Chapter 15: Lingering Thoughts

Confronted with Cheng Feng’s confusion, Rong Shen paid him no heed. Instead, he let his gaze wander carelessly over the courtyard, taking in every scene and object within it.

Everywhere his eyes landed bore the traces of time’s desolation: the tangled, withered grass, the untended grape trellis, and beneath the window, a table flanked by four stools—so full of the breath of everyday life that, but for the recent upheaval, one could almost imagine the warm joy of a family of four lingering here.

A sound came from the front door of the bungalow. The man gathered his thoughts and looked up.

The door opened. Before An Tong herself emerged, the little puppy darted out, bounding energetically into the grass, lively as could be.

Cheng Feng was utterly delighted, bending over with exaggerated faces to amuse the dog.

An Tong seemed busy inside, and only after quite some time did she appear.

In the yard, the puppy seemed unimpressed by Cheng Feng, brushing past him to sniff around Rong Shen’s legs, then tilting its head back—beginning to bark.

At this sight, An Tong, unfazed, remarked, “It’s been barking like that since last night.”

It was a whimpering little creature, not particularly lovable.

The man glanced down at the snow mastiff pup, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “It is rather noisy.”

“Dr. Rong, if you don’t mind, please come inside,” An Tong said, holding the door open with polite invitation.

After all, he was here to help—she couldn’t very well leave him standing in the cold outside. Autumn’s chill was deepening, yet the man still wore only a thin, elegant white shirt, as if impervious to cold or heat.

The three of them entered in turn, passing through the entryway and down a hallway into a modest study.

The room was some ten square meters, with three walls lined with curved bookshelves, each shelf packed to capacity. By the coffee table sat two single armchairs. Steam still curled from the tea on the table, clearly freshly made.

An Tong glanced around the doorway, but the puppy was nowhere in sight. “Wait for me a moment,” she said, and returned to the entryway.

The room fell silent. Standing beside the man, Cheng Feng bent down and whispered, “Master Jiu, Miss An’s house is quite large.”

From the outside, the house looked unremarkable, but inside, it was a different world. There were four or five rooms just along the hallway, though all with closed doors, their interiors hidden from view.

“Wait outside,” the man said, bending to pick up the teacup. He sipped lightly; the aroma was strong, but the taste was slightly bitter—tea leaves left too long, perhaps.

Cheng Feng gave a noncommittal grunt and awkwardly left the study.

Before long, An Tong returned, carrying the puppy awkwardly, supporting its belly with one hand. Her movements were careful but inexperienced.

“Dr. Rong, what should I do with it?” she asked, placing the little dog on the armchair. No sooner had she finished speaking than the whimpering began anew.

The man set down his teacup, his eyes gentle. “If you don’t wish to keep it, you could take it to a pet rescue center.”

From the doorway, Cheng Feng gave a start. “?”

An Tong frowned in mild disagreement. “But what if its owner comes looking for it…”

“It’s not a rare breed. For a puppy this young to be wandering outside, it likely doesn’t have an owner.”

Cheng Feng: “??”

Rong Shen’s tone was so calm, and An Tong’s trust in his words so complete, that she recalled how the puppy had come into her yard last night and no one had come for it since. Perhaps it really was a stray.

Listening to its persistent whimpers, An Tong said, with a hint of annoyance, “Then… let’s send it to the rescue center.”

Outside the door, Cheng Feng could no longer hold back.

Miss An might not know the value of a snow mastiff pup, but he certainly did.

With an expression of regret, Cheng Feng leaned on the doorframe and said, “Miss An, it’s so small. Sending it to a shelter is too cruel. If no one adopts it, it’ll be put down for sure. If you really don’t want it, perhaps you could—”

Just as Cheng Feng was about to nobly volunteer himself, the man interrupted calmly and coolly, “Why not consider keeping it yourself?”

He was, of course, addressing An Tong.

“I don’t know how to raise one, or how to get along with it…” An Tong turned to Rong Shen, poking the puppy’s belly with her finger. “Keeping it with me might just make it miserable.”

She could barely take care of herself—how could she look after such a small creature?

Sensing her touch, the puppy turned its head and licked her fingers, whining even louder.

An Tong, a little exasperated, withdrew her hand. “And it won’t stop barking.”

Rong Shen’s perceptive gaze lingered on her face, and after a moment, the hardness of his features softened with a faint smile. “Pick it up.”

An Tong did as she was told.

But rather than cradling it, she slipped her left hand under its belly and lifted it horizontally.

To Cheng Feng, her manner was no different from hoisting a brick.

Perhaps her stiffness amused Rong Shen, for the smile on his handsome face deepened. “Give it to me.”

An Tong handed him the puppy. Then she heard another question: “Do you have any tissues?”

“Yes.” She opened the coffee table drawer and set a box of tissues on the armrest.

All the while, she watched Rong Shen’s actions intently, and was surprised to find that once he’d picked up the puppy, it stopped barking.

The room was thick with the scent of books. An Tong braced herself on her knees, half-bent, watching him closely.

The late autumn sunlight, though unable to dispel the cold, fell softly and warmly on the world below.

So it was now: bathed in gentle sunlight, Rong Shen wiped the puppy’s paws and mouth with a tissue, every motion marked by just the right touch of elegance—almost tenderness.

An Tong looked now at the puppy, now at Rong Shen. The care and patience he showed seemed to infect her, and with the little dog now quiet, it no longer seemed so bothersome.

Soon, Rong Shen was finished and handed the puppy back. “Try holding it in your arms.”

Following his example, An Tong carefully gathered the puppy to her chest, stroking its head as she gazed into its bright, black eyes.

It really didn’t bark.

“It’s still very young and needs company. As long as you don’t dislike it, you might try spending some time with it.”

Looking at the docile puppy in her arms, An Tong, for some reason, thought of herself.

Both of them were lonely, sharing the same sense of abandonment.

Being so close, An Tong even noticed a faint double eyelid on the puppy’s eyes. It tilted its head at her in such a way that stirred an instinct to protect.

“Do you want me to keep it, Dr. Rong?”

“Yes. Companion animals can build trust more easily than people,” the man replied, his deep, magnetic voice unhurried, yet steady and reassuring. “Long periods of solitude won’t help your condition. With it around, whenever you go out, whatever you do, you’ll remember—there’s someone waiting for you at home.”

There’s someone waiting for you at home.

That single sentence struck An Tong to the core, her eyes reddening, her heart a turmoil of emotion.

It had truly been a long time since she’d felt what it was like to have someone—or something—waiting for her at home.

At that moment, Cheng Feng, too, suddenly understood. It seemed Master Jiu, in his own quiet way, was creating a bond of affection for the lonely Miss An.