Douluo Continent: Thunder Roar

Jiang Wanqing gripped his hand even tighter. She didn't speak, but just stared at him intently, her gaze so soft it made one's heart race, the emotions within almost overflowing.

Ling Yu's throat moved, and he dared not look into her eyes again. He subconsciously lowered his eyes, but his gaze fell on the wrong place.

Under the light, her fair skin glowed with a faint luster. From her delicate collarbone down, there were soft curves that extended all the way to where her clothes covered her body. With her rapid breathing, they trembled slightly, each movement drawing his attention.

The warm, delicate touch from where his palm had just pressed remained on his fingertips, lingering there with an unusual burning sensation that made him feel uneasy.

"Mrs. Jiang," he said again, his voice even hoarser, with a hint of urging in his tone, "it's late, you should get some rest."

Jiang Wanqing looked at him, at his lowered eyelashes, slightly reddened ears, and taut jawline. A smile flashed in her eyes, and she finally slowly released her grip.

Ling Yu seemed relieved. He immediately stood up, quickly turned around, and faced away from her. His voice was a little hoarse: "Get some rest."

He almost walked out quickly when Jiang Wanqing's voice suddenly came from behind him: "Dr. Xiaoyu."

He paused, not turning around. Behind him came rustling sounds—the sound of her gathering her clothes and fastening the buttons. Then, a soft voice, tinged with a smile, called out: "Goodnight."

Ling Yu didn't respond. He suddenly pushed open the door and walked out, the door closing gently behind him, shutting out the warm light and faint scent of perfume from the room.

He stood in the courtyard, and as the night breeze blew, he realized that his back was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and his clothes clung to his body, feeling cool and comfortable.

Looking at the wrist that she had just held, the warmth of her palm still lingered, with a slightly cool touch that lingered for a long time.

Ling Yu took a deep breath and looked up at the night sky. The moonlight was bright, shining on him and on the door that had just been closed. Warm yellow light still leaked out from the crack in the door, like a lingering ambiguity.

I stood in the courtyard for a long time, so long that the night breeze cooled the thin layer of sweat on my body, so long that my rapid heartbeat finally calmed down, so long that even the lingering sensation on my fingertips faded.

After a long while, he turned and walked towards the front hall. After taking two steps, he couldn't help but stop and look back at the door. The light was still on.

"It's truly one problem after another."

……

A few days later, the clinic gradually became lively again.

First is Wang Dong'er.

Her reason for coming was perfectly legitimate—"on the way."

From the outer courtyard to the east gate, one has to cross most of Shrek City, but when she said "on the way," she did so with a straight face and without the slightest hint of guilt.

They don't do much when they come; they just wander around the shop, touching the row of wooden cabinets, looking at the potted plant in the corner, and occasionally glancing at the snacks on the table, they'll say in a sarcastic tone, "Oh, Aunt Jiang made you something delicious again today."

If Ling Yu looked over, she would immediately turn her face away and pretend to be intently looking at something else.

Then there's Ma Xiaotao.

She came even more often than Wang Dong'er, and her reason was readily available: "I'm injured and need to see a doctor."

She arrived and leaned back in the recliner next to the examination table, urging Ling Yu to examine her injuries.

But after each examination, she would linger, sitting there drinking tea and eating snacks, and she would always tease Wang Dong'er. Seeing Wang Dong'er getting angry and jumping up and down, she would laugh especially happily.

Jiang Nannan's arrival was the most natural.

After all, his mother was currently the only "inpatient" at the clinic.

She didn't talk much. Once she arrived, she worked quietly and efficiently. Occasionally, she would glance up at Ling Yu, but as soon as their eyes met, she would immediately lower her head, her earlobes blushing slightly, before continuing with her work.

Only Zhang Lexuan never came back.

After helping to clean up the clinic that day, she never showed up again.

Ma Xiaotao mentioned once that her senior sister seemed quite busy lately, but Ling Yu just nodded slightly and didn't ask any further questions.

The clinic suddenly became lively.

Every afternoon, Wang Dong'er, Ma Xiaotao, and Jiang Nannan would always appear on time, stay for more than an hour, and then gradually disperse.

Jiang Wanqing bustled about in the kitchen, making different kinds of pastries. Listening to the laughter and chatter of the young people in the shop, she always had a gentle smile on her face.

Ling Yu sat behind the consultation table, sometimes treating the neighbors, sometimes organizing medicinal herbs, and sometimes doing nothing at all, just quietly watching these people make a fuss. His expression remained indifferent, but he had lost some of his former aloofness.

Life seemed peaceful on the surface, but Ling Yu knew in his heart that in some places, things were no longer as peaceful as they appeared.

The atmosphere in the dean's office of the Martial Soul Department was rather heavy.

Yan Shaozhe sat behind his desk, his fingers holding a document, slowly flipping through it.

It was sent by the academic affairs office, and the content was very simple—the disciplinary records of the freshmen class one over the past week.

He looked at it for a long time before slowly putting the document down and looking up at the person standing in front of the desk.

Zhou Yi was dressed in a dark suit, her hair was neatly tied up, she stood straight, and her face was expressionless, revealing no emotion whatsoever.

Yan Shaozhe tapped his fingers lightly twice on the table, making a crisp sound that broke the silence in the room: "Teacher Zhou, how's the class lately?"

Zhou Yi met his gaze and said calmly, "Normal teaching."

"Normal teaching?" Yan Shaozhe repeated, picked up the document, and shook it gently. His tone was unreadable. "I checked the records from the academic affairs office. This week, only two students in your class were disciplined."

Zhou Yi remained silent, standing ramrod straight, her expression unchanged.

Yan Shaozhe continued, "I remember, when you were in charge of a class, you had to deal with at least ten students a week. Strict management, no leniency, that's your style." He put the file back on the desk, leaned back in his chair, and said, "What, you've changed your ways now?"

Zhou Yi paused for a few seconds before slowly speaking: "Those two students were repeat offenders who cheated and shirked their duties. The evidence is conclusive. According to school rules, they should be expelled or given demerits as appropriate. There was no favoritism whatsoever."

She paused, then added, "As for the other students, none of them have violated any rules, so naturally there's no need to take any action."

Yan Shaozhe looked at her, a glint of light flickering in his usually gentle eyes, carrying a hint of inquiry: "No disciplinary violations?" He chuckled softly, a faint laugh that was hard to discern whether it was sarcasm or something else. "Teacher Zhou, do you even believe what you're saying?"

Zhou Yi remained silent, offering no explanation, and simply watched him quietly.

Yan Shaozhe stood up, walked to the window, turned his back to Zhou Yi, and looked at the scenery outside: "When you were in charge, you fired seven or eight people a week, not because those seven or eight people had made serious mistakes." His voice was calm, but with an undeniable certainty, "because you knew that only under high pressure can elites be forced out. You push them, you pressure them, you make them struggle on the edge of their limits, and those who can withstand it are the truly good seedlings."

He turned around, his gaze returning to Zhou Yi, his tone becoming more serious: "And now? Only two are expelled a week, and both are for conduct issues. Ms. Zhou, do you think the students these days are better behaved than before?"

Zhou Yi met his gaze without flinching, and asked calmly, "Dean Yan, what exactly are you trying to say?"

Yan Shaozhe stared at her for a few seconds before walking back to his desk, sitting down, picking up his teacup, taking a sip, and softening his tone slightly: "I want to say that there's something wrong with your teaching methods lately."