As autumn deepened in A City, the Mid-Autumn Festival finally arrived, along with the full moon, fashionably late.
The hospital’s main entrance seemed like a barrier spell. The festive atmosphere outside didn’t seep into Jihua at all. If anything, there were more patients than usual, and the exhausted medical staff hurried back and forth without pause.
Jiang Xu had just come out of the operating room when he ran into Shen Fangyu in the changing room, who was taking off his surgical attire.
“Quick, quick, quick,” Shen Fangyu urged, holding his phone and checking the time. “I asked Li Sheng to wait in the auditorium. He said the programs before ours were all shorter than expected, so we need to get there fast.”
“Why did it move up?” Jiang Xu had calculated the timing carefully, no matter what, he should have arrived at least an hour before their scheduled performance.
“You think everyone’s as serious as you? That they’d perform exactly as long as they said they would?”
The administrative office had required each program to last no less than five minutes. Clearly, these busy doctors and nurses had no intention of strictly following the rule. Most of them simply put on a quick performance and hurried off.
“I’ll go change.” Jiang Xu took his regular clothes out of the locker and was about to head into one of the cubicles in the changing room.
“You can just change here,” Shen Fangyu said. “There’s no one around.”
Even if there were, the operating room changing rooms at Jihua were separated by gender, so it wouldn’t have been a big deal.
Jiang Xu’s hand paused. “Aren’t you a person?”
“…” Shen Fangyu obediently turned his back.
After a brief silence, he heard the faint rustling of clothes behind him. Suddenly, he felt an inexplicable restlessness in his chest.
At first, he hadn’t thought much of it. But Jiang Xu’s insistence on having him turn away unexpectedly stirred a faint, unbidden flutter of imagination. The subtle emotion seemed to hover in the air, intangible and difficult to grasp.
Fortunately, Jiang Xu was quick. Before Shen Fangyu’s inexplicable feelings could ferment any further, Jiang Xu tapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”
The two of them rushed from the changing room toward the auditorium. They were walking so fast that their coats caught the wind. Jiang Xu had originally intended to run, but Shen Fangyu suddenly grabbed him.
Only then did it occur to Jiang Xu that he wasn’t in a position to be running around so freely anymore.
As the pregnancy progressed, the early symptoms had gradually faded, appearing less and less frequently. With all the nutritional supplements, vitamins, and calcium tablets he was taking, the negative side effects of pregnancy had become minimal.
Jiang Xu knew that more obvious discomfort would probably return in about two months. For now, this period was more or less the most comfortable stage of the pregnancy.
When work piled up, he would sometimes even forget about the baby’s existence and overlook small details in daily life. Unexpectedly, Shen Fangyu, the one who wasn’t pregnant, remembered it all clearly.
They hurried backstage just in time. Li Sheng immediately waved at them. “Brother Shen, Dr. Jiang, you’re finally here!”
He looked like an ant on a hot pan that had just spotted its savior, barely daring to breathe as he rushed out, “You’re up next! Director Cui just came backstage to check if you were here. I told her you hadn’t arrived yet. She said if you still weren’t here when it was time, I’d have to go on instead. I don’t even know how!”
Jiang Xu and Shen Fangyu exchanged a glance, then both looked at Li Sheng and said in unison, “Sorry we came too early.”
Li Sheng: “……”
Watching his comrades betray him so coldly, Li Sheng shook his head in anguish. The host who had just finished introducing the previous act came down and hurriedly urged them, “Why are you still chatting? Get up there!”
Before Jiang Xu could react, a microphone was shoved into his hand. The sound system, as if racing to be reborn, immediately blasted the prelude of The Legend of the White Snake’s theme song, “Crossing Love”.
The curtain lifted. The stage lights flared brightly. Jiang Xu blinked, momentarily dazzled, his heartbeat suddenly quickening.
The last time he had performed on stage was when he was five years old, wearing a red bellyband, cheeks painted red, doing one somersault after another at a kindergarten talent show.
He hadn’t learned to dance at all. It was the kindergarten teacher who insisted that such a good-looking child should give it a try. Unexpectedly, young Jiang Xu had shown remarkable talent. After just a couple days of practice, he had mastered somersaults and was promptly pushed onto the stage.
The incident might not have left much of an impression on Jiang Xu himself, but like every proud pair of parents, his mother and father had loved to boast about their son’s childhood glory. They even kept the performance video on their phone, always pulling it out during family gatherings to show relatives and friends.
It wasn’t until Jiang Xu was fifteen that he learned from a cousin that his “brilliant image” had long circulated among the entire extended family. At the height of his teenage angst, the embarrassment had cost him a whole night of sleep. Later, when his six-year-old cousin waved a red bellyband and demanded that he dress up as Nezha for her, he had nearly wished himself out of existence.
Because of that experience, Jiang Xu had always been resistant to being on stage. Even the night he impulsively agreed to Shen Fangyu’s proposal, he hadn’t slept well.
This was his first time participating in Jihua’s Mid-Autumn Gala. The rushed schedule gave him no time to mentally prepare before he was unexpectedly pushed onto the stage. The PTSD from his teenage years made him instinctively want to step back, but the spotlight had already found him.
With no way to retreat, Jiang Xu froze for a moment and instinctively searched for Shen Fangyu beside him.
Before his gaze could find him, however, a hand suddenly settled on his waist, warm, firm, steady.
Amid thunderous applause from the audience, Shen Fangyu guided him toward the center of the stage. Just as they reached the middle, Shen Fangyu lifted his microphone and began to sing the opening line in time with the melody.
He kept his eyes on Jiang Xu as he sang, a smile of encouragement playing at the corners of his brows and eyes. By the time the four winding, lingering “ah—” notes ended, Jiang Xu’s heart had unexpectedly calmed.
“The West Lake scenery in the third month of spring, oh… spring rain like wine, willows like mist…”
Shen Fangyu’s voice wasn’t as full and robust as the original singer’s. It was lower, more languid. He wasn’t singing off-key on purpose like he did at home just to annoy Jiang Xu. When he sang seriously, Jiang Xu realized that Shen Fangyu was actually quite good, far beyond amateur KTV level. It sounded as though he had received some musical training.
Jiang Xu took a deep breath, lifted the microphone to his lips, and looked at him as he sang, “Fated lovers meet even if separated by a thousand miles…”
A faint smile curved Shen Fangyu’s lips as he suddenly took Jiang Xu’s hand without warning. “Without fate, even face to face, their hands are hard to join…”
Jiang Xu startled, not having time to pull away before Shen Fangyu signaled with his eyes for him to continue.
He opened his mouth almost instinctively. “Ten years of cultivation to share a boat…”
Shen Fangyu caught his line smoothly. “A hundred years of cultivation to share a pillow…”
Jiang Xu: “If a thousand years of destiny are granted…”
Shen Fangyu: “White heads and one heart before our eyes…”
“If a thousand years of destiny are granted…”
Shen Fangyu sang to him with a smile, “White heads and one heart before our eyes…”
Under the stage lights, his eyes shimmered brilliantly, as if they carried warmth. The gaze he laid gently upon Jiang Xu’s face made Jiang Xu’s chest grow hot.
Peach blossom eyes often gave the illusion of deep affection. If the original singer, Teacher Zuo, had sounded like a bold and carefree boatman, then Shen Fangyu’s voice resembled a refined and gentle Xu Xian, clear breeze and bright moon, smiling faintly by the Broken Bridge of West Lake in March, amid misty pavilions, repeating vows of unwavering love again and again.
Jiang Xu no longer remembered the detailed plot of The Legend of the White Snake. Over time, and as children grew up, this classic theme song had become something of an old-fashioned, slightly “brainwashing” tune associated with grandparents’ generation. Almost everyone could hum a line or two, yet few would treat it as sacred, or as a confession song.
But today, Jiang Xu suddenly found it deeply tender, more tender than many modern love songs filled with dramatic declarations of life-and-death devotion.
Not a single word of “love” was sung, yet it felt like sweet mountain spring water, flowing gently and softly through every limb and bone, as if even his bones were being sung into warmth.
And beneath the spotlight, Shen Fangyu, wearing a simple gray-white long-sleeved shirt, the irregular gray ribbon at his cuff swaying with the movement of his wrist, sang with a smiling expression that felt almost like a vow made to him.
“Lalala… lalala…”
Holding Jiang Xu’s hand aloft, Shen Fangyu swayed it gently from side to side in time with the melody. After a while, during a brief pause to breathe, he lowered the microphone slightly and whispered, “Look at the audience.”
Only then did Jiang Xu suddenly realize he had been distracted. He hurriedly turned his head toward the seats.
To his surprise, the audience was about half full this year, far more than in previous years. Perhaps the administrative office had put real effort into promoting the event. Hearing the audience softly singing along with the “lalala” lines, Jiang Xu belatedly realized that since stepping onto the stage, he hadn’t looked at the audience even once.
His mind felt a little dazed.
He didn’t know whether it was stage fright, or something else entirely.
Onstage at Jihua’s Mid-Autumn Gala, the two doctors who were known for not getting along, Dr. Shen and Dr. Jiang, stood hand in hand, arms raised, swaying gently with the slow music. President Cao nodded in satisfaction and said to Vice President Cui beside him, “I’ve always heard that the two young men in your department don’t get along. But looking at them now, don’t they seem quite close?”
Vice President Cui smiled. “They’re young. What conflict can’t be resolved?”
“Xuanxuan,” President Cao patted his daughter, who was watching the show, and pointed at the two doctors on stage. “These two are the ones I told you about, the youngest associate chief physicians in Obstetrics and Gynecology. Graduated from A Medical University. Outstanding since their student days. Want to get to know them? Learn something from them?”
“Not just Obstetrics and Gynecology,” Vice President Cui chimed in enthusiastically, promoting her own protégés. “President Cao, think about it. In the past decade, has our university produced any young talents more exceptional than these two?”
“Your Aunt Cui is right,” President Cao said to Cao Xuan. “Their reputations, almost every department head at Jihua knows their story. So young, yet already able to stand on their own and take on major responsibilities. You should really learn from them.”
It was obvious that President Cao and Vice President Cui had already discussed this beforehand, smoothly steering the conversation toward its real purpose.
“So? Interested in meeting them?” President Cao asked. “Your father can swallow his pride and invite them to dinner. It’ll be good for you to broaden your horizons. You’re not a little girl anymore, yet you’re out all day and never at home. Who knows what you’re busy with.”
Cao Xuan had always been independent. When she was younger, President Cao had wanted her to study medicine and inherit his career. She had refused outright and chosen sociology instead.
After she finally graduated, President Cao had planned to arrange a comfortable nine-to-five position for her at Jihua. She rejected that too and left for graduate school abroad without hesitation.
Now that she had finally returned, President Cao only wanted her to settle down, get married, and have children, so he could enjoy the pleasure of playing with grandchildren like Vice President Cui. But Cao Xuan spent her days talking about equality movements and singlehood. Not only did she refuse to have children, she wouldn’t even date.
Cao Xuan smiled. “Dad, stop pretending this is about learning.” She saw through the matchmaking scheme immediately. “You’re just trying to set me up on a blind date.”
She looked at the two promising young doctors on stage. Capable and handsome, eye-catching the moment they appeared.
No makeup, no elaborate styling. Just simple clothes and natural black hair, clean, bright, and youthful. Even Cao Xuan, who had firmly decided not to fall in love or marry, felt her heart stir for a second.
They were indeed excellent blind date candidates. If reincarnation were real, her father would probably wish these two were his biological sons.
But the reason Cao Xuan had chosen not to marry stemmed from her childhood. President Cao had always claimed to be busy with work, neglecting her and her mother. Back then, Vice President Cui had lived next door. She was also a doctor, yet she always found time, no matter how busy, to be with her child.
That was when Cao Xuan realized that balancing career and family wasn’t strictly about profession. It depended on a person’s sense of responsibility. With her father as a cautionary example, she had never had a favorable impression of male doctors.
Seeing his intentions exposed, President Cao didn’t feel embarrassed. He smiled. “Then is there one you like?”
Cao Xuan was about to refuse when her best friend tugged at her sleeve. Her friend’s surname was Yang, Yang Rui, and they had been close for years. Since President Cao had insisted that Cao Xuan attend the Mid-Autumn Gala, she had brought Yang Rui along for company.
“What is it?” Cao Xuan asked quietly.
Yang Rui glanced at the stage and leaned close to whisper, “The doctor on the left, I’d like to meet him.”
Cao Xuan had no intention of marrying herself, but she genuinely wanted her friends to find happiness. Especially Yang Rui, who had dated her boyfriend for years and had nearly reached the point of marriage. Cao Xuan had even promised to be her bridesmaid, only to discover he was a scumbag. Seeing her friend finally emerge from heartbreak and wanting to meet new people, Cao Xuan was naturally willing to help.
So she pointed at the doctor on the left and asked her father, “What’s his name?”
President Cao and Vice President Cui exchanged a glance. The two middle-aged administrators were visibly pleased by Cao Xuan’s change in attitude.
“Jiang Xu,” President Cao said. “He’s quieter, but he’s sincere. A good young man.”
When Jiang Xu stepped off the stage, his head was still buzzing. Li Sheng came up to them immediately and noticed their clasped hands.
“Alright, alright. You’re offstage now, no need to keep holding hands,” he joked.
Jiang Xu suddenly realized and quickly pulled his hand away from Shen Fangyu’s. He hadn’t noticed it onstage, but now he felt a thin layer of sweat on his palm. Shen Fangyu didn’t say anything, just took the water Li Sheng handed him and drank a couple of sips.
“Did you study singing?” Jiang Xu asked abruptly.
“If you want to compliment my singing, just say it. No need to be so roundabout.” Shen Fangyu smiled and handed the water bottle to Jiang Xu. When Jiang Xu hesitated and didn’t take it, Shen Fangyu casually withdrew his hand and asked Li Sheng to get Jiang Xu an unopened bottle instead.
“I know a lot of things too,” he said, returning Jiang Xu’s earlier words to him. “I won first place in the Top Ten Singers competition at No. 4 High School every year.”
Jiang Xu unscrewed the cap and took a couple of sips. “I never saw you compete in the Top Ten Singers in college.”
“Did you ever give me the time?” Shen Fangyu replied. “With the way you studied, if I’d gone to compete, wouldn’t that have been handing first place to you on a silver platter?”
Jiang Xu clicked his tongue. Shen Fangyu laughed. “Good thing we didn’t end up at the same high school.” He set down the bottle and asked, “Heading back to inpatient? Let’s go?”
Jiang Xu nodded and was about to leave with him when his phone suddenly rang. He glanced at it, and to his surprise, it was a message from President Cao.
Back when he was a student, President Cao had taught him a few classes. But it wasn’t until Jiang Xu was promoted to associate chief physician that he added the president on WeChat. In all that time, the president had never contacted him. He had no idea why he suddenly thought of him today.
President Cao: Jiang Xu, are you free? I’d like to invite you to dinner.
Jiang Xu’s fingertips paused. He looked at the message in surprise. As if sensing his confusion, President Cao quickly added another line:
“Don’t be nervous. Just my daughter and her friend. You young people can hang out, nothing to do with work. I won’t be there.”
Shen Fangyu looked over curiously. “What is it?”
Jiang Xu handed him the phone. Shen Fangyu read it word by word, then returned it. Looking at Jiang Xu’s profile, and recalling the timing of the performance and this perfectly timed message, he suddenly realized something, but he didn’t point it out immediately.
Jiang Xu’s fingers flew over the screen as he began typing a polite refusal. Shen Fangyu stopped him, pressed his lips together, and said, “It’s an invitation from the president. You should give him face. Go meet his daughter.”
Jiang Xu asked, “Is President Cao’s daughter sick?”
Shen Fangyu shook his head.
“She’s not sick. Why would I go see her?” Jiang Xu looked at him in confusion. “I only treat illnesses.”
Shen Fangyu sighed. “It’s a blind date.”
Jiang Xu lifted his eyes sharply and looked at him.
“Director Cui is our teacher. You’ve already turned her down more than once, she won’t hold it against you because of your relationship. But you can’t offend the president,” Shen Fangyu said. “Don’t be willful.”
Jiang Xu’s voice turned cold. “You want me to go on a blind date?”
“That’s not what I mean,” Shen Fangyu replied. “Can you not be so stubborn?”
Jiang Xu ignored him, grabbed his coat, and walked out, leaving Shen Fangyu with a clean, decisive silhouette. Dr. Jiang moved with a gust of wind, when he lifted the curtain, a sharp autumn breeze rushed in, making Li Sheng, who had witnessed everything, shiver.
Li Sheng had always known the two didn’t get along. When he first heard they’d be performing together, he’d expected a disaster. Instead, the show had gone surprisingly well, and they’d even been chatting and laughing backstage afterward. It hadn’t looked anything like the cold distance they showed in the office.
He had finally relaxed, only to realize that after just two minutes of not paying attention to their conversation, they were at odds again.
It was obvious Jiang Xu had left angry. Shen Fangyu stood rooted in place like a statue, unmoving, lost in thought.
“Brother Shen…” Li Sheng began hesitantly.
The sound of his voice seemed to snap Shen Fangyu back to himself. He glanced at Li Sheng, then after a moment gave a small shake of his head. Pulling on his coat, he walked out as well.
The two of them fell into another cold war.
Miss Cao was efficient. She quickly added Jiang Xu on WeChat and arranged a time and place to meet. On the day of the dinner, Director Cui even called Jiang Xu into her office and spoke to him earnestly, praising Miss Cao at length.
Perhaps afraid he didn’t understand, she added pointedly, “You may have a bright future ahead, but the road is still long, and nothing is guaranteed. If you had a father-in-law who’s the hospital president, the path would be much smoother.”
Given Jiang Xu’s temperament, he would normally have retorted, that his career was his own business and relying on a father-in-law was beneath him. But for some reason, perhaps recalling Shen Fangyu’s earlier words, he swallowed the response.
Near the end of the workday, Shen Fangyu messaged him, asking when he was leaving.
Ever since that episode of abdominal pain, as long as neither of them was on night shift, Shen Fangyu would usually ask how late Jiang Xu planned to work, then leave around the same time. They drove separate cars, but their routes overlapped; they left and arrived almost together.
Before the unexpected child, they had been rivals, competing over who worked later. They often left around the same time back then too, so no one in the department had noticed anything unusual.
Jiang Xu glanced at his phone and replied: “No need to wait for me.”
Shen Fangyu, who sat at the farthest desk opposite him in the office, suddenly stood up and crossed the room in a few quick steps.
“You’re going to have dinner with…?” There were other people in the office, so Shen Fangyu paused mid-sentence, leaving the title unsaid. But Jiang Xu understood.
Jiang Xu stood, shot him a glance. His gaze behind his glasses was icy, his tone even colder. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
After tossing back the question, he didn’t wait for a reply and left the office without looking back.
Shen Fangyu’s attitude about this matter had made him very angry.
He couldn’t quite explain why, but instinctively, he didn’t want to deal with Shen Fangyu at all.
When he arrived at the restaurant, Cao Xuan was chatting with her friend. They had chosen a table by the floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the bustling street outside.
President Cao had sent Jiang Xu a photo of his daughter beforehand. Jiang Xu was somewhat face-blind, but the girl beside Miss Cao recognized him quickly and waved.
“Good evening,” Jiang Xu said as he sat across from them. “I’m Jiang Xu.”
“Cao Xuan,” she replied with a smile, then gestured to the girl beside her. “Yang Rui.” She handed him the menu. “Rui and I have already ordered some dishes. See if there’s anything else you’d like.”
As she spoke, the dishes they’d ordered began arriving at the table, clearly more than enough for three people. Jiang Xu hadn’t intended to order anything more. But as his eyes swept across the table, he suddenly noticed a familiar dish—
Tiger-skin green peppers.
After a brief pause, he pointed at the menu. “Let’s add this.”
“Tiger-skin green peppers?” the server repeated, taking the menu to confirm. After receiving his nod, the server said, “Alright, sir,” and turned to leave.
“What’s tiger-skin green peppers?” Yang Rui hadn’t heard of the dish and hadn’t noticed it while ordering. “Is it good?” she asked Jiang Xu.
Jiang Xu gave a faint nod. “It’s worth trying.”
As he spoke, the corner of his eye caught a flash of bright yellow passing by. He instinctively looked over, but in the blink of an eye, the lane outside the window was empty again.
“What were you looking at, Dr. Jiang?” Yang Rui asked curiously.
“That car,” Jiang Xu paused slightly, “looked a bit like a colleague’s.”
“What colleague? Sounds more like a friend,” Yang Rui teased. She turned to Cao Xuan. “Do you remember what my car looks like?”
Cao Xuan shook her head. “You have so many cars. Who could remember?”
Yang Rui spread her hands and shrugged at Jiang Xu with a smile. “See? Even Xuanxuan doesn’t remember my car model.”
“Miss Cao,” Jiang Xu began, as Cao Xuan and Yang Rui both looked at him. He silently repeated the speech he had rehearsed countless times in his mind. “Thank you very much for—”
“Wait,” Cao Xuan interrupted him. “I know you probably think my dad invited you here for a blind date,” she said bluntly. “The moment I saw you, I knew you weren’t interested in me. Don’t rush to give me the ‘nice person’ speech. Let me speak first.”
Jiang Xu was momentarily at a loss. He had been thinking about how to phrase his refusal more tactfully, so as not to embarrass Miss Cao nor offend the president. Instead, Cao Xuan said directly, “To be honest, I don’t want a blind date either. So don’t worry. I’ll talk to my dad and tell him we’re not compatible and don’t click.”
Jiang Xu let out a quiet breath of relief.
“But, Dr. Jiang, I didn’t invite you just to appease my dad,” she continued, glancing at Yang Rui. “Yang Rui mainly wanted to see you in person and thank you.”
“Thank me?” Jiang Xu didn’t recall having any interaction with Yang Rui. As far as he remembered, she wasn’t his patient.
“Dr. Jiang, do you remember Huang Bin?” Yang Rui asked. “I’m his ex-girlfriend. You sent me a WeChat message and a recording.”
That had only happened not long ago. Jiang Xu remembered clearly, especially how Huang Bin’s girlfriend had blocked him after he sent the recording.
“That day, when I listened to the recording, Huang Bin suddenly came to see me. He only told me you were his classmate and that I should consult you about the surgery. Huang Bin can be petty. I was afraid he’d see my phone and find out you recorded him and sent it to me, and then hold a grudge against you. So I hurriedly deleted everything related to you,” Yang Rui explained.
“In my rush, I deleted too thoroughly. Afterward, I had no way to contact you to thank you. And of course, I couldn’t ask Huang Bin for your details.” She smiled awkwardly. “Luckily, at the Mid-Autumn Gala, I saw you and recognized you right away, you look exactly like your WeChat profile picture.”
For convenience, Jiang Xu’s profile picture was simply a photo of himself.
“Thank you, Dr. Jiang,” Yang Rui said sincerely. “Don’t worry. I told Huang Bin I never received your friend request. And when I broke up with him, I didn’t mention the recording at all. He shouldn’t suspect you.”
Jiang Xu looked at her in surprise.
“I should thank you too,” Cao Xuan added with a smile. “I used to think all men were the same, nothing good about them. Turns out there are still decent ones.”
When Yang Rui had first said she wanted to meet Jiang Xu, Cao Xuan had assumed her friend was interested in starting a new relationship. Only later did she realize that the “great benefactor” Yang Rui kept mentioning, the one who sent her the recording and helped her wake up and escape a scumbag, was this promising young Dr. Jiang.
“So you—”
“Don’t worry, Dr. Jiang, I’m fine,” Yang Rui said. “I’m not pregnant.” She glanced at Cao Xuan. “I dated Huang Bin for years. Recently, he suddenly said if I got pregnant, we’d get married. It felt off, so I talked to Xuanxuan. Thankfully she gave me advice, and we tested him out, turns out he’s that kind of person. At least I cut my losses in time.”
Cao Xuan let out a cold laugh. “He even complained in the recording that Rui was poor. He didn’t know Rui’s family assets are worth over a hundred million. She could casually buy out his so-called business and company. Luckily, I’d always felt Huang Bin wasn’t a good guy and told Rui not to reveal her family background.”
“But Dr. Jiang,” Yang Rui continued, “you look so refined, yet the way you scolded him in that recording was so satisfying. Too bad that jerk hung up too soon, I hadn’t heard enough.”
She smiled. “I always thought doctors were bookish types, after so many years of study, master’s and PhDs, all that reading would make them dull. But you’re pretty clever, remembering to record him.”
“That wasn’t my recording,” Jiang Xu clarified. “The one who answered the phone was Shen Fangyu, the colleague who performed with me that day.”
At the time, Jiang Xu had been worried that if the recording leaked, it might negatively affect Shen Fangyu. So he had processed Shen Fangyu’s voice electronically before sending it to Miss Yang. That was why Yang Rui hadn’t realized it was actually Shen Fangyu speaking to Huang Bin.
He briefly explained what had happened that night, glossing over the fact that he and Shen Fangyu were living together.
“I see,” Yang Rui nodded. “If I’d known, I should’ve invited Dr. Shen too. I should thank him as well.”
As she spoke, the plate of tiger-skin green peppers arrived. Jiang Xu picked up a piece with his chopsticks and lowered his head to taste it.
Ever since Cao Xuan clarified her intentions, the tension in his chest had eased. Learning that Yang Rui was Huang Bin’s ex-girlfriend, and that she was healthy and didn’t need to undergo an abortion, lightened his mood even further.
When Shen Fangyu’s name came up, Jiang Xu didn’t even realize that a faint smile had touched his lips.
“I’ll pass the thanks on to him,” he said.
He thought that if Shen Fangyu knew about this convoluted turn of events, he would probably also feel relieved that Yang Rui had safely escaped the scumbag and was doing well.
“Dr. Jiang, you look pretty aloof. I didn’t expect a plate of tiger-skin green peppers to make you this happy,” Yang Rui said, assuming his smile was because he was enjoying the food. She picked up a piece herself, chewed for a while, then frowned thoughtfully. “It’s actually just… average?”
Jiang Xu fell silent for a brief moment, then looked up at her and said, “Mm. It’s not as good as the way my colleague makes it.”