The scenery blurred past the car window, but Jianglai no longer cared. All she wanted was to reclaim her foot. They’d agreed to just check the swelling on her ankle—yet Xu Ruobing refused to let go.

Jianglai’s entire focus locked onto Xu Ruobing’s restless hand. It gripped her foot firmly, crossing clear boundaries. She should’ve pulled away immediately.

But the cool touch of those slender fingers against her bare sole sent heat flooding through her. A strange thrill sparked deep in her chest. Every sense dialed to maximum. Every nerve tautened. Xu Ruobing’s slightest movement magnified tenfold—the brush of a fingertip, the shift of skin—each sensation unnervingly vivid.

Yet Xu Ruobing never truly overstepped. At most, she cradled Jianglai’s smooth, jade-like foot, occasionally tracing idle circles on her arch with a fingertip. She even pulled out her phone, scrolling through nail polish shades for toes.

Jianglai nearly jumped. *This is my foot—why does it feel like she owns it?* And after hours in shoes, even in winter… shouldn’t it smell? Yet Xu Ruobing treated it like a treasure.

“This isn’t your foot,” Jianglai muttered. “Even if I search polishes online, I won’t let you paint it.”

Xu Ruobing merely smiled, gently pinching Jianglai’s toes. “Miss Jiang’s foot was hurt because of me. I have a duty—and a right—to care for her. Her owner clearly doesn’t cherish her.” Her thumb brushed the angry red swelling. “Even an injured foot deserves to choose who treats her best.”

The words carried double meaning: *No one tended to this wound… just like no one tends to you. If the most important person in your life won’t cherish you, walk away.*

Jianglai’s nature was straightforward as they come—kind, fiercely responsible, with little guile. She’d risked her life for a near-stranger who’d teased her twice. Such rigid principles made her easy to trap with expectations. She’d endure a loveless marriage for the sake of reputation.

*If she were happy,* Xu Ruobing reasoned, *she wouldn’t drown sorrows in a bar. Wouldn’t nearly sleep with a stranger. Wouldn’t wear no wedding ring.* Goodness like Jianglai’s invited exploitation.

Xu Ruobing vowed to free her. And if opportunity arose… well, that’d be ideal.

But Jianglai missed the subtext entirely. She only felt Xu Ruobing’s possessive gaze on her foot—and saw genuine concern beneath it. That worry alone made her forgive the boldness.

The two policewomen dropped them at the hospital entrance before rushing back to file reports. Tomorrow’s statement awaited Xu Ruobing. Now, Jianglai had only her.

*I don’t need help,* Jianglai thought stubbornly. *It’s just a sprain.*

She tried to stand—only for Xu Ruobing to press her firmly back down.

Trapped on the corridor bench, Jianglai watched Xu Ruobing scramble. A baseball cap, plain glasses, and black mask formed a “perfect disguise” that drew more stares than her bare face ever would.

Clueless, Xu Ruobing barged straight toward a doctor’s office—only to be redirected by a nurse to registration. *Of course,* Jianglai realized. *A top star never queues for appointments.* Seeing the idol fumble like this tugged a faint smile onto her lips.

An hour of Xu Ruobing’s frantic efforts later, they finally saw a doctor. Ten seconds of examination revealed a simple sprain. The specialist, baffled, even checked for hidden injuries. After thorough tests, she scolded Xu Ruobing: “A basic sprain doesn’t need an expert. You wasted money and resources.”

Xu Ruobing hung her head, apologizing like any ordinary person—just one utterly lost in hospitals.

Outside, Jianglai held a fresh bottle of safflower oil. She glanced at Xu Ruobing shadowing her. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I’m going home now… will you follow me there too?”

Xu Ruobing’s eyes lit up. She nodded lightly. “What if your ankle gives way again on the way? Let me take you home.”

*Then I’ll finally meet the person you cherish so deeply—the one good enough to reject me.*