The bald man shot her a disdainful glance and muttered, “Well, well, now it’s my fault, huh?”  

Ruan Qingzhi chuckled softly.  

The man raised his hand to pour himself another bowl of tea and brought it to his lips—only to be stopped halfway by Ruan Qingzhi.  

Her youthful brows furrowed seriously. “Uncle, don’t drink any more.”  

The man gestured toward the window with his head. “It’s fine. It’s hot out—easy to get thirsty. Drinking more water helps you sweat, acts as a detox.”  

Ruan Qingzhi sighed, reached out, and grabbed his wrist, pressing her fingertips against the inside. “I studied traditional Chinese medicine with my grandmother for a few years. Let me check your pulse…”  

She focused, carefully sensing the man’s pulse.  

After a long moment, she frowned and said, “You usually sweat a lot, have trouble sleeping, feel thirsty often, urinate frequently, and experience pain when you pee.”  

The bald man froze, then wiped the sweat from his forehead. “How’d you know…?”  

Spotting a pencil and an inventory slip on the table, Ruan Qingzhi grabbed them.  

She quickly scribbled a prescription on a blank corner, tore it off, and handed it to him. “Uncle, take this prescription to get the herbs. Boil three bowls of water down to one, take it before meals morning and night. You’ll see results in seven days.”  

The man took the prescription skeptically, glanced at it, and read under his breath, “Poria cocos, 11 grams; Polyporus umbellatus, 10 grams…”  

Ruan Qingzhi’s gaze fell on his swollen legs and continued, “Fluid retention in the lower burner, a floating and agitated pulse, unresolved surface pathogens—this is a disorder of water metabolism. You’ve had these thirst symptoms for three years now, right?”  

The man was stunned. “You can even tell that?”  

“Of course!”  

“If you take the medicine on time, you’ll recover quickly.”  

In a hurry to leave, Ruan Qingzhi gave him one last reminder before saying goodbye and heading out of the restaurant with her things.  

After the girl left, the man mimicked her earlier gesture, pressing three fingers against his own pulse, craning his neck to concentrate—  

A few seconds later, he awkwardly let go.  

He couldn’t feel a thing.  

Wasn’t a pulse just your heart beating?  

How could she tell from that that he had painful, dribbling urination?  

Just as the man began wondering if his face had the words written on it, his round belly let out a loud gurgle…  

He instinctively glanced at the bowl of congee on the table…  

Truth was, he’d already drunk a lot of water.  

He wasn’t hungry at all!  

But damn, that congee smelled amazing, teasing his appetite awake.  

If it smelled this good, he could only imagine how it tasted… The man coughed a few times, cleared his throat, rubbed his nose, and then casually reached over to pick up the bowl.  

With just one bite, his eyes instantly lit up.  

What the—?  

This congee was delicious!  

The texture—every soft, velvety grain of rice seemed coated in savory salted egg yolk, melting in his mouth, while the shredded meat added a satisfying chew.  

And then the fresh, clean taste of the vegetables lingered…  

After savoring it, the man immediately buried his face in the bowl, downing half of it in just a few gulps.  

So good!  

So freaking good!  

After all his years of cooking, he’d never tasted congee with such rich, layered flavors.  

But what shocked him even more was—  

For the entire afternoon after finishing the congee, he didn’t feel thirsty at all.  

Normally, he’d guzzle three thermoses of water in an afternoon.  

Sometimes, he’d even wake up at night parched.  

Could it be that his thirst was really an illness, just like the girl said?  

With that thought, the man jolted out of bed at midnight, dashed to the yard, fished through the laundry basin for his dirty clothes, and retrieved the prescription.  

Back in his room, he carefully placed the prescription by his bedside.  

First thing tomorrow, he was getting those herbs!  

…

Ruan Qingzhi hurried back to the hospital room.  

Panting slightly, she stood at the doorway, her radiant face breaking into a bright, dazzling smile the moment her eyes landed on Shen Zhanwu.  

Just before she entered, Li Kanshan had been standing up to leave. Seeing her return, he let out a relieved sigh. “Sis-in-law, you’re finally back! If you hadn’t shown up soon, I was about to call the police and file a missing person report.”  

The young girl apologized, “Sorry, I got back late.”  

Li Kanshan waved it off. “No worries, Sis-in-law. Go wash your hands and eat. The deputy battalion commander had me prepare lunch a while ago—we were just waiting for you.”  

As Ruan Qingzhi walked toward the hospital bed, she asked, “What’s for lunch?”  

Li Kanshan pulled over a chair. “Sorghum rice, stir-fried dried tofu with chili peppers, and stewed potatoes with green beans. All solid dishes!”  

Shen Zhanwu watched her approach, the deep worry in his ink-dark eyes already hidden as he asked in a low voice, “Why did it take so long? Did someone give you trouble at the bathhouse? Or did you get lost?”  

Ruan Qingzhi pulled out the lunchbox and handed it to him, her voice sweet and soft. “No one bothered me, and I didn’t get lost. I… made you some congee.”  

“Congee?”  

Shen Zhanwu’s dark brows furrowed slightly as he opened the lunchbox, releasing a rich, savory aroma.  

Inside the aluminum container was a full portion of white congee.  

The rice grains were soft and thick, mixed with plenty of shredded lean meat and dotted with vibrant green vegetables. The scent carried an especially strong, salty richness.  

Just the smell alone was enough to make one’s mouth water.  

Shen Zhanwu stared at the congee, his sharp brow bone tensing slightly, his entire aura dimming as his lips pressed together.  

After proudly presenting the lunchbox, Ruan Qingzhi glanced around the room, observing the changes since she’d left—a habit from her days as a special agent.  

The most obvious difference was the few extra aluminum lunchboxes on the coffee table, alongside a basin of soaked sorghum rice.  

But the most noticeable thing was the bottle of bright orange soda.  

Dewdrops clung to the clear glass, making it look cool and refreshing—perfect for quenching thirst.  

Behind her, Li Kanshan—ever sharp—immediately picked up on the deputy battalion commander’s mood. His eyes darted around before he quickly said, “Ah, Sis-in-law, the soda the deputy battalion commander had me buy for you isn’t cold anymore. I’ll run down to the shop and swap it for an icy one!”  

Grabbing the bottle, he bolted out of the room like a shot.  

Ruan Qingzhi watched his fleeing figure, opening her mouth slightly but not getting a word out in time.  

Honestly, room-temperature would’ve been fine…  

She turned her attention back to Shen Zhanwu.  

He had already set the congee aside on the nightstand, his resolute dark eyes now fixed on her.  

Seeing his expression, Ruan Qingzhi reached out and wrapped her arms around his lean waist.  

She melted against him like soft dough, her voice sugary sweet. “Shen Zhanwu, I love it here! The bathhouse was so nice—the people are great too. You wouldn’t believe it, but the auntie scrubbing me went easy because she thought I was too skinny. And the chef uncle lent me a lunchbox! Oh, and the vegetable vendor gave me a bunch of bok choy for free…”  

The girl in his arms chattered cheerfully, sharing the highlights of her little adventure.  

Shen Zhanwu’s jaw tightened.  

He pulled her back slightly, his dark eyes serious as he stared at her.  

“Ruan Qingzhi!”