Chapter 85: Xiaoxiao Is Truly Remarkable

Zuo Lan and Song Qingfeng exchanged a glance. Both were well aware of Zhong Xiao’s former status as a capitalist heiress and, therefore, did not doubt the truth in her words at all. Moreover, Zhong Xiao was new here, unfamiliar with Yuan Tianqing, and had never had any conflict with her—there was simply no reason for Zhong Xiao to frame Yuan Tianqing.

Seeing the certainty in Zhong Xiao’s eyes, Zuo Lan and Song Qingfeng already had a rough idea of where the truth lay. After a moment of contemplation, Song Qingfeng finally spoke: “If it’s really as Xiaoxiao said, Yuan Tianqing, as the head surgical nurse, often comes into contact with our soldiers and officers at the hospital—especially Wang Erhu from the artillery regiment, who’s frequently seen around the surgical wards.”

“Wang Erhu is a straightforward, careless sort—he has no filter and says whatever comes to mind. Years ago, he even got into a fight for chatting about someone’s private business in the dormitory and was disciplined for it.”

Wang Erhu was the commander of the Third Artillery Regiment, the very one who’d nearly gotten into a verbal spat with Hou Manling earlier. Hearing Song Qingfeng bring this up, Zuo Lan suddenly recalled that before Song Qingfeng and the others went out on assignment, she had indeed noticed Yuan Tianqing and Wang Erhu growing quite close.

More than once, she’d seen the two of them conversing in the corridors—Wang Erhu talking animatedly, Yuan Tianqing smiling and soothing him. At the time, she’d simply assumed Wang Erhu was complaining about his wife again. After all, Wang Erhu’s wife was infamous in the military district for her temper; their quarrels were legendary, audible throughout the entire family compound.

Wang Erhu was thoroughly henpecked, never daring to say a word in front of his wife, so he often vented outside before mustering the energy to coax her anew at home.

As for Yuan Tianqing, Zuo Lan knew her well—her greatest skill was comforting others, helping them untangle their worries. So, seeing the two of them chatting, Zuo Lan had never given it a second thought.

But now, a sudden wariness struck her. Was it possible that Yuan Tianqing’s talent for comforting others and getting along with everyone was, in fact, part of her strategy? Precisely because of this, she could pick up one or two key pieces of information in the course of seemingly casual conversation, then piece them together into a web of possibilities. These could then be handed to the enemy’s intelligence department for targeted analysis.

At the thought, Zuo Lan felt a chill run down her spine. All along, they’d been focused solely on military matters, ignoring such a gaping vulnerability. Human interaction could never form an impenetrable wall; if someone with ulterior motives exploited this, the consequences would be unimaginable.

Noticing the change in their expressions, Zhong Xiao was about to say more when suddenly Song Tingshen’s pinched voice echoed in her ear:

“Xiaoxiao is amazing!”

“She’s truly omniscient, omnipotent, capable of anything.”

“How many more surprises does Xiaoxiao have in store that I don’t know about?”

Zhong Xiao: “…”

Zuo Lan looked at her with concern. “Xiaoxiao, what’s wrong? Why do you have goosebumps all over your arms? Are you cold?”

She glanced outside at the blazing sun, even more perplexed. “It’s so hot, why are you getting goosebumps?”

Song Qingfeng also stood up, concern in his voice. “You’re not coming down with something, are you?”

“Is she ill? Did Xiaoxiao catch a cold? Was it because of the rain that day?” Song Tingshen’s inner voice rang out again, full of guilt. “I should have gone back to bring her some medicine that day. It’s my fault—I couldn’t bring myself to do it, but what was there to lose, really?”

But soon, Song Tingshen spoke aloud, still in his usual indifferent, detached tone: “There’s cold medicine at home. I’ll go get it.”

Zhong Xiao looked at him, feeling as if he were about to split in two.

Zuo Lan, however, said, “I touched Xiaoxiao’s forehead—she’s not feverish. No need to rush to take medicine. Too much of it can make you resistant, which is not good. Shen, go to the kitchen and make her some ginger tea. Slice some fresh ginger and simmer it gently.”

Song Tingshen glanced at Zhong Xiao, muttering, “What a bother.”

Zuo Lan chided gently, “Now, what kind of way is that to talk?”

But in Zhong Xiao’s ear, she heard—

“Off to make ginger tea for Xiaoxiao!”

Zhong Xiao: “…”

—

Ten minutes later, Song Tingshen emerged from the kitchen, carrying a bowl of ginger tea. All the way over, Zhong Xiao could hear his persistent inner voice:

“So hot, so hot—why is it so hot?”

“Will it burn Xiaoxiao? Her skin’s so delicate.”

Soon, Song Tingshen stood before Zhong Xiao, his tone as cool and aloof as ever.

“Drink.”

Having grown accustomed to Song Tingshen’s contradictions, Zhong Xiao was suddenly struck by a mischievous impulse and decided to tease him.

She said deliberately, “It looks really hot. I’m afraid of burning myself—I don’t dare drink it.”

Sure enough, his inner voice responded, “Of course Xiaoxiao’s scared of the heat. Should I cool it for her?”

“But wouldn’t that look ridiculous?”

“Nonsense, there’s no way I’d blow on her ginger tea.”

Zhong Xiao pressed, “Commander Song, could you blow on it for me?”

She looked up, deliberately watching for his reaction.

Song Tingshen gave her a glance, then picked up the bowl again. “Alright.”

Zuo Lan and Song Qingfeng, off to the side, were stunned.

Heaven bear witness—they’d raised Song Tingshen for twenty-seven years and had never seen him do such a thing for anyone. Even when Song Yanzhou had been paralyzed and asked him to peel some fruit, he’d retorted, “Your legs are paralyzed, not your hands. Why should I do it for you?” That had nearly led Song Yanzhou to sever their brotherly ties.

Yet here was that very same man, making ginger tea and blowing on it for Zhong Xiao without so much as a murmur of complaint. Even though his face remained as cold as ever, the more they looked at him, the more they sensed a trace of… secret delight?

“Song Tingshen, you’re hopeless.”

“So what if I am? She asked me herself—what else could I do?”

Hearing his thoughts, Zhong Xiao watched Song Tingshen quietly. From his seemingly calm expression, she caught a subtle hint of something more.

Without betraying her suspicion, she lowered her gaze, but in her heart she wondered if she might just be right.

If so…

This could get very interesting indeed.