My Ex Who Dumped Me Comes to Hook Me Up Every Day - Chapter 34

Hearing these words, Jin Zhou’s previously wavering heart finally found solid ground.

Jiang Yuhuai was right.

Dwelling on the unchangeable past was pointless. She still had things she could do now.

Ensure the criminal suspect received the punishment they deserved.

That was the best way to console their souls.

Having made up her mind, Jin Zhou’s oppressive aura softened considerably.

But at that moment, she belatedly realized that her earlier outburst had been unreasonable.

Jiang Yuhuai hadn’t done anything wrong; she had simply caught the brunt of Jin Zhou’s anger.

Jin Zhou awkwardly stared at the floor before cautiously lifting her gaze to meet Jiang Yuhuai’s eyes.

Jiang Yuhuai’s gaze had already shifted away from her.

She was now intently savoring the soup in her spoon.

The kitchen’s cold white light cast a delicate shadow across Jiang Yuhuai’s lashes.

Her amber eyes were deep and serene, even the mole at the corner of her eye seemed tinged with a rational, restrained hue.

It was as if neither their earlier argument nor the day’s tragic death had been anything more than minor interruptions.

In reality—

Compared to a lawyer specializing in civil litigation, a doctor who regularly walks the line between life and death is far more accustomed to gruesome scenes.

Yet witnessing a life slowly fade away under one’s own hands inevitably takes an emotional toll.

What would she think if the person lying on that operating table were someone she knew, or even a close friend?

Jin Zhou couldn’t decipher Jiang Yuhuai’s thoughts.

From the moment they met until now, Jiang Yuhuai had maintained an air of calm composure.

Or rather—

Jiang Yuhuai had always been like this, even years ago.

When she was penniless and desperate, she remained composed.

When facing death with no means to intervene, she remained composed.

No matter how dire the circumstances, her emotions seemed to remain remarkably stable.

Naturally, she had maintained this same demeanor when she chose to leave six years ago.

Jin Zhou had once believed this was a sign of Jiang Yuhuai’s cold-bloodedness.

But after six years, standing here and studying Jiang Yuhuai’s expression anew, she sensed another possibility.

Perhaps Jiang Yuhuai wasn’t truly indifferent after all?

When they broke up, she was just as heartbroken.

When she failed to save her former friend, she felt equally guilty and lost.

But because she had always concealed her emotions, she had become so skilled at disguising them that it had become second nature.

This allowed her to feign indifference so convincingly, deceiving Jin Zhou time and time again.

Perhaps because Jin Zhou had been staring for too long, Jiang Yuhuai sensed her gaze and asked, “Do you want to say something to me?”

Her voice rose slightly above the bubbling sounds of the cooking pot.

On any other day, Jin Zhou might have found her tone too gentle and sweet, even a little embarrassing.

But now, hearing it only stirred complex emotions within her.

Before her lay the warm sunlight.

Behind her, was it endless rain or true tranquility?

There was no way to know.

She asked, “Jiang Yuhuai, are you ever afraid?”

Jiang Yuhuai swiftly poured the ingredients into the nearby wok, replying casually, “No.”

Jin Zhou studied her face.

There seemed to be a faint, almost imperceptible shadow of melancholy there.

Their reunion had occurred just half a month earlier, around the time of the failed surgery.

She pressed, “Why did you show up at the bar that night?”

Jiang Yuhuai remained silent, offering no answer.

Jin Zhou felt she had finally hit upon the key.

She pressed relentlessly, “Was it because of that patient you couldn’t save?”

The ingredients sizzled in the wok, filling the kitchen with an enticing aroma.

In such a relaxed and ordinary moment, Jin Zhou’s question seemed jarringly heavy.

Yet Jiang Yuhuai appeared completely unfazed.

As she scooped the tomato and egg stir-fry from the wok, she finally answered, “No.”

The answer was negative.

Jin Zhou paused, surprised by what she had heard.

“Even the most experienced doctors can’t save every patient. If I dwelled on every loss, I’d probably become an alcoholic.”

Jiang Yuhuai turned to face her.

“I’m good at managing my emotions, so—Lawyer Jin, you don’t need to worry that I went to the bar to drown my sorrows after a setback.”

Jin Zhou hesitated. “Then it was…”

A faint smile tugged at Jiang Yuhuai’s lips. Though she didn’t answer verbally, the emotion in her eyes was clear and easily understood.

Jin Zhou paused. “You’re… happy?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Jin Zhou looked puzzled. “Why?”

Jiang Yuhuai’s gaze was direct, radiating undisguised joy.

“Because you care openly and honestly.”

Upon hearing this, Jin Zhou’s expression stiffened, a suspicious blush creeping across her cheeks.

“Answer my question first,” she said, her voice lacking conviction.

Jiang Yuhuai finally offered an explanation: “Actually, I sit there for half an hour every day.”

Every day—

During day shifts, she would go after work.

During night shifts, she would go before starting her shift.

For 365 days a year, regardless of whether it was early spring, late autumn, or stormy weather, she would come to this spot for half an hour without fail, except when she was tied up in surgery.

Jiang Yuhuai had even considered that she might continue sitting in that corner indefinitely.

It wasn’t until she overheard their conversation that day that she decided to reappear before Jin Zhou.

A hint of surprise flickered across Jin Zhou’s face. “I thought you didn’t like alcohol.”

Jiang Yuhuai smiled. “Bars aren’t just about alcohol, Attorney Jin.”

The teasing tone in Jiang Yuhuai’s voice made Jin Zhou realize she had said something foolish.

Forcing herself to remain calm, she avoided Jiang Yuhuai’s gaze.

“You and Lawyer Su often go to that bar to unwind. If nothing unexpected comes up, you visit about once every month or two.”

“The timing varies, mostly on Saturdays or Sundays, but sometimes on weekdays too.”

“So, the probability of encountering you there is—one in thirty.”

Jiang Yuhuai let Jin Zhou’s gaze drift away.

With a voice so calm it betrayed no hint of emotion, she brushed aside countless days and nights of hopeless waiting.

Jin Zhou’s fingers trembled slightly.

“When did this start?”

Instead of answering directly, Jiang Yuhuai asked, “Do you think sunflowers and chamomile are pretty?”

A somewhat puzzling question.

Yet it stirred a distant memory.

On Jin Zhou’s first day back from abroad, her checked luggage had gone missing.

While she was negotiating with the counter staff, the luggage cart piled with her belongings sat around the corner.

Separated by the dense crowd, she glanced away for a moment. When she turned back, a bouquet of flowers had been placed on top.

Nine golden sunflowers surrounded by clusters of white chamomile, their petals still glistening with dew.

It was indeed a strikingly fresh and beautiful arrangement, captivating at first glance.

Most likely, passersby had casually left it behind and forgotten about it.

Jin Zhou didn’t think much of it and simply handed it over to airport staff.

Afterward, she completely forgot about the minor incident.

Until now, when Jiang Yuhuai brought it up again.

Jin Zhou froze in place.

What did Jiang Yuhuai mean by that?

Was she there the day Jin Zhou returned to China?

Or—

Had she been there all along?

Jiang Yuhuai thoughtfully gave Jin Zhou time to process her thoughts.

Only when the potato milk had simmered until soft and creamy did Jiang Yuhuai finally turn off the stove.

“I understand that my past actions have caused you irreparable harm. You hate me, you resent me.”

“But I can also sense that you can’t let go of me either.”

“I don’t,” Jin Zhou retorted quickly, but her eyes darted around, betraying the truth: Jiang Yuhuai had struck a nerve.

Jiang Yuhuai reached behind her and pulled out something, her voice gentle. “Give me your hand.”

Jin Zhou’s lips tightened slightly as she reluctantly extended her hand.

Then, a cool metal object slipped from Jiang Yuhuai’s fingers into her palm.

A silver necklace with a crescent moon pendant.

It felt utterly familiar.

On her eighteenth birthday, Jiang Yuhuai had given Jin Zhou a ‘moon’.

The year she left, the ‘moon’ vanished with her.

Jin Zhou searched everywhere, but never found the necklace she had kept close to her heart.

She had assumed she’d lost it by accident, never imagining that Jiang Yuhuai, that miser, had taken it with her.

Jin Zhou lowered her gaze. “Why give it back now?”

“Returning what belongs to you,” Jiang Yuhuai added. “Of course, you can choose not to accept it.”

“Just like our relationship. You hold the power, the right to end things at any time.”

Jin Zhou remained silent.

Jiang Yuhuai didn’t press further, her eyes as vast and serene as the sea.

After a long silence, Jin Zhou finally took the necklace.

She glanced at the woman before her, turned, and walked toward the bedroom, her voice dry and brittle. “It was mine to begin with. Don’t read anything into it. Don’t get the wrong idea.”

She closed the bedroom door behind her.

Jin Zhou stood there, leaning against the wall.

She felt utterly pathetic.

Jiang Yuhuai hadn’t said a word, yet her heart was already in turmoil, churning like a stormy sea.

The necklace seemed to burn against her skin through her clothes, and her heartbeat refused to slow.

After a while, Jin Zhou pulled out her phone and opened a search browser.

She typed: “Sunflower flower meaning.”

The answer: Silent love.

Then she typed: “Chamomile flower meaning.”

The answer: Reconciliation.

This meal was more harmonious and peaceful than any they had shared before.

Even when Jiang Yuhuai appeared at the bedroom doorway with a pillow in her arms, Jin Zhou couldn’t bring herself to refuse her.

They shared the same blanket, yet tacitly observed an invisible “Chu-Han border,” each occupying half the space without crossing over.

The lights went out, and the blackout curtains plunged the room into complete darkness.

Jin Zhou couldn’t see Jiang Yuhuai’s expression, only a faint silhouette beside her.

With her vision obscured, her other senses sharpened to an unprecedented degree.

Her soft, shallow breaths were as clear as if they were right beside her ear.

Jiang Yuhuai’s unique scent filled her nostrils.

The antiseptic smell had faded, replaced by the same shower gel fragrance they both used.

Gradually, her consciousness grew hazy and blurred.

This should have been a night of restless tossing and turning, but with the person beside her, Jin Zhou finally had a good dream after a long time.