Chapter 19

Mianmian: [Then does that mean all of my husband’s time from now on belongs to me?]
Joice: [Mm.]
Mianmian: [Okay, next is Q&A time. You have to answer honestly.]
Ji Zhou had assumed she would ask about family members, dating history, or financial status—after all, those were things couples should be transparent about.
However—
Mianmian: [Do you like white or black?]
Ji Zhou: […]
Was this about preferences?
Joice: [White.]
Mianmian: [Do you like long hair or short hair?]
Joice: [Either is fine.]
He felt that whether a girl wore long hair or short hair, she had the right to choose for herself. No one else should define which one was “prettier.”
Mianmian: [Then do you like someone bolder or more conservative?]
Ji Zhou tilted his head and thought for a moment: [I like your type.]
Mianmian: [Did your clumsy mouth get blessed today?]
Joice: [Isn’t that good?]
Mianmian: [Very good. I love it to death.]
Mianmian: [[Image]]
The image was a mirror selfie. The lighting was dim. The girl sat in a low beanbag chair, her phone covering her face. Black long hair rested on her shoulders, and a pair of fluffy cat ears sat atop her head. Her naturally crossed legs wore white lace garter stockings, with straps extending upward from her thighs. Visually, it looked as if she wore only those stockings. Her tightly closed legs kept her from exposing anything private, while one high heel hung from her pointed foot, about to slip off but not quite—irresistibly suggestive.
Joice: [Is this you?]
Mianmian: [?]
Mianmian: [Who else would it be?]
Joice: [I thought it was a model.]
Mianmian: [I’ll take that as you saying I’m pretty.]
Joice: [Mm.]
Mianmian: [I actually bought black ones too. Husband, want to see?]
Mianmian: [I really want you to tear them apart with your own hands.]
Perhaps good news really did lift the spirit. Ji Zhou had been in a fairly good mood these two days. Falling in love and finding a new place to stay had swept away the gloom he had carried before.
Even his colleagues could see the change in him.
Liu Zhen had joked with him earlier: “So did Brother Ji make up with his girlfriend, or did his girlfriend make up with him?”
The moment Ji Zhou heard the words “girlfriend,” he thought of Mianmian. His expression softened unconsciously. “She coaxed me.”
On Wednesday morning, the little girl with the tiny crown came again. Last time she had only filled two teeth; today she needed more.
“Uncle,” the little girl called obediently after sitting in the dental chair.
The two were already very familiar, so her fear of treatment had eased a lot.
Ji Zhou bent down to her eye level, smiling with curved eyes. “I have a little bear hair clip today. Do you like it?”
The girl’s eyes lit up as she nodded hard.
Ji Zhou said, “Then can you be brave again today, like last time?”
She answered firmly, “Yes!”
Ji Zhou praised softly, “Good girl.”
The nurse put the bib on her while Ji Zhou sat nearby putting on gloves.
This time, the person accompanying the little girl was not her mother, but another fairly young woman.
She tilted her head to look at Ji Zhou. Ji Zhou raised his eyes and met her gaze directly. The woman froze, then looked away in flustered embarrassment and asked the girl, “Mianmian, are you scared?”
Hearing that, Ji Zhou smiled and asked, “Mianmian—is that a nickname? Which ‘mian’ character?”
Since the name on the little patient’s record was Liu Zitong, Ji Zhou casually asked one extra question.
The woman answered, “The ‘mian’ from sleep.”
Perhaps because of her previous experience, Mianmian didn’t cry at all during treatment today. When she felt discomfort, she only frowned tightly.
With such high cooperation from the little patient, everything went very smoothly. After finishing, Ji Zhou, as always, gave her a bravery gift.
Mianmian loved it and grinned. “Uncle, can you be my uncle-in-law?”
The woman beside her instantly blushed to her ears and stammered, “Mianmian, don’t talk nonsense. What do kids know?”
Mianmian said, “Mom said she wanted Uncle Ji to be my uncle-in-law. I agreed.”
Ji Zhou laughed softly and crouched in front of her, gently saying, “Can’t do that, because uncle already has a girlfriend.”
The woman said awkwardly, “Sorry, Dr. Ji.”
Ji Zhou: “It’s okay.”
After work that evening, he got a call from Chen Huai, who said he had fought with his girlfriend and wanted to drink.
Of course Ji Zhou wouldn’t abandon his friend at a time like this.
They set a location, and Ji Zhou drove over.
It was the quiet bar they used to go to often.
On stage, someone was singing a lingering love song, the melancholy almost enough to make Chen Huai cry.
“I really don’t get it. It was just one movie. If we missed this time, we could go next time. Why get angry?” Chen Huai muttered. “She even said we should break up. Over such a tiny thing—is that necessary?”
Ji Zhou propped his head in one hand, listening to him complain, then casually said, “This isn’t your first time.”
Chen Huai: …
“Isn’t dating about compromising with each other? I had something urgent yesterday and explained it properly. Today I even bought flowers to appease her. Great—she threw me out directly.”
Ji Zhou: “This isn’t your first time.”
Chen Huai: “Can you say something else?”
Ji Zhou: “What I mean is, you make the same mistake every time, then use the same method every time to make up. Even your apologies have no sincerity. You’re not compromising with her—she’s the one who has always been compromising with you.”
Chen Huai was rebutted into silence.
After a pause, he said, “Then what am I supposed to do? Write a 500-word self-criticism?”
Ji Zhou thought seriously for a moment and said, “A thousand. Considering your crimes are too numerous to record.”
Chen Huai: …
He took another big gulp of alcohol and stubbornly said, “No way! Back in school I couldn’t even write an 800-word essay, let alone a self-criticism.”