Chapter 8

Cui Shan pushed Lu Chongjin out to take care of some business.

Tang Yajun went back to the courtyard, washed her face, and glanced in the mirror as she wiped it dry. She couldn’t help but sigh—this body’s original owner really was beautiful.

An oval face, willow brows, limpid almond-shaped eyes like clear spring water.

Her figure was even better—slim, supple waist that only made the fullness of her chest stand out more.

It was the kind of beauty people traditionally praised, like a glamorous woman stepped straight out of an old Shanghai poster.

In this era, when most people were still busy just trying to have enough to eat and wear, this face was shockingly stunning.

Tang Yajun secretly sighed. If this shell of hers had been born in modern times, she could at least have made it as a C-list actress.

Earlier she had asked and learned that Lu Chongjin wouldn’t be back for a while, so she locked the courtyard gate and the house door, then entered her personal space—the research institute.

She went straight to her dorm. Researchers often worked day and night, so her advisor had specially arranged for her to have her own dorm with a private bathroom.

She soaked in a hot bath, then changed into pajamas, curled up on the sofa, and munched on snacks.

But no matter how much she snacked, her mind kept circling back to what Old Doctor Hu had said, and the food lost its flavor.

Right now she had no steady source of income—basically an unemployed drifter.

She couldn’t just leave the Lu family and run off to Yunnan-Guizhou to find Tang Yashan.

She could wait—but her big brother couldn’t.

So now she had no choice but to pin her hopes on Lu Chongjin. If she could heal him, wouldn’t it be so much easier to ask him to deliver medicine for her brother later?

Some of the reagents already developed in the lab could help the body improve its own functions and heal wounds.

But whether they would work on someone with an injury like Lu Chongjin’s, Tang Yajun really didn’t know.

The only way to find out was to try. Resolute, she took two vials of reagent before leaving.

When she got back, he hadn’t returned yet, so she lay on the bed to rest.

Half asleep, she heard him come back. After he washed up and lay down, Tang Yajun opened her eyes, got up under the pretense of being thirsty, and poured herself water—while also bringing him a cup.

Lu Chongjin was a little surprised—she’d never done that before. He accepted it, drank, and found the water uncommonly sweet.

Tang Yajun climbed back into bed, turned toward him.

“I want to try something to help you,” she whispered in his ear, her breath brushing lightly.

Tonight, her saintly heart was overflowing—she wanted to heal him. That way, if she needed to ask him for help later, she could do it with an easy conscience.

And if he really couldn’t recover, well, keeping him by her side as a companion wasn’t so bad either.

Lu Chongjin thought back to how she had cried in front of Doctor Hu earlier that day asking about his illness, and his heart gave a tremor.

If she truly cared only about his health… if she genuinely wanted to give him a child?

Even though reason told him not to, he still nodded.

Seeing him agree, Tang Yajun gently slipped her hand under his covers, moving downward.

Lu Chongjin’s heart trembled, but he forced himself to remain calm, to suppress his body’s response.

She nestled against his side, trying different ways with her fingers.

He silently endured, allowing himself to diffuse the sensation sparked by her touch.

Tang Yajun’s hand grew sore, but she still couldn’t get the result she wanted.

She was approaching this entirely with a physician’s mindset.

While secretly impressed by his natural “endowment,” she couldn’t help but sigh in regret—seemed he really was incapable.

Then a thought struck her: what if it was only her he had no reaction to?

She remembered Fu Peirong’s way of addressing him.

Leaning close, she softened her voice, exhaled warmly against his ear, and called sweetly: “Jin-gege.”

This was the name Fu Peirong had called him for over a decade—yet when it suddenly came from Tang Yajun’s lips, sticky-sweet and laced with her own warm breath, it struck like a spark.

The fragile restraint he’d been clinging to shattered, and his body reacted.

Tang Yajun snatched her hand back like it was burned.

So that was it—while she was seriously testing him, he’d been thinking of his little childhood sweetheart.

No wonder there’d been no reaction at first—the problem wasn’t the body, it was the person. Serves him right. May he never stand up again.

Cursing him silently, she stomped off to wash her hands, then climbed back into bed and turned her back to him.

Lu Chongjin lay there, cursing himself for failing to hold back that last bit.

Softly, he said, “It’s my fault.”

“Right, it is your fault. I get it, it’s not something you can control. But I won’t forgive you.”

With that, she turned over and went to sleep.

The next morning, to avoid awkwardness, neither mentioned it.

At breakfast, Tang Yajun again had him drink a cup of water laced with reagent.

In front of outsiders—especially with the Fu family still visiting—they needed to keep up appearances.

She personally pushed Lu Chongjin out for a walk in the neighboring courtyard.

Behind them came quick, light steps. Dressed up in bright, showy clothes, Fu Peirong ran over.

“Jin-gege, I picked these flowers fresh, they’re for you.”

She bent, holding them out to him.

Tang Yajun blocked her hand. “Don’t you know he’s allergic to pollen?”

She pushed Fu Peirong back a little.

“Jin-gege, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Is this a recent allergy? Before, I gave you flowers and you were fine…” Fu Peirong asked, eyes brimming with tears.

“Yes, it started after he got sick this year,” Tang Yajun lied smoothly.

Lu Chongjin was already weary of her crying at the drop of a hat.

But hearing her keep calling him “Jin-gege” suddenly reminded him of last night.

With a low, rough voice he said, “Peirong, from now on, just call me ‘gege.’”

“All right, gege.” She brightened instantly, taking the new form of address as a kind of compensation.

Smug, she shot Tang Yajun a triumphant look, then said goodbye to Lu Chongjin and skipped away.

Tang Yajun, baffled by the glare, turned to glance at Lu Chongjin, who had gone silent again.

So that was it—he wouldn’t let Fu Peirong call him “Jin-gege” anymore because last night she had called him that, tainting the name. To him, only a more intimate “gege” would do now.

Well, she wasn’t about to let him get his way. Leaning close, she deliberately softened her voice: “Jin-gege.”

He shot her a look.

“Jin-gege,” she repeated.

His ears flushed red.

She mistook his silence for stubborn pretending, so she called even louder: “Jin-gege!”

“Why are you calling him that again? Didn’t you hear? He just said I shouldn’t call him that anymore!”

Fu Peirong’s sudden voice cut in from behind.

Lu Chongjin quickly pulled a jacket from the back of the wheelchair over his lap.

“So what if I call him that? It’s our special pet name as husband and wife. You wouldn’t understand. That’s why he won’t let you use it.”

“You!” Fu Peirong burst into tears again and ran off.

Tang Yajun felt satisfied for once, finally having scored a win. She even teased Lu Chongjin—should she push him after her to console her?

He muttered a low refusal—this time even his earlobes had gone red.

Noticing something was off, Tang Yajun lifted the jacket and spotted the bulge underneath.

She nearly laughed in exasperation.