My Ex Who Dumped Me Comes to Hook Me Up Every Day - Chapter 33

You’ve done your best.

The journey passed in silence.

Jin Zhou expertly entered the passcode to open the front door.

“You should rest first. I still have some things to take care of,” she said, avoiding Jiang Yuhuai’s gaze as she headed straight for the study.

Though she claimed to have unfinished work, Jin Zhou merely stared at the computer’s homepage for a long time after opening it.

She opened the authorization document and then the identity verification, completing all the necessary procedures.

Until the criminal was apprehended, there was little more she could do.

Scratching her head, Jin Zhou closed the laptop and gazed absently at a corner of the room.

In a daze, she recalled Qu Xinran’s smiling eyes as she said, “You two are such a perfect match! If you can, please come to our wedding!”

Before she realized it, Jin Zhou’s fingers had unlocked her phone, revealing the VX chat screen.

Hahaha, I know you’re easily embarrassed, so I won’t tease you anymore. Ranran and I are going ring shopping tomorrow. I’ll send you a picture of the prettiest one right away. Talk to you later!

If nothing had happened, Wen Yan would have already picked out her dream ring and returned home with Qu Xinran, wouldn’t she?

She would have called to show off the diamond ring she’d chosen today, and gossip about how Jin Zhou and Jiang Yuhuai were doing.

Two days remained until Wen Yan and Qu Xinran’s engagement ceremony.

Jin Zhou could almost picture them walking side-by-side, hand in hand, in their beautiful gowns.

If only…

Their voices, smiles, and laughter remained vivid, as if everything had happened just moments ago.

But even clearer than that—

was the mottled bloodstains on the floor, the heavy metallic tang in the air.

It was the mangled face, flesh torn away to reveal bone.

It was the body, skin peeled back, riddled with wounds.

A wave of nausea surged from her stomach. Jin Zhou coughed dryly, tears welling up in her eyes, an uncontrollable physiological response.

Footsteps approached.

Jiang Yuhuai appeared at the study door.

“Zhouzhou.”

Jin Zhou wiped her eyes, forcing herself to calm down. “What is it?”

Jiang Yuhuai glanced at the still-lit phone screen but said nothing, his eyes filled with obvious concern.

Jin Zhou feigned nonchalance. “Nothing, I was just thinking they might catch the culprit tonight. I wanted to double-check the program to avoid any errors tomorrow.”

“It’s late. Let’s handle it in the morning,” Jiang Yuhuai said softly, as if speaking to a fragile piece of glass, seemingly unaware of her pretense.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jin Zhou noticed the hour and minute hands on the clock had merged.

It was almost ten o’clock.

Jin Zhou hadn’t been hungry, but Jiang Yuhuai had low bl00d sugar.

“It’s already this late…”

Realizing this, she stood up and walked to the kitchen like a robot.

“I’ll make dinner. You’ve had a long day. Go take a hot bath first.”

Jin Zhou muttered to herself as she passed Jiang Yuhuai, who suddenly grabbed her hand.

She paused and turned back. “What is it?”

“No rush.”

With that, Jiang Yuhuai knelt down and lifted Jin Zhou’s foot.

Gently, she removed the high heels from Jin Zhou’s feet.

Only then did Jin Zhou realize she had forgotten to change her shoes when she came in, still dazed.

Pulled back to the entrance, Jiang Yuhuai slipped cute slippers onto Jin Zhou’s feet before meticulously placing the high heels back in their proper place.

In that moment, Jiang Yuhuai seemed more like the mistress of this home than Jin Zhou herself.

If we hadn’t been separated all these years, this is probably what it would have been like, Jin Zhou thought.

She pressed her lips together. “Thank you.”

Jiang Yuhuai’s hands paused, and she looked up at Jin Zhou. “You’re being so polite all of a sudden. You don’t sound like the person who was crying and calling my name just now, with snot and tears running down her face.”

Jin Zhou’s expression froze.

Earlier, outside the hospital, she had been at her lowest point emotionally. The sudden sight of Jiang Yuhuai had caused her to lose composure.

Now that her emotions had stabilized, Jin Zhou felt deeply embarrassed.

But Jiang Yuhuai hadn’t mentioned it at all during the drive home, so she had assumed the matter was closed.

She never expected him to bring it up now.

Jin Zhou nervously tugged at the hem of her shirt, feeling awkward.

“Please don’t talk about that.”

Jiang Yuhuai’s gaze softened slightly, a gentle warmth like a spring breeze flickering at the corners of his lips.

“Alright, I won’t.”

Jin Zhou’s face flushed belatedly, and she averted her eyes, nearly fleeing.

“What do you want to eat? I’ll make dinner.”

Jiang Yuhuai didn’t press the embarrassing topic further, casually replying, “I’ll handle it. I checked the fridge earlier—there’s just enough left for tomato and egg stir-fry and beef stew with potatoes.”

He had been busy for a while after leaving the operating room and had only just sat down to rest.

Jin Zhou wanted to protest.

But when she saw Jiang Yuhuai’s slightly furrowed brow, she instantly understood the unspoken concern behind his words.

Jin Zhou ultimately relented.

“…Okay.”

While Jiang Yuhuai prepared the ingredients, Jin Zhou kept herself busy peeling potatoes.

Once finished, she stood to the side, watching Jiang Yuhuai’s busy figure.

Jiang Yuhuai didn’t speak, but she deliberately kept blocking Jin Zhou’s view, preventing her from seeing the tomatoes and beef in front of her.

Jin Zhou opened her mouth, but ultimately swallowed the words “I’m fine,” stopping herself from speaking.

Perhaps noticing her gaze, Jiang Yuhuai asked, “What are you looking at?”

Jin Zhou instinctively shook her head, then remembered she couldn’t see. “Nothing.”

She assumed the conversation would end there.

But Jiang Yuhuai paused, then continued, “Can I ask you some questions?”

Her tone carried a hint of seriousness, and Jin Zhou unconsciously straightened her posture.

“Go ahead.”

Jiang Yuhuai didn’t immediately ask her question, as if she were pondering how to phrase it.

“Did you… go to the crime scene?”

Jiang Yuhuai’s expression was complex, but Jin Zhou had already mentally prepared herself for this question.

She answered without much hesitation, “Yes.”

“And you’ve already seen… the video?”

Jin Zhou lowered her gaze and continued, “Yes.”

Jiang Yuhuai spoke again, but her usually cold voice seemed to have softened, warmed by the rising steam and bubbling broth from the pot.

“What are you thinking?”

What am I thinking?

She was thinking about why she hadn’t been there when Wen Yan and Qu Xinran had their accident, unable to share even a fraction of their pain and despair.

She was also thinking about why she hadn’t said something when Wen Yan sent that message last night—maybe she could have prevented this senseless tragedy.

Most of all, she wished she could go back to the day before the accident.

To warn Wen Yan and Qu Xinran:

Don’t go out to buy rings today. Don’t go to Baiyang District, and definitely don’t go to that jewelry store.

That way, they wouldn’t have been targeted by that man, wouldn’t have lost their lives so tragically.

Her hands, clasped behind her back, gradually tightened, a warm, damp liquid seeping between her fingers.

Yet Jin Zhou maintained a casual demeanor.

“Nothing much. Just thinking about how unpredictable life can be.”

She placed the lid back on the clay pot.

Jiang Yuhuai untied her apron and hung it aside, turning to look at Jin Zhou with focused intensity.

“Is there anything else?”

Her question sounded like a genuine inquiry, but Jin Zhou sensed she already had the answer in her heart.

For a fleeting moment, Jin Zhou felt as if Jiang Yuhuai had seen right through her.

This feeling was particularly irritating when she was trying to conceal her emotions.

She frowned slightly, her tone turning a touch sharper. “No, there’s nothing else.”

Jiang Yuhuai stared into her eyes for a long moment before shaking her head with conviction.

“You’re lying.”

A dull ache throbbed at Jin Zhou’s temples. “Then what do you think I should be thinking?”

Jiang Yuhuai fell silent, likely searching for the right words.

As the air stilled, the howling wind outside the window and the sudden downpour of rain became strikingly clear.

Jin Zhou felt an inexplicable surge of irritation.

“Dr. Jiang, you can rest assured I’m not the naive, pitiful girl I was six years ago. I can manage my emotions now. I won’t burden myself with irrelevant feelings.”

Jin Zhou’s words were delivered with casual detachment, as if she had truly matured into a rational, composed adult.

So rational, in fact, that she could treat her best friend from her student days as just another client, coldly and ruthlessly navigating every step of the investigation and litigation process.

Jin Zhou didn’t see it; her own eyes were bloodshot and swollen, crisscrossed with red veins, and her lips were cracked from prolonged dehydration.

Even though only a single day had passed.

Jiang Yuhuai hesitated, then spoke.

“Lawyer Su told me you’ve turned down all your other cases.”

Jin Zhou glared coldly at Jiang Yuhuai, barely restraining herself from asking when she had gotten Su Yun’s contact information.

“It’s simply because this case is particularly heinous and complex. Is that answer satisfactory, Dr. Jiang?”

Jin Zhou was genuinely angry, even resorting to the unfamiliar and distant “Dr. Jiang,” a title she hadn’t used in ages.

Jiang Yuhuai’s lips tightened, her eyes filled with an unreadable emotion.

“I acknowledge you’re a mature, rational adult and an exceptional lawyer, fully capable of handling any crisis on your own.”

She paused, then continued, “But Zhouzhou, the burden you’re carrying is too heavy.”

Jin Zhou narrowed her eyes slightly. “Jiang Yuhuai, do you think you understand me so well?”

Jiang Yuhuai shook her head gently. “I’ve never been arrogant enough to believe I could read your every thought without you speaking them. Nor have I ever wanted to argue with you.”

Jin Zhou said coldly, “So what are you trying to say?”

After a moment of silence, a soft, almost inaudible voice came from the other end of the line.

“I just wanted to say… it’s not your fault.”

Jin Zhou frowned, instinctively wanting to argue.

But before she could speak, the faint redness at the corner of the other woman’s eye caught her attention.

Like a summer drizzle calming the scorching heat in her heart, the surging anger drained away like air from a punctured balloon.

Only a trace of helplessness remained on Jin Zhou’s face.

“Why… isn’t it my fault?”

Jiang Yuhuai spoke gently.

“Zhouzhou, no one could have foreseen this. The disaster wasn’t because you didn’t stop them from going out today.”

Jin Zhou’s expression wavered, but she remained silent.

Jiang Yuhuai continued, “I understand you can’t accept this so quickly, but—”

Before she could finish, the woman in front of her leaned closer, and Jin Zhou instinctively took a half-step back.

But Jiang Yuhuai only reached out to gently stroke her cheek.

“You’ve already done so much.”