Chapter 26: Confessions

After dinner at the Lin residence, Antong had no desire to linger. She found an excuse to take her leave early. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand social etiquette—rather, the warm, harmonious atmosphere at the dinner table inevitably reminded her of her own shattered family. The stark contrast pressed down on her heart like a mountain.

Dr. Rong had once advised her to interact more with the outside world; she had made the attempt tonight, but the feelings it stirred were difficult to put into words. Even so, she betrayed nothing on her face, maintaining a polite smile as she bid farewell to the family of three. Lin Bo wanted to walk her downstairs, but she gently declined.

After Antong left, Director Lin stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching her solitary figure recede into the distance. He sighed softly, “Xiao An seems much better lately. I hope she can keep it up.”

Aunt Qiao handed him a cup of tea from behind. “She will. She’s come to our home for dinner once—there will definitely be a second time. Things will only get better for her.”

Director Lin chuckled, as if recalling something. “Speaking of which, I made a bit of a blunder recently. When Xiao An was added to the company chat group, I saw her profile picture and replied ‘received’ without even looking at the message.”

“How is that a blunder? Sending the wrong message happens all the time.”

Director Lin sighed with emotion. “After her family’s accident, Xiao An changed her profile picture to the same one the president used back in the day. When I saw it, I was momentarily dazed, thinking it was the president assigning tasks. It’s been three years, but some habits are hard to break.”

…

Meanwhile, Antong walked out of the neighborhood and made her way to the People’s Park, where she sat on a bench. The sky was not yet fully dark, but the city lights had already illuminated every street and alley. She sat alone for a moment, then took out her phone and opened WeChat.

She typed out a message, hesitated before sending it.

—Dr. Rong, when will you be back?

Antong stared at the words, then decided to rewrite them. Too blunt, it sounded almost accusatory. But before she could make up her mind, a gust of cool wind swept a dry leaf across her fingers and onto the ground. Her thumb accidentally brushed the screen, and the message was sent.

Antong: “…”

She hurried to recall the message, then hastily re-edited it to cover her tracks: Dr. Rong, may I ask when the next counseling session is scheduled?

She stared at the chat window, but half a minute passed with no reply. He was probably busy and hadn’t seen the withdrawn message.

At the same time, in a private room at the Flat-Top Restaurant in Zhanzhou, the atmosphere was lively with laughter and toasts.

“Mr. Rong, here’s to a fruitful partnership!” A portly middle-aged man raised his glass with a sycophantic smile. “Now that you’re overseeing things in Zhanzhou, our shared success is just around the corner.”

“Yes, yes, Mr. Rong, I’ll finish my drink first—you can go at your own pace.”

Everyone raised their glasses in agreement, their words and demeanor filled with both deference and awe toward the man.

Suddenly, a phone on the table lit up. Rong Shen set down his wine glass and opened the message from Antong.

AN: Dr. Rong, when will you be back?

Moments later, the message was withdrawn.

He narrowed his eyes at the “typing…” indicator on the screen, his lips tightening slightly. Whatever Antong sent next, some things were already clear.

The girl was in distress.

With just a few words, he could sense the fluctuation in her emotions.

Because she hadn’t used formal address.

Though Antong suffered from psychological issues, she was always exceedingly polite in her interactions. With him especially, she maintained a careful distance—neither too close nor too cold—her courtesy meticulous, rarely this direct.

Just like that day at the farm. Upon learning he was leaving, she’d abandoned formalities in her urgency.

Rong Shen frowned at the screen in silence. Noticing his demeanor, the others at the table fell quiet, glancing uneasily at one another.

“Mr. Rong, is something urgent the matter?” someone probed cautiously, worried about a potential setback in their collaboration.

He lifted his gaze, composed and unhurried. “No, please continue. I’ll excuse myself for a moment.”

They watched as he left the room, their anxiety easing somewhat.

Out in the corridor, Cheng Feng hurried over. “Ninth Master, is the dinner over?”

“Not yet. Go keep them company for a while—I have something to take care of.”

Cheng Feng nodded, glancing back to see Rong Shen lift his phone to his ear.

At first, Cheng Feng had no idea who the Ninth Master was calling, but as soon as he heard, “Did you send a WeChat message because you needed to talk to me?” it became clear. No one but Miss An.

…

Night had fallen, and the lights of the residential buildings glowed warmly. Antong crushed a dry leaf under her toe, her expression somber as she prepared to take a taxi home. An’an was still waiting for her.

Just then, her phone vibrated.

Caller: Dr. Rong.

Antong stared at the name, then answered softly.

The man’s deep voice sounded particularly magnetic and steady under the night sky. Antong gazed at the buildings, her voice tight. “It’s nothing special. I just wanted to ask when the next session will be.”

“In a hurry?” She thought she heard a hint of laughter in his tone. Before she could reply, he continued, “I’ll probably be back Saturday. If you can’t wait, you can talk to me now.”

She asked, “Are you busy? Am I disturbing your work?”

“Not at all. Go ahead.”

Perhaps it was a professional’s intuition—he’d already sensed she needed to talk.

Antong set aside her hesitation, leaned back on the bench, and the gloom in her eyes lightened. “I went to a senior’s house for dinner today…”

It was the first time she’d confided something personal to Rong Shen. Like any normal doctor-patient conversation, she murmured her troubles, and he listened in silence.

Without the restraint of face-to-face interaction, Antong poured out her frustrations in one breath.

When she finished, three minutes had passed.

He hadn’t interrupted once. Only when the receiver fell silent did he ask, his voice low, “Are you still downstairs at the Golden Lake complex?”

“No, I’m near People’s Square.”

She heard the flick of a lighter on the other end—Rong Shen seemed to have lit a cigarette, his voice a little muffled. “It’s natural to feel sad visiting a senior’s home. You’ve always lived in Xiangjiang; from now on, you’ll only meet more acquaintances. It’s fine to reminisce occasionally, but don’t dwell in the past.”

Antong nodded. “I understand.”

“Take your time—there’s no need to force things.” His voice had a soothing power, as if smoothing out the rough places in her heart. “Taking the initiative to visit a senior is already progress.”

She glanced at her phone and pursed her lips. “Mm, I’ll adjust. I won’t trouble you any further.”

“Remember to call a cab home. Let me know when you arrive.”

His reminder was almost that of a caring elder. Antong smiled. “Alright. Goodbye.”

At the Flat-Top Restaurant, Rong Shen slipped his phone into his pocket, standing in the smoking area outside, eyes narrowed in thought.

After half a cigarette, he took out his phone again and called Butler Li at the Cloudcrest Villa. “How’s progress in Zhanzhou?”

“Ninth Master, the apartment renovations are nearly finished. The furnishing will be installed in a couple of days—move-in could be as soon as the end of the year.”

He tapped the ash from his cigarette, his expression inscrutable. “Keep a close eye on things. Has the old lady visited Cloudcrest lately?”

“No, she hasn’t. But I heard from the main house that the old lady often invites Miss Wen over these days. She’s thinking of letting Miss Wen host her birthday party at the club by the stables—perhaps she wants to help arrange it.”

He responded indifferently, then added, “Have the private cinema and function hall at home cleaned up. They’ll be used on Sunday.”

Butler Li was momentarily stunned. “Yes, Ninth Master.”

The private cinema at Cloudcrest had never been used since the Ninth Master moved in. Who would have thought that after a business trip, he’d suddenly be in the mood for a movie?

…

When Antong arrived home, it was just eight o’clock.

Her puppy bounced around her legs, wagging its tail for a hug.

She scooped it up, walked into the living room, opened a bag of biscuits, and began feeding it while composing a message on her phone.

Her earlier call with Dr. Rong had lasted too long. For fear of becoming addicted to confiding in him, she kept her message brief.

AN: Dr. Rong, I’m home.

She didn’t expect an immediate reply. It was only when she glanced at the previous messages that she realized they still hadn’t set the exact date for her next session.

She put her phone aside and continued feeding An’an biscuits.

Not long after, her phone vibrated.

Rong Jiu: Are you feeling any better?

AN: Much better, you don’t need to worry.

Rong Jiu: If you’re free on Sunday, let Cheng Feng pick you up for an extra counseling session.

Reading this, a gentle warmth bloomed in her chest. She typed unhurriedly: You’ll just be back from your trip on Saturday. Wouldn’t you like to rest another day?

His reply came after half a minute, but he didn’t answer her question.

Rong Jiu: Is Sunday inconvenient?

Antong frowned unconsciously—it seemed Dr. Rong had misunderstood her.

Before she could find the words to clarify, her screen flashed—he was calling her directly.

She pressed the phone to her ear. His voice was steady and rich: “If it’s inconvenient, we can reschedule.”

“No, it’s not inconvenient,” she explained softly. “I just thought you might be tired after your trip…”

Her thoughtfulness brought a faint smile to his lips. “Don’t worry. Come by on Sunday—we’ll also discuss your future treatment plan.”

“Alright, see you Sunday.”

After hanging up, Antong stared at her phone for a long moment, her heavy mood completely cleared away.

Soon, An’an nudged her hand, bringing her back to reality.

She stroked the puppy’s little head and sent Rong Shen a message, almost like offering a badge of kindness. “Dr. Rong is really a good person, isn’t he?”