One Hundred Ways to Knock Down the Doctor - Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Perhaps out of consideration for my morning grumpiness, Zhao Chunian didn’t come knocking on my door until nine o’clock the next morning.

He even brought breakfast.

I was only halfway through my meal when I received an enthusiastic greeting from Ms. Zhao.

She covered everything-from how our progress went yesterday to what time we’d be arriving home today; from what little Zhao liked to eat to reminding me that since he was a guest, I should tell him absolutely not to bring any gifts.

She laid out every detail with meticulous care.

My phone’s speakers were leaking sound quite a bit, so I simply switched it to speakerphone.

Once Ms. Zhao had finished her piece, I finally told her that the “little Zhao” she was talking about was sitting right next to me.

Ms. Zhao’s voice transformed instantly.

If her tone toward me was stern and cautionary, the moment she addressed Zhao Chunian, it became as warm and gentle as a spring breeze.

She asked Zhao Chunian what he liked to eat while telling him not to rush and to take his time, even reminding him not to be nervous.

Zhao Chunian agreed to everything, looking the very picture of a modest, gentle, and courteous gentleman.

Ms. Zhao hung up the phone, satisfied.

Zhao Chunian waited for me to dawdle through the rest of my breakfast and then waited for me to procrastinate while changing my clothes.

Eventually, I ran out of excuses.

He even grabbed my keys for me.

Later, Zhao Chunian told me that my expression when returning to my own home was that of someone marching toward a noble death, but by the time we reached his place, it had shifted to one of complete resignation.

I think calling it resignation is sugarcoating it. To be precise, it should be called the numbness of a dead pig that doesn’t fear boiling water.

At my house, Zhao Chunian received the highest level of hospitality from Ms. Zhao and Mr. Gu.

Mr. Gu even opened a bottle of Feitian Moutai from his long-held private collection for the occasion.

After two drinks, the conversation at the dinner table shifted to when we were getting our marriage certificate, when the wedding banquet would be, and when we’d have two kids in three years.

I felt that if my dad hadn’t been given that extra dish of peanuts to snack on, he wouldn’t have dared to be so bold.

The meal was a delight for both host and guest, thanks to Zhao Chunian’s flawlessly perfect gentlemanly demeanor.

Ms. Zhao served a fruit platter to the two men and then pulled me into the kitchen.

“What’s the deal between you two?”

“I went to the hospital to register for an appointment about my irregular periods, and I ended up getting his slot.”

“And then?”

“Then I found out he lives right next door to me.”

“So?”

“So we got to know each other and went mountain climbing together.”

“And after the mountain climbing?”

“After that, we’re here.”

Ms. Zhao: “…”

Though I hate to admit it, the look Ms. Zhao gave me conveyed only one message: I had my snacks ready for a good story, and this is all you give me?

In the living room, the topic had already progressed to the bride price, the dowry, and which brand to buy for the “three golds” traditional jewelry.

At least Mr. Gu’s remaining shred of sanity was telling him that I was his biological daughter, not a head of cabbage at a roadside stall that he should pay someone to take away.

Zhao Chunian had my father wrapped around his finger and my mother beaming with joy. He vowed that it was love at first sight for him and that he wouldn’t marry anyone else in this life.

When it was time to leave, he produced two bottles of liquor, two cartons of cigarettes, a box of milk, and two boxes of tea out of nowhere and left them at our front door.

I glanced at Ms. Zhao and felt like she was very tempted to make me grab my household registration booklet right then and there to go to the Civil Affairs Bureau with Zhao Chunian.

On the way back, Zhao Chunian asked me if I wanted to go see a movie next week.

Based on the logic that since mountain climbing had already been that intense, a movie couldn’t possibly result in any more crazy drama, I fearlessly agreed.

But as it turns out, you cannot use common sense to predict the logic of a hardcore straight man.

He really can stir up drama.

My first date with my dream guy started with mountain climbing and ended with meeting my parents.

And my second date with my dream guy started with holding hands at the movies and ended with meeting his parents.

Yes, his parents-my nominal future in-laws.

In the second week of knowing Zhao Chunian, he quite brazenly took an utterly unprepared me to his home.

After the movie that day, he gave me two choices.

Either go to his place for dinner or go to the mall for shopping.

I must clarify that here, Zhao Chunian very craftily used the ambiguous concept of “his place.”

I naturally assumed we were going back to his own apartment, and just like last time, it would be just the two of us and he would cook for me.

If we could have a little “fast driving” before or after the meal-some kissing, hugging, and being swept off my feet-that would have been perfect.

As it turned out, the guy didn’t take me to the supermarket, nor did he take me anywhere that sold groceries.

Instead, he drove me straight to an unfamiliar residential complex.

If I hadn’t known where he worked, I would have thought he was a human trafficker kidnapping a “blooming old girl.”

While we were in the elevator, I was still stupidly asking him when he had bought a second property and if doctors’ salaries were really that high.

As it turned out, he didn’t even pull out his keys; he just rang the doorbell.

Inside was a bustling family scene, a picture-perfect domestic tableau that proceeded to bombard my walnut-sized brain and my rather peculiar worldview.

The nurse he called “Sis” brought me slippers. The steady-looking gentleman he called “Brother-in-law” shook my hand. A little boy he called Lele rushed over, hugged my leg, and said, “Auntie, you’re finally here!”

Then there was the lady who poked her head out of the kitchen, whom Zhao Chunian called “Mom.” She told me to make myself at home with a kind, gentle face.

And finally, the man who stepped out of the study, whom Zhao Chunian called “Dad.” He led me to the sofa with a beaming smile.

I was dumbstruck and utterly at a loss. Sitting on that sofa felt like sitting on a bed of nails. I answered whatever they asked purely on instinct, my brain completely bypassed.

Zhao Chunian’s sister asked if I wanted to see his room. She said she knew where all of my dream guy’s embarrassing childhood photos were and could dig them all out for me to see-for free, no charge.

A biological sister selling out her brother without hesitation; Zhao Chunian’s face turned green.

I followed her into the room my dream guy used to live in, only then realizing what I was about to face.

To put it simply, it was very much in Zhao Chunian’s style: bright, clean, cozy, yet ascetic.

His sister hauled three thick photo albums out of her own room, spread them across his bed, and started flipping through them with me page by page.

Zhao Chunian had four sets of professional childhood portraits.

One was a boy’s outfit; the other three were girls’ outfits.

He was wearing gaudy little dresses, with a classic, soul-stirring cinnabar dot right between his eyebrows.

It was the standard aesthetic of the last century.

I looked through them with great interest, expressing only a slight regret at how yellowed the photos were. I mentioned I could find someone to professionally retouch them and restore them to their former glory.

His sister was overjoyed. She picked out every single photo of Zhao Chunian in a dress and stuffed them into an envelope, claiming I should take them home to “give it a try.”

I rubbed my hands together, promising to complete the mission the organization had entrusted to me.

Friendships between two women can sometimes be built over a single lipstick. Other times, you don’t even need lipstick-sharing the embarrassing secrets of a common man is enough to bring them close instantly.

Case in point: me and Zhao Chuyun.

It was just that Lele looked incredibly familiar, as if I’d seen him somewhere before.

Outside, my dream guy’s mother called us for dinner. The table was packed with elaborate dishes, seemingly intent on outdoing the hospitality my family had shown Zhao Chunian.

At the table, the four adults and one child took turns urging me to eat more.

I spent the entire meal on pins and needles.

Halfway through, Lele started clamoring to go to the mall to ride the little train. His sister grabbed her son and husband, apologized to me, and rushed out the door with them in a whirlwind.

His mother then mentioned she had an appointment at a beauty salon for an essential oil back massage. They had already called several times, so she couldn’t stay either.

As for his father, he claimed he had an unfinished chess match with Old Wang next door and that the man must be getting impatient.

In a flurry of departures, the crowded table emptied until only Zhao Chunian and I were left.

I felt a bit awkward.

Zhao Chunian asked if I wanted to eat anything else.

I patted my already rounded stomach and shook my head silently.

He then asked if I wanted to watch TV.

Thinking we had just finished a movie, I declined again.

Finally, he asked if I wanted to go to his room to rest for a bit.

I thought about it. As they say, “comfort breeds desire.” Going in wouldn’t hurt me.

Zhao Chunian gave me a full tour of his room, effectively reciting his resume out loud-including, but not limited to, where he went to high school, where he attended university, what awards he had won, and what research he was currently doing.

At first, I sat on his bed while he sat on a small stool by the side, mostly so he could easily grab various props for me.

Like his book of certificates, his work ID, or a large-scale model he had built in university.

Eventually, it shifted to me sitting on his bed and him sitting on the bed too, right beside me.

A large model of an aircraft carrier sat between us.

Actually, that’s not quite right. Strictly speaking, the carrier wasn’t directly between us. He, the carrier, and I formed a scalene triangle.

He and I met at the vertex, with the carrier as the opposite side.

He explained the various components of the aircraft carrier to me, and as he did, the distance between us grew shorter and shorter.

When he finished, I asked a casual question.

“How long did it take you to put this together?”

I turned my head naturally as I asked.

However, the moment I turned, I froze.

Because we were simply too close.

So close that the tip of my nose was practically brushing against his.

I could even feel his breath ghosting over my skin.

One beat after another, one cold, one hot.

Zhao Chunian looked at me with eyes that seemed to hold stars, yet also resembled a burning flame-intense and focused.

As it turns out, the physical distance between two people is inversely proportional to their level of mental clarity.

Then I watched as he closed the distance between us, closer, closer, infinitely closer.

It wasn’t until the soft, moist sensation hit my lips that I finally realized what was happening.

My dream guy and I… on his bed… we were k-k-k-kissing???

Most importantly, on his bed?

And there was no one else home but the two of us??

Was this a real-life version of ‘a lonely man and woman, dry tinder and a blazing fire,’ where things would naturally and inevitably progress to the next level?

The first kiss was light and shallow-a mere sampling, brief and hurried, with a distinct air of testing the waters.

In that moment, my mind was filled with nothing but the memory of the first time my dream guy opened the door for me, wearing those high-collared pajamas with two buttons undone and his hair damp-the very definition of ‘pure yet seductive.’

The second kiss followed immediately.

This one was clearly more experienced than the last.

Lingering and deep, it involved soft nibbles and slow grinds, a mix of tenderness, urgency, and restraint.

I was, after all, someone with the experience of three ex-boyfriends-even if they were all online relationships and we had never actually met in person.

But that didn’t stop me from subconsciously accumulating a relevant vocabulary from reading steamy webnovels.

Terms like ‘conquering territory,’ ‘prying the lips open,’ ‘a tangle of teeth and tongues,’ or ‘the back-and-forth of desire.’

Zhao Chunian pressed against the surface of my lips, sucking on them for a long, long time.

So long that I couldn’t really wait anymore.

So, tentatively, I opened my lips just a tiny bit.

He didn’t take the hint.

So I tried again, tentatively sticking out my tongue to lick his lip.

I swear, I really only meant it as a tentative, gentle lick before immediately pulling back.

However, in that instant, I felt like I had opened Pandora’s box.

It was as if Zhao Chunian had suddenly cleared his meridians or experienced a moment of divine enlightenment. In short, over the next twenty minutes, I personally experienced every single description of kissing I had ever read in steamy books or ‘overbearing CEO’ novels.

His hand was wrapped around my waist, and I was pressed firmly against his chest.

Our lips and teeth locked in a deep, soul-stirring embrace.

His breathing was ragged and heavy.

I tried to pull away, covering my mouth and saying that if my lips got swollen, what would his family think when they got back?

However, this rascal very seriously cupped my face to take a look, gave me a half-hearted consolation that they weren’t swollen, and then shamelessly leaned back in.

By the end of it, I didn’t even know how I ended up straddling his lap, how my hands had climbed up his back, or how he was pressing my waist to pull me even closer into his embrace.

The front door opened at the perfect-or perhaps imperfect-moment.

Flushed with embarrassment, I rolled off him and grabbed a throw pillow, scurrying onto a small stool.

Zhao Chunian leaned down slightly, whispering in my ear, “What a pity. I haven’t had enough yet.”

Lele’s energetic voice drifted in from the living room.

He was running while shouting for his uncle.

Zhao Chunian walked out as if nothing had happened, chatting with the nurse about the daily routine of looking after the kid.

I huddled in the room for a long time to calm down before finally heading out to greet everyone.

The little boy really wasn’t shy at all. He had even managed to snag a badge for me from the miniature train ride, and he carefully pinned it to my clothes.

“Little Auntie, one for each of us! I specifically rode it twice!”

Zhao Chunian was clearly very satisfied with Lele’s choice of address. He handed over a red envelope on the spot, declaring that he would cover all of Lele’s expenses at the amusement park today.

Likely tipped off by the nurse, it wasn’t long before the auntie finished her session at the beauty salon and the uncle concluded his meeting with his chess buddies. The whole family was present and accounted for, intending to make dinner.

My desperate attempts to decline were futile, and I was essentially forced to sit through a lavish banquet.

As I was leaving, the auntie insisted on shoving a red envelope into my hand. The amount was unknown, but it felt thick and heavy.

I channeled the spirit of a child rejecting New Year’s money, shouting that I couldn’t possibly accept it. Yet Zhao Chunian just stood by, watching the chaos and even egging me on to take it.

Fine, what else could I say? I took it, of course.

We had already kissed, we had already hugged, and I had met the whole family. It felt inappropriate to keep acting aloof.

Besides, given the speed of Zhao Chunian’s arrangements, I figured that on the schedule he was calculating in his head for next week, he probably had ‘meet both sets of parents to discuss the dowry and pick an auspicious date for the wedding banquet’ written down.

It wasn’t until I was in the car that I snapped out of it. I told Zhao Chunian that I felt quite embarrassed-it was my first time visiting and I hadn’t even brought any fruit or candy, yet I was walking away with a red envelope.

My dream guy simply remarked that there was no need for such formalities. We would be family sooner or later anyway, so it didn’t matter whose pocket the money was in.