Chapter 68: Affection

An Tong and Rong Shen’s bedrooms were located at opposite ends of the second floor, one on the left and one on the right, each utterly separate and undisturbed by the other. Yet, after all, they lived under the same roof, and the chances of running into each other only increased with time.

Breakfast was specially delivered by the household staff; the finesse of the serving cart and the arrangement of the dishes revealed the Rong family’s pursuit of a refined lifestyle.

After half-past seven, An Tong returned from the lakeside, holding an umbrella. An An trotted at her side, occasionally shaking off droplets from its fur.

The morning air, after the rain, was tinged with a slight chill.

An Tong folded her umbrella and, seeing the little creature’s muddy paw prints all over the floor, hurriedly stopped it, “An An, don’t run.”

The puppy whimpered twice, then turned back to look at her from a few steps away, standing still in a manner almost uncannily perceptive.

After changing her shoes, An Tong scooped up the puppy and carried it into the living room, meticulously wiping its little paws with tissues as she muttered softly to herself.

At that moment, Rong Shen was sitting in an open dining chair, his gaze steady as he watched the scene unfold.

The girl was wholly engrossed in caring for An An—after wiping its paws, she wiped its body too, entirely attentive and absorbed, completely unaware that he had been waiting for her to join him for breakfast in the dining room for twenty minutes.

In truth, such neglect was a trifle. Yet Rong Shen, pressing his fingers to his brow, felt a certain absurdity.

The absurdity was this: he actually regretted giving her the Tibetan Mastiff puppy.

He had hoped, at the time, that a companion pet might draw her out of her emotional impasse.

But now...

The attention she lavished on An An far exceeded that given to anyone else around her.

Despite the drizzling weather and her thin clothes, she insisted on taking the puppy outside for a walk.

If not for this clingy little thing...

“Dr. Rong.” An Tong’s gentle, serene voice floated in from the living room, breaking the man’s reverie. “When did you come down?”

She sounded puzzled, for she hadn’t heard a single footstep from the stairs.

“Not long ago.” The man’s expression was composed and elegant, a subtle smile touching his lips. “Come eat once you’re finished.”

An Tong set the puppy down, washed her hands, and entered the dining room.

Rong Shen had already changed into formal attire—in contrast to his casual appearance half an hour before, the shirt and trousers made him look the very picture of refined elegance.

An Tong took her seat, eyes fixed unwaveringly on the Western breakfast before her, not daring to lift her gaze, quietly avoiding the eyes that watched her from across the table.

“What have you done to feel guilty, that you can’t even look at me this early in the morning?”

His voice was tinged with the huskiness unique to early hours, the tone teasing. He picked up two pieces of toast and placed them on her plate.

“Nothing.” An Tong glanced up hurriedly, her eyes meeting his, deep and smiling, for a fleeting second. “I’m just... hungry.”

She had, indeed, been trying to avoid him, never expecting Dr. Rong to notice.

An Tong picked up a slice of bread and took a small bite, but the gaze from across the table did not waver, sending a faint tingling sensation over her scalp.

Everything seemed as usual, and yet there was an indescribable strangeness in the air.

The feeling lingered long after breakfast had ended.

Distracted, An Tong ate very little. Setting down her chopsticks, she looked at Rong Shen and said, “Dr. Rong, I’ll head upstairs first. Please enjoy your meal.”

The man slowly picked up a fried egg. “What are your plans for today?”

Her movement to rise was paused, and she sat back down, shaking her head. “I haven’t decided yet. Maybe I’ll read or go out for a walk.”

“Where would you like to go?”

At the question, An Tong quickly replied, “I’m not sure. I can go by myself; you don’t need to take time out for me.”

Rong Shen’s handsome features softened with a gentle smile. “You’re not familiar with Zhan Zhou. Remember to call Cheng Feng if you go out.”

An Tong was silent.

She felt as if she had been presumptuous.

She nodded that she understood and, in the next second, made a hasty retreat.

...

Back in her room, An Tong slumped onto the edge of the bed, her thoughts a tangled mess, and soon the memory of last night’s little mishap in the garden surfaced.

After a moment, she pulled out her phone, opened a search engine, and typed in a question:

—What should I do if my therapist is too nice?

She had expected to see a variety of witty responses, but the first related question that popped up was:

—What should you do if you fall for your therapist?

With a startled gasp, An Tong tossed her phone aside as if it had burned her.

The word “fall” stared back at her, bold and unmistakable.

A moment later, An Tong took a deep breath, her rational mind whispering firmly: Impossible.

She picked the phone up off the floor, hesitantly clicking on the link.

The top-rated answer read: “The reason you think you’re in love with your therapist is because you rely on them emotionally. They make you feel safe, and help you resolve your problems. But this isn’t love—it’s dependence.”

An Tong read the answer again and again, and the unease that had gripped her began to ease.

So it wasn’t love, but dependence.

She absentmindedly gave the answer a like. She did, in fact, rely on Dr. Rong’s guidance and therapy; this dependence had subtly affected her judgment, but it was understandable.

Relieved to know she harbored no inappropriate intentions toward Dr. Rong, An Tong exhaled in relief.

It was probably last night’s little episode that had sent her mind spiraling, triggering a chain of psychological reactions.

Exiting the page, she patted her head, somewhat disgusted with her own overthinking.

Dr. Rong was simply doing his duty, taking care of her. She really shouldn’t read too much into it or let her imagination run wild.

Having given herself this mental pep talk, An Tong lay back on the bed, legs dangling off the edge, determined that the next time she saw Dr. Rong, she mustn’t let her mind wander again.

...

At ten in the morning, the rain finally eased.

An Tong finished unpacking her luggage and set up her desktop computer. Looking out at the persistent drizzle, she decided to find a book to read in the study.

Wherever Dr. Rong lived, the study was always filled to the brim with books.

She entered the study, found the door open and no one inside, and walked straight in.

An entire wall was lined with bookshelves, every genre imaginable.

She spotted a comprehensive compendium on computer information, and stood on tiptoe to reach for it.

But the book was on the second-highest shelf, and limited by her height, even on tiptoe she couldn’t quite reach.

Frustrated, she considered fetching a chair, but as she turned around, she ran straight into a wall of solid muscle.

An Tong froze.

She really had to admit, making a fool of herself in front of Dr. Rong had become routine.

She hadn’t noticed when Rong Shen had come up behind her—he was utterly silent, not making a sound.

The moment her forehead bumped into his chest, the man had already raised an arm and easily pulled out the compendium for her.

“Dr. Rong, you... aren’t you going to work today?”

An Tong had already retreated to the edge of the bookshelf, her back pressed against the wooden panels, her gaze relatively composed—only her curled fingertips betrayed her fluster.

The man lowered his eyes and handed her the book, his smile gentle. “Did you forget today is the weekend?”

“Oh...” An Tong hugged the book to her chest. “Thank you.”

“Go ahead and read,” Rong Shen said, glancing at the faint red at the corners of her eyes before turning toward his desk. His voice was deep and steady as he reminded her, “Come find me at noon. We’ll have lunch in the front courtyard.”

(End of chapter)