t offer much explanation, instead getting straight to the point. “Are you free this weekend?”
An Tong hesitated, looking out the window. “Are you back?”
“Not done with things in Zhanzhou yet.” The man seemed to be smoking, gently exhaling, then reassuring her, “The assessment is just an objective theory, not the only standard for judgment. Whatever the outcome, it’s only for reference. Don’t overthink it, alright?”
His rising final note was magnetic and gentle, carrying a comforting strength.
Clearly, he knew An Tong had undergone another psychological assessment.
Without waiting for her answer, he continued, “If you’re free this weekend, I’ll have Cheng Feng pick you up. After the session, you can relax a little.”
“Mm…” An Tong lowered her eyelids, pondering for a moment. “Can I get back to you later?”
She wasn’t being difficult; she truly had something to attend to.
The man’s voice was deep as he agreed, “Of course. Whenever you’ve decided, just call me back.”
After the call ended, An Tong put down her phone and sighed, lost in thought.
Outside, Han Qi entered with the supplementary agreement at just the right moment, handing her the document. “Have a look. If everything’s fine, sign and it’ll take effect.”
An Tong opened to the second page, specifically checking the name of the counseling therapist. Confirming it was Rong Jiu, she signed without hesitation.
“The treatment fee…”
Upon hearing this, Han Qi anticipated her concern and answered first, “Still half price. You can discuss the payment method with Dr. Rong.”
An Tong nodded. “Thank you.”
With all formalities complete, she left the health center with the agreement in hand.
Han Qi escorted her to the door, waited until she was out of sight, then called to report, “Master Jiu, Miss An has signed the agreement. I just saw her off.”
“…”
Hearing the man’s inquiry, Han Qi calmly shook his head. “She didn’t say anything, nor did she ask. I suspect the assessment result affected her mood.”
…
After leaving the health center, An Tong wandered the streets.
The sharp, cold wind signaled the arrival of frost, the last solar term of autumn heralding the onset of early winter.
Squinting against the chill, she stood beneath a plane tree and dialed Shi Ye.
“I have something this weekend. Can we reschedule?”
On the other end, Shi Ye pressed his thin lips in displeasure, taking a long pause before replying through gritted teeth, “Yes!”
She acted even more entitled than an ancestor—how could he refuse?
The entire streaming app depended on her to attract traffic and turn a profit; who would turn away money?
An Tong knew canceling at the last minute was impolite, so she explained honestly, “Sorry, I have to see a doctor. It’s important.”
“Sick?” Shi Ye feigned concern. “Serious or minor? I know people at the People’s Hospital, want an introduction?”
“No need, thank you. Goodbye.”
Shi Ye: “…”
She hung up on him again.
Shi Ye, his handsome face cold, cursed and tossed his phone aside.
After half a cigarette, he calmed down and suddenly felt he’d been duped.
What kind of doctor did she need to see on a weekend?
…
Near noon, An Tong entered a small, dingy restaurant at the street corner, sat at a solitary table in the corner, and ordered a plate of pan-fried buns.
The place was small but known for good food at low prices and bustling with customers.
While waiting for her food, An Tong picked up her phone, intending to send Dr. Rong a message on WeChat.
Before she finished composing the message, a call came in unexpectedly, and she accidentally answered it.
Startled, she heard Su Ji’s angry voice through the receiver. “Did you say anything to Su Qian at the magazine?”
“I haven’t been to the magazine recently.” An Tong leaned against the wall, asking calmly, “What’s going on?”
Su Ji took a deep breath, her tone still tense. “Then she must’ve taken it upon herself to dig into your family affairs. She even called my mother—shameless.”
Su Ji and Su Qian, cousins, never got along, and their families rarely had any contact.
Now, to investigate An Tong’s family matters, they were resorting to all means.
Upon hearing this, An Tong frowned, sighing softly, “I ran into her at the seaside a few days ago, with other classmates…”
“That’s what I said.” Su Ji, always quick-tempered, dropped all pretense when angry. “Su Qian is just like her mother—born gossips. They can’t wait to broadcast every tiny thing. I just don’t get it; what do other people’s family affairs have to do with them?”
An Tong gazed quietly into the distance, murmuring, “If I wanted to say something, I’d do it myself…”
Why did bystanders never understand that the truths they gossiped about were the tragedies the person herself never wished to mention in her lifetime?
“If you could, you wouldn’t. Our private matters aren’t theirs to know.” Su Ji’s tone softened. “Don’t worry, my mother blocked her. She won’t get anything out of us. Just wanted to let you know—be careful talking to her. She’s too dumb, always messing up with good intentions.”
After hanging up, An Tong looked at the pan-fried buns the waiter brought, but had lost her appetite. She packed them to go and left the restaurant.
By evening, far away in Zhanzhou, Rong Shen received An Tong’s WeChat message.
AN: Dr. Rong, may I come to Zhanzhou tomorrow?
Outside, dusk settled heavily. The private banquet hall at Hanbai Hotel in Zhanzhou was ablaze with light.
Near the outdoor starlit gallery, several tall, elegant figures were chatting idly.
Su Yiting, a toothpick between his lips, raised his brows teasingly. “Wen Wan’s birthday party is at your club. As the host, isn’t it inappropriate for you not to attend?”
The two men opposite both looked at Rong Shen.
Tonight, he was dressed formally: a tailored black suit, a dark blue pocket square pinned to his chest, the white shirt open at the collar, crisp and noble.
“Nothing inappropriate. I’m busy.” Rong Shen tapped the ash from his cigarette with deliberate calm, his tone distant.
The newly crowned piano prince, Yi Ke, stroked his hand and joined in the banter. “Whenever it’s about Wen Wan or any woman infatuated with you, you always evade, claiming to be busy every time. That excuse really works for you.”
Rong Shen neither confirmed nor denied. Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He took a look, stubbed out his cigarette, and headed back the way he came. “I won’t be returning to Hong Kong anytime soon. Call if you need anything.”
Su Yiting and Yi Ke exchanged glances, then laughed helplessly. “I bet their old lady will be hopping mad again.”
…
An Tong wasn’t surprised when Rong Shen called.
She sat beside An An’s dog bed, her voice faint and drifting as she answered, “Dr. Rong.”
He frowned deeply. “Caught a cold?”
“No.” An Tong cleared her throat. “Did you… see my WeChat?”
Rong Shen replied gravely, “If your throat’s uncomfortable, drink some water. Cheng Feng will pick you up at seven tomorrow morning.”
An Tong instantly closed her eyes, overwhelmed by a surge of complicated emotions.
He hadn’t even asked why, just sent someone to fetch her.
Such appropriate care and tolerance could so easily break down a person’s defenses.
Holding An An in her arms, An Tong rasped out her thanks.
Even before the call ended, in the silence, the man could clearly hear her slightly uneven breathing.
Rong Shen pressed his thin lips together, his Adam’s apple moving as he softened once more. “Hang up now. Go pack what you need to take.”
“Alright. See you tomorrow.”
An Tong put down the phone, pressed her cheek to An An’s small head, and whispered with reddened eyes, “Will I ever get better…”
She didn’t cry; it was just that in the afternoon, she’d been trapped in a half-hour bout of emotional detachment, leaving her mind dazed and her body numb.
The unsatisfactory assessment results and others’ boundless prying had triggered her weariness with the world.
And Dr. Rong was currently her only source of help.
…
As night fell, An Tong moved her stiff limbs. Just as she stood up, the wooden gate outside the courtyard was suddenly knocked, creaking loudly.
“Miss An, Miss An—”
An Tong steadied herself against the windowsill, looking down at An An. “Is someone calling me?”
She wondered if she was hallucinating.
An An yelped as he ran to the entrance, scratching at the door with his little paws, adorably responding as if to confirm.
An Tong hesitated as she walked over. Perhaps she was too slow, for the caller, anxious, raised his voice to announce himself.
“Miss An, it’s me, Cheng Feng.”
An Tong wasted no further time, crossed the yard, opened the door, and asked in surprise, “Why are you here?”
Cheng Feng seemed to have arrived in haste. He steadied himself against the door frame and smiled, “Master Jiu sent me to pick you up. Are you packed yet?”