She did it on purpose.

Chapter 21

Jian Sang was a renowned figure in Nancheng. For any bone-related issue, after countless referrals, people would ultimately end up at her clinic.

Doctor Jian possessed a unique martial-arts-like technique—bone-setting by touch. With a single palpation, she could determine where the bones were misaligned and reset them with a decisive snap.

"Mom, please check her hand now!"

The sudden "Mom" startled Lin Zhengmo, causing her to straighten her back involuntarily.

No wonder Director Jian had entered the clinic as naturally as if coming home.

So the woman who adopted Director Jian was actually...

Lin Zhengmo looked up, meeting Jian Sang's gentle gaze. The older woman spoke softly, "Let me take a look at your hand, dear."

"Okay."

"This might hurt a bit."

Lin Zhengmo nodded silently. Jian Sang's hands pressed against her, moving up from her wrist and gently pinching along the way, asking if it hurt.

"A little," Lin Zhengmo suddenly said when Jian Sang reached the crook of her elbow. "It hurts here—really bad."

"Mom, go easy..." Jian Yue muttered beside them.

Jian Sang: "?"

Hmph.

She'd never seen her daughter care for someone like this.

Jian Sang chatted with Lin Zhengmo, "What's your name?"

"Lin Zhengmo." Lin Zhengmo replied absently.

"Lin Zhengmo. What subject do you teach, Ms. Lin?"

"English."

Lin Zhengmo answered obediently but couldn't fathom why these trivial questions mattered.

Her hand throbbed painfully as Jian Sang pressed on her ligament, nearing the limit of her tolerance. One more push, and she might cry out.

Jian Sang lightened her touch, placing two fingers on Lin Zhengmo's elbow joint.

With a sigh, she said, "Ms. Lin, this is quite severe. I'm afraid I can't treat it."

Lin Zhengmo's heart jolted. "Ah..."

Before the word fully left her lips, Jian Sang seized the moment. Her fingers pinched inward, and her palm struck the inside of Lin Zhengmo's elbow with a firm slap.

Snap—the clear sound of bones realigning.

The movement was as smooth as flowing water, leaving one in awe of Doctor Jian's "divine bone-setting" skills.

Lin Zhengmo gasped, feeling a tingle through her tendons and bones. The pain vanished instantly, replaced by astonishment: It was magical!

So Jian Sang's "I can't treat it" had been a distraction.

Jian Sang released her hand, saying nonchalantly, "Nothing major—just a minor dislocation, already fixed. But you need to rest, avoid lifting your arm, strenuous exercise, and water for now."

Jian Yue exhaled in relief, "You scared me."

Mom!

Amazing!

"Thank you, Auntie..." Lin Zhengmo felt admiration well up, but her tongue tied up, unable to form elegant words.

Jian Sang saw Lin Zhengmo's sincerity and disliked flattery anyway. She preferred straightforwardness over empty politeness.

"You're welcome."

"Auntie, about the medical fee..."

"You're a friend of Xiaoyue's—no charge."

"Oh, that won't do." Lin Zhengmo felt uneasy. She'd already troubled Director Jian, who'd carried her out of the school gate and rushed her here. Now waiving the fee was too much—she wasn't that thick-skinned.

Jian Yue noticed her dilemma and interjected, "We haven't had dinner yet. Class 1 won, so we should—"

Wait, no. If Class 1 won, she should treat Lin Zhengmo.

Lin Zhengmo quickly caught on, "Since Class 1 won, we should celebrate. Let me treat you to dinner." She turned to Jian Sang, "Auntie, would you join us?"

Jian Sang declined, "I have evening appointments with several patients. Can't make it today."

She lived a healthy life, preferring light meals over oily, salty restaurant food.

Jian Yue decided swiftly, "No problem. Then it's just me and Little Lin today." She added sweetly, "When you're free, I'll invite Little Lin over, and we can have dinner together."

Two dinner invitations in one sentence—Jian Yue was sharp as a tack.

Jian Sang mused inwardly. In all these years, she'd never seen Jian Yue so eager. This colleague was clearly special.

Well, it was good for her to have true friends.

"Alright, you two decide."

Just then, the glass door swung open, and a middle-aged woman entered, holding a crying child.

"Doctor Jian, my baby—"

Doctor Jian had another patient...

Leaving the clinic, Lin Zhengmo still felt astonished.

She'd thought she'd be laid up in the hospital for ten days, but Auntie had fixed her arm with a single snap.

Still disbelieving, she bent and flexed her elbow, lost in her own world.

Jian Yue stole glances at her, the corners of her mouth lifting.

"So, Ms. Lin, what would you like for dinner?"

"Oh right." Lin Zhengmo snapped back, "What do you want, Director Jian?"

She'd rehearsed thanks in her mind a thousand times—Thank you, Director Jian. You're so kind. Your mother is amazing—but couldn't voice a single word.

Clumsy mouth.

So frustrating.

"Hmm..." Jian Yue pondered, then admitted, "Hotpot is too spicy, barbecue too oily, street food too greasy."

Circling around, she had her own agenda.

Looking at Lin Zhengmo, she pressed on, "Since we're both working out, why not have something clean?"

"Okay." Lin Zhengmo took out her phone, thinking Director Jian wanted a healthy meal—maybe a light-food restaurant.

But Jian Yue's next words surprised her: "Come to my place?"

"Huh?" Lin Zhengmo thought she'd misheard. "What did you say?"

"Come to my place," Jian Yue said seriously. "There's so much food in the fridge—it'll go to waste."

Reasonable.

Unassailable.

But wait, wasn't she supposed to treat Director Jian? How did this become a fridge-cleaning mission?

Lin Zhengmo hesitated...

Because this felt like mooching off someone else.

She disliked owing people—even a grain of rice from an acquaintance would weigh on her.

Jian Yue saw her hesitation and offered, "But there are only vegetables in the fridge. You can order some meat online, and we'll cook healthy food together?"

That balanced things. Lin Zhengmo needed to contribute to feel at ease.

"Okay, Director Jian."

Jian Yue mostly lived in the teachers' dormitory, visiting her mother on weekends.

Her mother, Jian Sang, had given her warmth and the freedom to grow.

Their relationship was both maternal and friendly.

Jian Sang had said early on, "Yueyue, you should live outside after starting work. We can live close and visit each other, but I don't want us under the same roof—I'd interfere with your life and pry into your freedom.

"You need your space, and so do I."

Growing up in an orphanage, independence was Jian Yue's first life lesson. Traditional family life felt too cloying.

She was grateful for Jian Sang's understanding.

Yes.

She loved living alone in the teachers' dormitory.

It was relaxing, burden-free.

The dormitory was an old building—white bricks, gray walls, seven stories.

Teachers seemed to share a love for the past, embracing this millennium-era architecture. Their balconies overflowed with jewel flowers, and the air carried the scent of gardenias.

It was like a time capsule. While the world moved on, those inside clung to the shelter of decades past—a form of happiness in its own right.

They ascended the winding stairs.

Director Jian's footsteps went pat-pat—left foot pat, right foot pat—the sound of shoes brushing dust. Lin Zhengmo's steps echoed similarly.

To Lin Zhengmo, attuned to rhythm, their footsteps formed a melody.

"Shredded pork in Beijing sauce, blanched Chinese broccoli, spring bamboo shoot pork ribs..." Director Jian mused. "Little Lin, how about these dishes?"

"I like them all." Lin Zhengmo looked at Jian Yue's shoulders. "By the way, Director Jian, I need to discuss something with you."

Jian Yue stopped and turned back, "What is it?"

"You've been calling me 'Little Lin' lately." Lin Zhengmo thought, if she's calling me Little Lin, I should reciprocate.

"Oh, have I?" Jian Yue's eyes sparkled with a smile. "And...?"

"When we're not at school, can I stop calling you Director Jian?"

"Sure." Jian Yue's smile broadened, full of expectation. "What would you like to call me?"

"Jian..." Lin Zhengmo looked up, a flicker of amusement in her amber eyes—fleeting and enigmatic, as if it had never been there. "Well, Director Jian, since you call me Little Lin, maybe I should call you... Old Jian?"

She did it on purpose.

Old Jian, Old Jian, Old Jian.