Provoking the Obsessive, Cold, and Aloof CEO - Chapter 13

At Qingnan Hospital’s VIP ward, warm-toned lights illuminated the long corridor, and green plants swayed gently in the breeze.

The soundproof doors opened and closed silently, and the faint scent of disinfectant in the air was almost imperceptible, replaced by a subtle fragrance of lily of the valley. Marble-paneled walls displayed screens showing the current air temperature and humidity, with the time reading 1:00 PM.

The head nurse hung up the IV drip while the doctor carefully explained post-treatment instructions to Han Yue.

Ruan Taoran listened attentively, her gaze drifting involuntarily to the hospital bed.

Ji Qingyun lowered her eyes, holding her phone in one hand as she spoke: “It’s just an allergic reaction. There’s no need for President Lu to come all the way here.”

“President Lu is too kind. If he keeps this up, I’ll be afraid to visit Qingnan Hospital again.”

“Please send my regards to Dr. Gu. There’s no need for her to make a special trip either.”

After hanging up, Ji Qingyun’s gaze met Ruan Taoran’s, her eyes as cold and distant as frost on a winter morning before quickly withdrawing.

As Ruan Taoran froze, she heard Ji Qingyun’s faint voice: “Come here.”

Ruan Taoran sat down on the chair beside the bed, her eyes drawn to Ji Qingyun’s wrist.

The wrist was slender, the bone delicate, its translucent white skin resembling a porcelain sculpture displayed in the Jingdezhen Museum. An IV needle pierced the skin, allowing the fluid to flow steadily into her vein.

“Are you hungry?” Ji Qingyun asked, breaking the silence.

Though framed as a question, she didn’t wait for an answer before instructing, “Han Yue, have lunch brought to the hospital.”

Han Yue nodded in acknowledgment and quietly slipped out of the room.

With the door closed, only Ruan Taoran and Ji Qingyun remained in the silent room.

After a long pause, Ji Qingyun spoke again, her voice sharp: “Why are you suddenly mute?”

“You were so talkative at Jianghuan Hospital, weren’t you? Chatting so happily, laughing so freely, even reluctant to leave when the time came?”

“But in front of me, you become a mute?”

“No…” Ruan Taoran murmured, pressing her lips together and lowering her head like a child who had done something wrong, afraid to meet Ji Qingyun’s gaze.

She hadn’t known about Ji Qingyun’s rose allergy, nor could she understand why someone who knew about the allergy would still take that sip.

Aware that Ji Qingyun was still bothered by the morning’s incident, Ruan Taoran explained softly, “We weren’t chatting that happily. I was just trying to cheer up the patient.”

Ji Qingyun’s expression remained impassive, her voice devoid of emotion. “Am I not a patient now?”

Ruan Taoran’s eyes widened, her gaze freezing as if she had heard something extraordinary.

Could Ji Qingyun really say such a thing?

“I can’t laugh,” Ruan Taoran murmured softly. “How can I laugh when you’re lying in a hospital bed?”

After a pause, her voice drifted over, barely audible: “But you’re different. She’s just… unimportant.”

Her tone was timid, and from Ji Qingyun’s angle, only the crown of her light brown hair was visible, obscuring her expression.

She looked like a child who had made a mistake, lost and on the verge of tears.

Ji Qingyun’s gaze softened. She leaned back against the headboard and said flatly, “No need to laugh. Just bring me a glass of water.”

“Okay.” Ruan Taoran looked up, her eyes seeming to light up instantly. As she stood, even her hair seemed to dance with joy.

Ji Qingyun took the glass, her lashes lifting slightly. “Happy now?”

“Of course! My sister isn’t angry anymore, so I’m happy,” Ruan Taoran replied, settling carefully on the bed beside Ji Qingyun, avoiding the IV line.

The water she brought only lightly touched Ji Qingyun’s lips before being set aside.

Ruan Taoran pressed close, yet remained cautiously distant, as if afraid to lean too heavily.

Ji Qingyun could smell the delicate fragrance of gardenias emanating from Ruan Taoran—a warm, sun-drenched floral scent, like petals warmed by spring sunlight.

A gentle, golden light, tinged with a sweet fragrance, slowly settled beside her, her image filling the entire scene.

When Ji Qingyun’s phone rang, her eyebrows twitched involuntarily, pulled from the warmth of the gardenia scent.

Ruan Taoran had already picked up the phone and handed it to her.

The caller ID on the screen displayed “Grandpa.”

Ji Qingyun answered the call. After a moment’s hesitation, Ruan Taoran resumed her earlier position, lying close beside Ji Qingyun.

Ji Qingyun’s voice was cool and detached, like the clinking of floating ice, her words flowing out mechanically, leaving no ripple in the air.

“Grandpa.”

“At the hospital.”

“Okay, I understand. I’ll be back tonight.”

Ruan Taoran didn’t intentionally eavesdrop, nor could she clearly hear the other end of the conversation.

She only vaguely caught something about the Eldest Brother’s birthday party, urging Ji Qingyun to attend.

The call was so brief that Ruan Taoran barely registered it before Ji Qingyun hung up and handed back the phone.

Ji Qingyun had mentioned being at the hospital, yet her grandfather hadn’t even asked what she was doing there or how she was.

Ruan Taoran couldn’t help but think of the Ji Clan’s situation—a large family of dozens, seemingly all relatives, yet truly devoid of genuine kinship.

She couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for Ji Qingyun.

Without pretense, she looked directly at Ji Qingyun and asked, “Why doesn’t Grandpa ever ask how you’re doing?”

“Just an allergy, nothing serious,” Ji Qingyun replied simply, her tone so practiced it was as if she’d said it a thousand times before—dismissive, unconcerned.

Behind the gold-rimmed glasses, her clear, cold eyes, the color of pale glass, radiated aloofness and nobility, their calm as vast and still as a frozen tundra.

Ruan Taoran met those eyes without fear, setting down her phone and gently leaning closer. “Then I’ll just stay with you, Sister.”

Ji Qingyun’s gaze lingered on Ruan Taoran’s light brown hair and the pale nape of her neck, visible beneath the strands. Her eyes darkened slightly. “That’s my grandfather. You seem awfully comfortable calling him that.”

“Your grandfather is my grandfather too, Sister. It’s the same thing,” Ruan Taoran said, lifting her head, her eyes sparkling like scattered stars.

“Are you sure about that?” Ji Qingyun’s fingertips brushed against the hair at Ruan Taoran’s temple.

Ruan Taoran’s throat tightened slightly as she stared into those aloof, noble eyes behind the gold-rimmed glasses.

She couldn’t help but recall the turbulent undercurrents she’d witnessed in those same eyes when she’d thrown the glasses away in the office earlier.

Her gaze was like a jackal stalking its prey, or a surging wave capable of swallowing a person whole in an instant.

Ruan Taoran blinked, but showed no fear. She reached out and wrapped her arm around Ji Qingyun’s. “Of course,” she said. “I’d even like to visit the old man when I have time.”

A subtle flicker stirred deep within Ji Qingyun’s eyes. She didn’t push Ruan Taoran away, but simply lay there quietly, pressed against her for a while.

Before long, a soft knock came from outside.

Han Yue entered with a tray of food, which she arranged on the bedside table.

Shrimp stir-fried with asparagus, steamed sea bass, mushroom-steamed chicken, spinach soup… all light, non-greasy dishes that looked appetizing.

As she left, Han Yue reminded them to be careful of the sea bass bones, clearly addressing Ruan Taoran with her repeated warnings, her concern palpable.

Ruan Taoran didn’t dare say anything. Compared to Han Yue’s meticulous and attentive private assistant skills, she was indeed someone who inspired little confidence.

The first time I brought someone food, I ended up sending them to the hospital.

Ruan Taoran lowered her gaze, carefully checking the fish for bones before placing a piece in Ji Qingyun’s bowl.

After picking out one piece, she lowered her head again to meticulously check the next.

The fish melted on Ji Qingyun’s tongue. Gazing at Ruan Taoran’s earnest, light brown hair, she said, “You should eat first.”

“I’ll eat after you’re done,” Ruan Taoran replied, picking up a piece of shrimp and holding it to Ji Qingyun’s lips. “Try this first. If you like it, I’ll get you more.”

Ji Qingyun’s throat tightened. She wanted to say that only one of her hands had an IV drip; the other was still free to move.

Ruan Taoran added, “I haven’t used these chopsticks yet. They’re clean.”

She smiled at Ji Qingyun, sunlight filtering through her hair, scattering fine golden flecks across her face in a dazzling, radiant glow.

Ji Qingyun parted her lips slightly and ate the shrimp.

Ruan Taoran’s eyes sparkled with amusement. President Ji, who seemed so cold and aloof, was actually quite endearing at heart.

When Ji Qingyun had eaten her fill, Ruan Taoran served her a bowl of spinach soup before finally starting her own meal. After only a few bites, she set down her chopsticks.

Ji Qingyun noticed. “Doesn’t it suit your taste?”

“It’s okay,” Ruan Taoran replied evasively.

The lack of praise meant it wasn’t good. Ji Qingyun understood.

“Next time,” Ji Qingyun said, “I’ll have Han Yue take you out to eat.”

“No,” Ruan Taoran shook her head, frowning. “Sister, do you think I’m ruining your appetite by being here?”

Ji Qingyun knew that most of the young women at the company preferred strong flavors, with a fondness for sweets and spicy foods.

Ji Qingyun, on the other hand, preferred light and mild dishes, the kind that older people enjoyed.

“I just thought the dishes I like wouldn’t suit your taste,” Ji Qingyun said slowly.

“They do suit my taste! I like them!” Ruan Taoran interrupted her directly.

Her eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings as she cleared the table. She then snuggled up to Ji Qingyun, murmuring softly, “I love eating with you, Sister.”

Having grown accustomed to foreign cuisine during her time abroad, Ruan Taoran could eat just about anything. She enjoyed Chinese food, whether salty or bland.

Moreover, Ruan Taoran had never had the luxury of being picky about food. As a child living under someone else’s roof, she was grateful for any meal she received.

Today wasn’t about disliking the food; she simply wasn’t very hungry.

Ji Qingyun shifted slightly, making room for her. Her eyelashes lowered gently, but the corners of her lips couldn’t help but soften into a smile.

This girl adored her so much that she would even change her tastes just to share a meal with her.