Chapter 71: Unease

Antong put aside her thoughts and stepped into the dining room. The man's gaze, filled with interest, followed her closely; his fingers rubbed together, and a meaningful smile played at his lips.

It was the first time she appeared before him in a bathrobe—not a remarkable occurrence, perhaps simply because the scent of the dog's den had lingered on her clothes. Still, such a gesture at least suggested she was slowly adjusting to the "cohabitation" life. She no longer fretted over whether her attire was proper; instead, she exuded a relaxed, homely ease.

...

Twenty minutes later, Antong finished her meal and returned to the living room. At that moment, Rong Shen stood in the garden outside the window, exhaling smoke—deep night contrasting starkly with his white shirt. Antong glanced at him a few times, then sat on the sofa to wait.

Today she’d exhibited early signs of emotional dissociation, likely frightening Aunt Ruan. She felt compelled to explain a bit to Dr. Rong. Antong sorted through her thoughts, and only when a shadow fell overhead did she sit up straight and look up at him.

As he passed by, his tall figure paused briefly; his lowered gaze, caught by the light, seemed even more dark and profound. Antong tilted her head upward and offered a faint smile. "Dr. Rong."

Unexpectedly, the man reached out and gently patted her head twice. "Why are you sitting here so aimlessly? If you’re not feeling well, you should go rest early."

His movements and tone so closely resembled those of a benevolent head of household—patient, full of care. Antong felt the warmth through her hair, her heartbeat skipping a beat. The gesture was ordinary, yet there was something unusual about it. Unlike a pat on the shoulder or a soothing touch, the act of patting the head carried an unwarranted intimacy.

She watched him take a seat opposite her, the warm overhead light softening his daytime dignity and composure, lending him an air of lazy elegance. She stared for several seconds before finding her voice. "Today’s incident had nothing to do with Aunt—it was my own issue."

Rong Shen leaned against the sofa, his gaze gentle and subtly guiding. "How did the symptoms occur?"

Antong unconsciously tugged at the hem of her bathrobe, pondering. "The shop assistant mistook us for mother and daughter. I lost control of my emotions—it probably startled Aunt..."

The living room was silent for a while.

Just as Antong thought he wouldn’t speak, a sigh escaped his lips. "It wasn’t enough to frighten her. If anything like this happens again, remember to tell me immediately."

"I didn’t tell you because I thought I could control it."

The outcome had proven she’d succeeded for the first time. Antong believed it was a sign of improvement; she’d managed to curb her negative emotions on her own, without being troubled by them.

After she spoke, Rong Shen raised a brow, half-amused, half-serious. "Have you considered what you’ll do if you lose control and I’m not around?"

Antong blurted out, "But last time I had symptoms, you weren’t there either..."

She only meant to state the facts, but once spoken, her words felt ambiguous, her voice growing faint. Antong blinked, meeting his deep gaze, trying to clarify. "Dr. Rong, I didn’t mean you’re dispensable..."

The more she explained, the worse it sounded. Antong flushed and fell silent, brows furrowed in embarrassment.

In truth, Rong Shen understood her underlying meaning and knew what she truly felt. She simply wanted to handle things herself, unwilling to rely on him or trouble him.

But that wouldn’t do.

He met her gaze calmly, the curve of his lips barely noticeable.

After three seconds, Antong surrendered, compromising first. "Next time... I’ll tell you."

"It’s not to interfere with your freedom," Rong Shen’s deep, mellow voice was gentle. "It’s because when symptoms appear, that’s the best time for intervention."

Antong nodded, half understanding. "I will next time. I wasn’t trying to hide it—I just worried you’d be busy, and it would affect your work..."

Having reached this point, Rong Shen decided to be more candid. He traced his brow lightly with a fingertip, his tone composed. "In Zhanzhou, you’re my only patient, so you don’t need to worry too much."

Antong couldn’t hide her surprise. "Only me?"

"Yes, only you."

No wonder...

Suddenly, Antong recalled that when he said he was leaving, he’d asked whether she wanted to change therapists. It turned out he’d handed over the rest of his patients. Only she remained.

Antong’s lips curved into a bright smile, quickly pressed back for fear Dr. Rong would notice her secret delight and lack of composure. The feeling of being singled out made her heart overflow with joy.

She hurriedly stood. "Then, good night. I’m going to sleep."

But as she turned away, her lips quirked upwards, radiating genuine happiness.

Just as she stepped onto the stairs, the man’s low voice called out, "An’an."

"Yes?" Antong held the railing, puzzled as she looked back.

She wasn’t sure if Dr. Rong was calling her or... the pet An’an.

In the living room, he glanced sideways, his deep eyes saturated with color. "Be good—don’t let An’an into your room tonight."

Antong’s gaze flickered; she said she understood and quickly ascended the stairs.

Be good...

Those words sounded oddly intimate.

Antong, still lost in her thoughts, entered the bedroom. She suddenly glimpsed the little dog bed at the foot of the bed and realized—just a few days ago, Dr. Rong had told her not to let An’an sleep in the bedroom, as it would affect her rest. But she’d always paid lip service, disregarding the advice.

His "be good" must be emphasizing this point.

Perhaps his insistence finally worked: within three minutes, Antong carried An’an’s dog bed downstairs and retrieved her jacket from the communal bathroom.

Downstairs, Rong Shen lit another cigarette, watching the flickering flame with a silent smile.

Lately, his craving for cigarettes had grown intense. He seemed addicted, unable to quit.

That night, Antong lay in bed, sleepless. She meant to read, but her mind wandered, unable to focus.

—Only me?

—Yes, only you.

These two sentences echoed in her ears, alluring and enchanting. Antong hid half her face beneath the quilt, savoring the impact of those words. It was like palpitations and breathlessness—a feeling she couldn’t describe and had never experienced before.

Lost in her thoughts, she drifted off to sleep.

...

The next morning, Antong came downstairs to find Dr. Rong in the living room, on the phone. It was not yet eight; he hadn’t left the house.

Her steps slowed, and she glanced at his composed, elegant demeanor and sharply defined profile. The palpitations and breathlessness returned.

She tried to steady her breathing, but the feeling only intensified.

Oh no—was something wrong with her heart?

In a daze, Antong wandered into the dining room, sipping air in small gulps.

As the man entered, he saw her with fists pressed to the table, pursed lips exhaling repeatedly. He frowned and asked, "Are you feeling unwell?"

(End of chapter)