One Hundred Ways to Knock Down the Doctor - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The door to 807 opened with startling suddenness.

Warm yellow light spilled out from inside, and the doctor cutie’s face-a face that could pull off both a dominant or submissive look-appeared before me.

He must have just showered. His hair looked damp, with crystal-clear droplets clinging to the tips, threatening to fall. One drop traced the sharp contour of his profile, slid down his slender neck, and vanished into the depths of his V-neck pajamas.

Further down were chest muscles, abs, and a V-line that were hidden by his clothes but sparked endless imagination…

We were both wearing pajamas, yet while I looked like I was bundled up like a zongzi rice dumpling, he looked elegant and refined in a way that felt both restrained and flattering.

I gulped, quietly swallowing my saliva.

The doctor cutie’s handsome brow furrowed.

“What’s going on with you?”

Squatting on the ground, I answered honestly.

“The door closed, and I don’t have my keys.”

Then I quickly added a follow-up.

“I don’t have my phone, either.”

He seemed to sigh softly, stepping aside to clear the doorway.

“Come in.”

My dream guy’s room was just like the man himself: clean, orderly, and minimalist.

He pointed toward the sofa, gesturing for me to sit.

Right then, my stomach let out an incredibly poorly timed growl.

“Didn’t eat dinner?”

I shook my head frantically, then nodded desperately, thought about it, and went back to shaking my head like a madwoman.

I told my dream guy I wasn’t hungry.

Accompanying my claim of being full was another long, low rumble from my stomach-gurgle-

I felt like I’d never be able to win him over in this lifetime.

The doctor cutie was silent for a moment before asking, “What do you want to eat?”

“Anything is fine, I’m not picky. I’m very easy to take care of.”

For the second time that long night, I wanted to bite my own tongue off.

He stood up and walked toward the kitchen. I wasn’t sure if it was just my imagination, but I thought I saw him smile.

“Is tomato and egg noodles okay?”

Hugging a throw pillow, I didn’t dare speak again and just nodded.

When you’re a guest in someone’s home, you can’t be a picky eater.

Besides, with my dream guy personally making noodles, forget tomatoes-even if he put in a pound of arsenic, I’d still eat it.

His kitchen was an open-concept design. I pretended to watch TV, but in reality, I was stealing glances every few seconds, feasting my eyes on the doctor cutie’s intoxicating silhouette as he cooked.

Bright red tomatoes were sautéed until they released their juices, fresh eggs were fried just right, the noodles were perfectly al dente, and the chopped green onions looked like the finishing touch on a masterpiece.

Rising from the steam of the clear broth was not just the delicious aroma of noodles, but the new beginning of my journey with my dream guy.

I held my chopsticks, praying fervently in my heart.

Please let the allergic reaction be slow to kick in.

Yes, I am allergic to tomatoes.

Under the doctor cutie’s gaze, I slowly lifted a mouthful of noodles and heroically shoved them into my mouth.

A bowl of noodles that should have made my heart flutter with romance was instead eaten with frantic anxiety.

I had to be anxious-my face was starting to itch.

On one hand, I was praying that his lights were dim enough that he couldn’t see my face clearly; on the other hand, the doctor cutie suddenly reached out and brushed his hand against my cheek.

Me: ???

I hadn’t even made a move yet, and my dream guy was already touching me?

Then I felt it-the vibration of the doctor cutie’s chest from right beneath me.

“You’re having an allergic reaction.”

That’s a professional doctor for you. Look at that delivery-he spoke in nothing but certainties.

I went into a triple denial.

“I am not. It’s just too hot, it’s… windburn.”

The doctor cutie pulled me further into the room, examining me closely under the light for a few seconds before decisively stating the correct answer.

“Are you allergic to tomatoes?”

I was struck with panic.

Are OB-GYNs these days all this sharp?

That bowl of noodles had cilantro, green onions, eggs, and sesame oil in it besides the tomatoes. With so many ingredients, how did you pinpoint Mr. Tomato so accurately?

“Ah? Really? I never noticed, ha ha ha ha ha.”

Perhaps because my laugh was too idiotic, the doctor cutie let out a very helpless sigh. He told me two words-“Wait here”-and turned to head into the bedroom.

With my face red and swollen, I stood in my dream guy’s living room, feeling completely dazed.

When the bedroom door opened again, the doctor cutie was fully dressed. He looked at me-my face swollen like a pig’s head-and reached out toward me.

“Let’s go.”

I felt my heart go cold.

I hadn’t even been in my dream guy’s house for two hours, and I was already being kicked out…

With eyes full of hot tears, I left this land where I had wanted to linger for a long time.

Then, I was led all the way into the elevator by the doctor cutie, guided into the garage, and stuffed into the passenger seat.

I was still in a complete daze.

“Where are we going?”

My dream guy buckled his seatbelt and turned the car key.

“The hospital.”

Huh?

He’s not kicking me out?

I was instantly resurrected with full health.

The hospital parking lot was particularly empty at night. Once my dream guy parked the car, I volunteered to go register.

Even though I hadn’t brought my phone or any cash, I couldn’t just shamelessly sponge off him, right?

I had to at least make the gesture.

In the end, he simply replied with two words.

“No need.”

Well, it really wasn’t necessary.

Because we had gone to his own hospital.

I watched with wide eyes as he exchanged a few words of medical jargon with the ER doctor. Then, he brazenly sat down at the computer, logged into his own doctor account, created a file, and prescribed the medication in one smooth motion, finishing it off by scanning a QR code with his phone to pay.

During the entire process, let alone registering, I didn’t even have time to open my mouth before the medicine was in my hands.

That was because the ER doctor had even helped him go to the pharmacy.

Not only did he go to the pharmacy for him, but before leaving, he also patted him on the shoulder with a look that said more than words, casting a meaningful glance my way.

Of course, I didn’t really care about any of that anymore.

By the time he led me out of the hospital entrance, only one thought was swirling in my head.

For my follow-up appointment, could I just come to the ER and find him?

This was way too convenient.

The dream guy took a bottle of water from the trunk and thoughtfully twisted it open for me, telling me to take the medicine first.

Holding the bottle of Nongfu Spring, I asked him very earnestly when he would be on rotation in the ER.

As it turned out, he told me he didn’t rotate through the ER, only the inpatient department.

I figured the inpatient department was fine too; after all, a follow-up is a follow-up no matter where it happens.

The doctor cutie looked at me with utter helplessness.

“For your allergies, you should go to dermatology. If you’re jumping off buildings, you go to psychiatry. I’m rotating through the OB-GYN inpatient ward. No matter how you try to book a follow-up, you won’t get an appointment with me.”

Me: …

Curse these specialized fields.

Seeing my face look like I was at a funeral, the doctor cutie added another sentence.

“However, I live right next door to you. If you want a follow-up, just come over and knock on my door.”

“Pajamas are fine too-the summer ones are better. Just… don’t go commando again.”

Me: !!!

I don’t think I was hallucinating.

During my second encounter with my dream guy, he gave me a long-term access pass to his home.

And he’s judging me for dressing too conservatively?