Chapter 9: The Best Friend

"Are you feeling better?" Rong Shen, seeing that An Tong was awake, thoughtfully withdrew his hand from her shoulder.

The man's deep, magnetic voice seemed to soothe the restlessness and anxiety following her episode.

An Tong nodded mechanically, though her gaze was still pale and somewhat sluggish.

After a brief silence, she looked up at the elegant and composed man. "I'm sorry, just now I..."

"I've warmed some tea in the living room. If you're feeling better, go have a cup to refresh yourself."

Rong Shen didn't give her the chance to apologize, as calm and serene as ever. Aside from his genuine concern, An Tong sensed no hint of discrimination or pity from him.

It was as if, in his eyes, none of this really mattered.

An Tong lowered her gaze, hiding the gratitude in her eyes, and obediently agreed.

She rose slowly, and the man picked up the programming book in passing, preparing to leave.

However, her body hadn't fully recovered from the stiffness brought on by her episode. Her legs were numb and weak, making her steps exceedingly slow.

During this time, the man seemed to accommodate her, adjusting his pace to be unhurried, offering patience and respect.

...

After about five or six minutes, An Tong's mind was finally free from the lingering effects of her illness.

She drank half a cup of tea, and color returned to her lips. "Just now... thank you."

Rong Shen sat in a single armchair, slowly turning the pages of his book, his tone indifferent. "I'm your therapist. There's no need to be so polite with me."

An Tong traced the rim of her teacup with her fingertip, watching Rong Shen flip through his book, and hesitantly asked, "That book... could I borrow it for a few days?"

Worried he might overthink, she quickly added, "I'll bring it back as soon as I'm done."

"Of course." Rong Shen closed the book, his tone gentle and guiding. "Would you mind sharing what makes this book special to you?"

He wasn't sure what had triggered An Tong's episode, but her request made it less straightforward.

A subtle struggle flickered in An Tong's eyes, but Rong Shen was her trusted therapist—she had no reason to avoid his question.

Steeling herself, she spoke candidly, "An Xianghuai... is my father. We don't have this book at home. I wanted to copy it and read it slowly."

Her voice was calm and gentle, but uttering the name 'An Xianghuai' was arduous.

Rong Shen said nothing, his inscrutable gaze lingering on An Tong.

Everything seemed to make sense now.

She suffered from a serious illness, yet enjoyed writing programming code—perhaps influenced by her father, the translator.

Rong Shen rose slowly and handed her the book. "I've already read it and likely won't again. No need to copy it, take it home and keep it."

An Tong hesitated, turning it over to check the price. "No, let me..."

His deep, dark eyes held a smile, as if he understood her intent, and he interrupted playfully, "It's just an old book. There are plenty more in the study. If you want to read anything else, come and take it anytime. Consider it me entrusting it to you for safekeeping."

His calm and steady words eased An Tong's concerns.

A rare, out-of-print translation—any book lover would never part with it lightly.

Yet Rong Shen offered it in a way she couldn't refuse.

As An Tong stroked the worn cover, her heart was full of emotion.

After a long while, she looked up, meeting his gaze, and thanked him sincerely, "Then... if you ever need it, I'll return it at once."

He smiled and agreed, then picked up the teapot and refilled her cup. "Liking books is good, but remember not to get too lost in them."

His 'lost' likely had another meaning.

An Tong glanced at the name 'An Xianghuai' and responded softly, "I'll remember."

Perhaps the young woman trusted every word he said, for Rong Shen couldn't help but observe her expression closely.

Even her casual responses were never perfunctory.

She was a simple, unworldly girl.

...

Time slipped quickly into midday.

An Tong sat by the window, reading, while Rong Shen occasionally sipped tea and handled his affairs.

Neither disturbed the other; both were quietly busy, sharing the room in harmonious silence.

Until a knock sounded, and An Tong looked up in a daze, seeing the clock had reached ten past twelve.

Outside, two attendants pushed in a meal cart, bowing respectfully. "Master Rong, lunch is ready."

"Mm, send it to the kitchen first," the man instructed calmly, and the attendants obeyed at once.

When they left, An Tong followed Rong Shen into the kitchen.

On the table were four dishes and a soup—nothing fancy, just ordinary home cooking.

They sat together, Rong Shen wiped his hands with a warm towel, and asked pleasantly, "Try it. If it doesn't suit your taste, the kitchen can make something else."

"No need, I'm not picky. I can eat anything." An Tong spread her napkin on her lap and watched Rong Shen pick up his chopsticks, quietly admiring his graceful table manners.

...

At three in the afternoon, Rong Shen left.

An Tong heard the movement from the study and returned to the living room, only to find it empty.

She looked out the window and unexpectedly saw the man sitting in the courtyard, legs crossed, smoking.

Under the clear sky and bright sun, smoke drifted around him, blurring the sharp lines of his handsome face.

An Tong gazed absentmindedly outside, almost missing the vibration of her phone.

Seeing the caller, she smiled and answered.

"Sweetheart, I'm at the airport. I'll land in thirteen hours."

An Tong frowned in surprise. "Wasn't it the flight on the third?"

"Work changed last minute, didn't feel like waiting. Just tell me if you're coming."

Amid the noise from the other end, An Tong's tone grew lively. "I'll come. Send me your flight number, I'll get to the airport early."

As she finished speaking, steady footsteps sounded behind her.

An Tong hung up, turned around, and heard Rong Shen's question, "Do you have business at the airport?"

"Not now," An Tong shook her head. "I'm going tomorrow morning to pick someone up."

Rong Shen walked into the living room, asking no further, and instead remarked graciously, "It's good to stay in touch with friends."

Something crossed An Tong's mind, and she smiled. "Actually, I don't have many friends. She's one of the rare few who never minds my illness and treats me so well. But she's busy, so it's hard to see her often."

He noted the unusual tone in her voice and even his expression softened.

As an emotional patient, such fluctuations were rare in An Tong.

If the friend were a woman, all would be well. If a man... certain things couldn't go further.

Rong Shen's gaze grew darker, but he replied in a casual, conversational manner, "Sounds like a friend worth cherishing."

Perhaps influenced by him, An Tong unconsciously spoke her true feelings. "Yes, aside from you, Doctor Rong, she's the only one who stays with me during my episodes—like a sister... my best friend."