A White Cloud (GL ABO) - Chapter 9

Xia An had met Tomb Cheng.

The content of the mobilization meeting gave Shen Zhiqing a headache.

The dean spoke endlessly on stage.

The meeting ended over an hour later.

Su Jue, starving, complained, “I didn’t eat breakfast, and the dean’s talkative habit is getting worse.”

Shen Zhiqing glanced at her sideways and pulled Su Jue’s hand off her shoulder.

She spoke just loud enough to snap the hungry, listless Su Jue back to attention, saying, “Dean.”

“Little Shen,” the dean called.

Several people followed him, and Shen Zhiqing recognized the medical affairs director and a professor from the research institute.

“Dean,” Su Jue said, instantly alert, standing straight and shouting energetically.

Xiang Ming, with the authority of a superior and an Alpha, looked at Su Jue with sternness and criticism, saying, “You’re an Alpha. Can’t you act properly for once?”

Su Jue pouted, muttering, “Why did Mom complain again…”

Xiang Ming was frustrated with her.

He had one obedient daughter who married the useless, art-obsessed youngest son of the Su family.

His granddaughter finally pursued medicine, but her personality, inherited from who-knows-where, made her disappear constantly.

This led to his daughter accusing him of mistreating her granddaughter.

Who knew where Su Jue went to fool around after leaving the hospital?

Seeing her argue back, Xiang Ming’s anger flared, ready to scold her.

The medical affairs director intervened, saying, “Dean, don’t get worked up.”

Xiang Ming glared at her, and Su Jue shrank like a timid chick.

Shen Zhiqing tried to leave, but Su Jue grabbed her lab coat’s hem; their eyes met.

[ If you leave, I’m dead! ] Su Jue’s eyes pleaded.

[ It’s not my problem. ] Shen Zhiqing’s gaze replied.

Su Jue wouldn’t let go, clutching the hem tightly.

An Omega couldn’t match an Alpha’s strength, so Shen Zhiqing maintained a composed expression and stood beside her.

The medical affairs director calmed Xiang Ming, whispering, “The research institute people are still here.”

Xiang Ming shot Su Jue another glare, then snorted, saying, “Come back with your mother tonight, got it? Meng made soup for you.”

“Got it,” Su Jue replied, not daring to refuse.

Her grandmother’s soup was delicious.

After the family squabble, the medical affairs director smiled apologetically at Professor Mo, saying, “Professor, don’t mind them. These two are Director Song’s students.”

“No problem, Director. I know Song Cheng’s students. He often mentions them,” Mo Jiangyan said, waving it off with a friendly smile, dressed elegantly.

The medical affairs director explained Mo Jiangyan’s purpose to Shen Zhiqing and Su Jue, saying, “The research institute’s project needs data support before clinical trials. Professor Mo highly regards our hospital’s psychiatry department’s achievements and wants to invite you to collaborate on research and discussions.”

Shen Zhiqing stayed silent, but Su Jue spoke first, asking, “What is Professor Mo’s research focus?”

Mo Jiangyan eyed the two young women, thinking of her student buried in the lab, and smiled, saying, “Pheromone genetics.”

***

Back in the office, Su Jue spun in her chair twice, holding a business card between her fingers.

She turned to Shen Zhiqing, saying, “Pheromone genetics department, Yuan Jin. Do you know her?”

Su Jue tossed the card, which slid across the desk to Shen Zhiqing’s hand.

“I know her. Zhiman’s childhood friend,” Shen Zhiqing replied.

Su Jue nodded, recalling, “Oh, so that’s her.”

Zhiman was a social butterfly.

Su Jue, from a different area as a child, didn’t know her.

Shen Zhiqing said little, spoke a few words with Su Jue, and returned to her office.

The ward was quiet, with patients resting after medication.

Only a few family members fetching water lingered in the corridor.

A banner hung on the activity area’s wall: “Respect life; cold analysis is more indifferent than care.”

For mental health patients, repeatedly proving their abnormality didn’t help their condition.

Constant reminders equated to constant negation.

Healthcare workers provided humanistic care, teaching patients to observe the world anew, helping them rediscover life’s beauty and reality.

Mental illness didn’t mean madness; patients were simply temporarily lost in life.

In her office, Shen Zhiqing opened the bottom cabinet drawer and took out a sketch paper.

Her gaze lingered fondly, her fingertips gently tracing the paper.

If she was lost, Tomb Cheng was her direction.

***

Tomb Cheng wandered outside with the research institute’s report for a long time before deciding to head home.

After retiring, she didn’t know what to do.

When she left decisively years ago, she was alone.

Now, she bore responsibility for another.

Xu Yiyi needed care, no matter what.

Tomb Cheng placed the report in her room alongside her old merit badges, took a shower, and went to the kitchen to prepare a simple meal.

Ding-dong.

The pot had just hit the stove when the doorbell rang.

Tomb Cheng, in slippers, opened the door.

Shen Zhiqing, exhausted and carrying a tote bag, threw herself into Tomb Cheng’s arms.

“Senior Sister,” Tomb Cheng said, gently steadying her to prevent a fall.

Shen Zhiqing raised her hand, shaking the bag. The kraft paper rustled.

“Hmm,” Shen Zhiqing hummed.

Tomb Cheng’s eyes, hidden behind glasses, narrowed.

The room’s light revealed a small cake box inside the bag.

Shen Zhiqing changed into guest slippers from the shoe cabinet and sat on the sofa.

Tomb Cheng poured her a glass of water, saying, “Drink.”

She turned to the kitchen, shut off the stove, and the boiling water quieted instantly.

The house was so silent that breathing was audible.

A pair of arms wrapped around her waist from behind.

Tomb Cheng tried to pull them off, but Shen Zhiqing wouldn’t let go.

Tomb Cheng sighed, saying, “Senior Sister, go sit.”

Shen Zhiqing refused, looking up at her.

Tomb Cheng’s brows furrowed, radiating displeasure.

Shen Zhiqing’s eyes darkened, and she leaned limply against Tomb Cheng’s back, saying, “No.”

“Then what do you want?”

Tomb Cheng asked, her voice tinged with suppressed anger.

Shen Zhiqing’s body trembled slightly.

The Alpha’s innate dominance and honed authority shook her, but she didn’t let go, tightening her arms around Tomb Cheng’s waist.

“Are you mad?” she asked cautiously, testing the waters.

Tomb Cheng raised an eyebrow.

Their height difference let Shen Zhiqing’s breath hit her spine.

The Omega’s soft br3asts pressed against her back.

Tomb Cheng took a deep breath to calm herself, saying, “No.”

Why would she be mad? If anyone should be, it was Shen Zhiqing.

Tomb Cheng was the one who left without a word that morning.

Shen Zhiqing hugged her waist, clutching her clothes, and asked, “If you’re not mad, can you hug me?”