The snowy weather made the roads slippery, and the building was bustling with staff coming and going.
The snow tracked in by shoes had already begun to melt.
Preoccupied with her thoughts, Fang Wenjun didn’t pay attention to her steps and suddenly stumbled while descending the stairs.
Fortunately, Jiang Si heard the commotion and swiftly reached out to steady her.
Otherwise, falling from such a high staircase would have had dire consequences.
As it was, Fang Wenjun had no choice but to go to the hospital.
Luckily, the hospital was nearby.
The doctor examined her injury and said, "It’s nothing serious—just a superficial wound on the knee. I’ll prescribe some antiseptic solution for you to apply at home. Just be careful not to let the wound get wet in the next few days."
Fang Wenjun rubbed her ankle. "Doctor, could you also prescribe some medicated wine for bruises?"
The doctor nodded and, while writing the prescription, glanced at the cotton shoes she was wearing.
She had noticed them earlier during the examination.
She couldn’t tell which shoemaker had made them, but the craftsmanship was clearly shoddy.
Out of professional concern, the doctor casually remarked, "The tread on your cotton shoes seems to be less than half-finished. You shouldn’t wear these in snowy weather—they’re prone to slipping."
Less than half-finished?
Fang Wenjun’s face paled slightly, as if struck by a sudden realization.
Only after leaving the examination room did she snap out of her daze. "Xiao Jiang, thank you so much for earlier."
If Jiang Si hadn’t caught her, she would have tumbled headfirst down the stairs.
The consequences would have been far worse than just a minor injury.
"Vice President Fang, you’re too kind," Jiang Si replied.
In that situation, anyone would have helped—let alone a colleague from the same team.
Recalling Fang Wenjun’s tone and expression when she called out to her earlier, Jiang Si asked curiously, "You rushed after me just now—was there something you needed?"
"Yes, I wanted to ask if you know someone named Yu Bai'en."
Jiang Si nodded. He was her first formal art teacher, the one who had introduced her to painting.
"I started learning from him when I was five. After he was transferred back to Capital City, I had to switch to another instructor..."
Midway through her explanation, Jiang Si suddenly realized something. "Vice President Fang, do you know my teacher?"
"Know him? Of course I do!"
Fang Wenjun smiled. "He’s my husband."
Perhaps recalling fond memories, her expression softened as she spoke of him.
"No wonder I felt like I’d heard your name before when we met at the association’s entrance."
"So you’re the ‘student who surpassed the master’ that Lao Yu always spoke so proudly of."
Even after a lifetime of stubborn pride, Fang Wenjun had to admit it now—when it came to judging people, she was no match for Mr. Yu.
Jiang Si was genuinely surprised. She hadn’t expected Vice President Fang to be her teacher’s wife.
"Shimu, then Teacher, he—"
Jiang Si wanted to ask why her teacher had suddenly disappeared without a word for years.
In the first two years after he returned to Capital City, they had still kept in touch.
But after 1963, he unilaterally cut off all contact.
She had even asked her uncle to investigate, but the result was always the same: no trace of him.
Fang Wenjun gently interrupted her with a smile.
"This isn’t the place to discuss it. Your teacher is fine—he just can’t reach out to us for now."
"I’ll explain in detail when we have more time."
Jiang Si nodded.
Just knowing her teacher was safe was enough to bring her relief.
They didn’t linger at the hospital.
Since Jiang Si and Huo Tingzhou had no other commitments, they escorted Fang Wenjun home.
As they reached the entrance of the alley, they spotted Qiu Yashu standing at the gate of the Fang residence.
Seeing Fang Wenjun supported on either side by Jiang Si and Huo Tingzhou, Qiu Yashu’s heart sank with unease.
"Teacher, what happened to your foot? What did the doctor say?"
Fang Wenjun’s expression remained neutral. Without proof, she couldn’t openly accuse anyone.
Still, everyone had their own measure of judgment.
On the way back, Fang Wenjun had mentally reviewed recent events and realized many things didn’t add up upon closer inspection.
Now, hearing Qiu Yashu’s earnest cry of "Teacher," she felt a chill run through her.
"It’s nothing serious. I’ll need to rest for a few days, so there’s no need for you to visit."
"And I’ve told you many times—don’t call me Teacher."
They had once lived in the same tenement courtyard, and Fang Wenjun, noticing the girl had some talent for painting, had taught her for free for a few years.
Later, as the residents scattered, their families gradually lost touch.
It wasn’t until a few years ago that Qiu Yashu’s parents sought her out, saying their daughter wanted to apply to art school and needed tutoring.
Back then, when Yu Bai'en had completely vanished without a trace, she spent her days in a daze.
Just to distract herself, she decided to take on some work and ended up volunteering as a tutor for two more years.
It was from that time onward that she started addressing him as "Master" at every turn.
"I only tutored you for a few years. From now on, please call me Vice President Fang or Teacher Fang when we meet."
"Mas—"
Qiu Yashu wanted to say more, but one sharp glance from Fang Wenjun silenced her instantly.
Fang Wenjun paid her no further mind, instead pulling Jiang Si and Huo Tingzhou aside to give them a few earnest reminders.
The three spoke in hushed tones, and Qiu Yashu couldn’t catch a single word.
Yet, deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her master was definitely gossiping about her behind her back.
After all, she wore the same expression when she gossiped about others.
And Qiu Yashu’s intuition was spot-on—Fang Wenjun was indeed talking about her.
"That girl spends all day dreaming about how to climb the social ladder, not a single thought devoted to the right path."
"While you’re in the group, be careful. Don’t fall into her traps."
"Especially your hands—you must protect them well."
"Be mindful of what you eat and drink, and never accept anything from others."
Though Jiang Si didn’t understand the rift between the two, she was someone who heeded advice.
If her mentor’s wife said so, there had to be a good reason.
Huo Tingzhou also took the words to heart. That night, as they lay in bed, he shared his thoughts with her.
When he mentioned accompanying her to the group every day, Jiang Si didn’t object.
She’d been feeling lonely working alone, and having someone to talk to sounded nice.
But still: "What about your rehabilitation? Won’t it affect your health?"
"It won’t."
Huo Tingzhou pulled her closer, his voice low and rough.
"Whether I’m in good health or not—you should know better than anyone—"
"……" Jiang Si’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.
Was this even the same man she knew?
But when she noticed the tips of his ears burning red, she understood.
She knew, but she wasn’t about to let him off the hook.
With her period as a shield, her courage was at an all-time high.
That’s right—her delayed visitor had arrived just as Huo Tingzhou stepped into the shower.
Unaware, Huo Tingzhou soon grew restless under Jiang Si’s teasing touches.
As his breathing grew heavier in her ear, Jiang Si knew she’d pushed far enough.
Burying her face in the crook of his neck, she whispered the truth about her monthly visitor.
"……" Huo Tingzhou stiffened.
After a long pause, he nipped her lip hard. "I’ll let it slide this time. But next time…"
Seemingly recalling something, he let out a resigned chuckle.
"Does it hurt here?"
As he asked, his large hand settled gently over her lower abdomen.
His palm was warm—far more comforting than a heating pad.
Jiang Si shook her head and pecked his lips lightly.
Knowing she’d gone too far, she leaned close to his ear before sleep finally took them.
With just one sentence, she left him utterly disarmed.
