Look at him—he’s as sturdy as an ox, nothing like someone who’s ill.

Little Seven glared angrily at the screen, her large eyes blazing with fury, fists clenched tight.

She arrived at the car within twenty minutes and tried to open the passenger door.

As expected, it wouldn’t budge.

Well, how could anyone expect him to let her sit alone?

So, she ended up sitting with the President.

Seeing her get into the car, Fang Li couldn’t help but wipe the cold sweat from his brow.

Miss Ye, you took twenty minutes just to come downstairs—you really are a millennium-old turtle!

Fang Li started the engine and glanced in the rearview mirror.

Uh-oh, President Lin's face was still dark as ever.

Should I try to start a conversation to ease the mood?

But what should I say?

"Assistant Fang," Little Seven leaned forward, almost lying across the back of the driver’s seat, "Although we’re colleagues, my feelings for you go beyond mere camaraderie. At work, you’re always kind, gentle, and considerate, making me feel a sense of kinship and..."

Suddenly, a large hand grabbed the back of her neck. Yichen, expressionless, commanded, "Sit properly."

...

Assistant Fang, driving, was sweating bullets.

Miss Ye, if you want to provoke President Lin, don’t use me as the scapegoat! If President Lin gets upset, and decides to vent on me, I’ll be an innocent casualty!

Given the President’s icy demeanor and Miss Ye’s recent teasing, Fang Li decided he had to show his loyalty.

With a swift turn of the wheel, Little Seven was caught off guard and tumbled to the right.

Her head landed on a pair of long legs; when she looked up, she was met with a sharply defined jawline.

Little Seven blinked her large eyes, then, after a moment, realized the situation and immediately tried to sit up.

But at her waist...

"Hey, move your hand, now."

He ignored her, unmoving, his expression unchanged. "You were the one who lay down."

Little Seven was speechless.

She glared at the driver.

But Fang Li, as if there was no one behind him, focused intently on the road.

She glared again at the man above her.

Still no reaction.

Little Seven struggled.

But it was useless.

Fine, if she had to lie there, so be it. It was quite comfortable, after all.

Fuming, Little Seven closed her eyes.

In less than five minutes, her breathing became steady.

Yichen looked down at her, a faint smile curling at his lips. He instructed the driver, "Slow down."

"Yes, sir!"

What should have been a twenty-minute drive stretched to forty minutes under the President’s orders.

Little Seven felt someone nudging her awake. She opened her eyes, still half-dreaming.

The world was blurry; a vague outline slowly sharpened, and she found herself staring into a pair of eyes.

Freshly awake, she couldn’t read the thoughts behind them. The owner of those eyes raised his brows, a trace of a smile flickering, a reaction both expected and unexpected.

Then—

"Hurry up and get up, you’re heavy."

...

Heavy, am I?

This time, Little Seven was fully awake from anger. She stubbornly refused to move, remaining sprawled across his lap, humming a little tune.

"What? Do you like my long legs that much?"

...

Truth be told, she felt a bit awkward lying on his legs, so after a moment, she sat up, muttering, "As if I’d ever like a capitalist villain like you."

President Lin heard her and responded breezily, "If you don’t like me, then who were you so desperate to live or die for yesterday?"

...

"That wasn’t—"

"President Lin, shall we get out?" Fang Li interjected at just the right moment.

Yichen nodded slightly.

Fang Li immediately got out and opened the back door.

Yichen glanced at the girl beside him, cheeks puffed out, and ordered, "No loud voices. No glaring. Stay by my side and act like a proper girlfriend. Understood?"

Little Seven wanted to retort, “Understood, my foot! I’m not going to play your obedient girlfriend!” But then—there was the contract.

Sigh.

She replied in a soft voice, "Understood, President."

They made a show of affection in the hospital, then stopped by Pansen’s office.

Little Seven immediately shook off the arm around her and distanced herself, huffing coldly.

Yichen remained expressionless, seating himself on the sofa.

Pansen looked at them. "What’s going on with you two?"

No one answered.

"Can you at least say something?"

Still no response.

"Hey, I am your attending physician, you know. It’s rude to ignore me."

Little Seven replied, "I’m not sick, so who you’re the doctor for has nothing to do with me."

Pansen was speechless.

He looked at Yichen.

Yichen’s dark eyes stared out the window.

Really, how could a dignified president be this childish?

Pansen felt both resigned and defeated.

He handed them each a writing board. "If you won’t speak, at least you can write, right? Let’s do a test. I’ll ask, and you write your answers. Sound good?"

Little Seven asked, "Didn’t you say as long as I’m by his side, his illness would improve?"

Pansen glanced at Yichen, then answered thoughtfully, "Yes, your presence does help, but just to be safe, we need to do a test for confirmation."

Little Seven didn’t fully understand, but since it concerned his health, she couldn’t ignore it. A test was no big deal.

"Fine, go ahead!"

Pansen looked at Yichen, then asked, "What were your first impressions of each other? Show your answers in ten seconds."

Little Seven glanced at Yichen, thought for a moment, then quickly wrote her answer.

Ten seconds later, both revealed their answers.

Pansen’s face darkened at their responses.

Yichen wrote: "Obsessive fangirl."

Little Seven wrote: "Rogue."

These two really were a pair.

When Little Seven saw the words "obsessive fangirl," she wanted to argue.

But, well, she was rather obsessed.

Forget it, she wouldn’t quarrel with a rogue.

Yichen showed no extra expression at her answer, only said blandly, "You can be obsessed, just not with anyone else."

Though his tone was mild, Little Seven felt there was no room for disobedience.

She couldn’t help defending herself, "I’m selective; ordinary men don’t interest me."

Yichen’s lips curved. "Mm, that’s why you’re often obsessed with me."

...

Little Seven was at a loss for words and turned away.

Pansen grinned mischievously. "Second question: how many times have you kissed?"

...

"What kind of question is that?" Little Seven was too embarrassed to answer and put down the board. "I’m not doing this test anymore."

Pansen picked up the board and offered it back to her, smiling ingratiatingly. "We can change the question. This is for Yichen’s health. Surely you, Xiyang, wouldn’t stand by and do nothing?"

...

"Fine, go on!"

Pansen cleared his throat. "What were you thinking during your first kiss?"

...

What kind of ridiculous question was this?

Little Seven wanted to throw away the board again, but—

"Thinking of forever," Yichen replied.

...

The President’s offhand romantic words left Little Seven flustered. Yet those five words brushed lightly across the most sensitive part of her heart, like a feather.

Pansen seized the moment to ask, "Xiyang, what were you thinking?"

"Wanting to run away."

...

Hearing those three words, President Lin’s face instantly darkened.

He could barely restrain himself from grabbing her and giving her a good scolding.

Pansen, seeing Yichen’s expression, quickly smoothed things over. "Xiyang, you must be suffering from amnesia. If you hadn’t lost your memory, you’d never say such a thing. You’d want nothing more than to stay by Yichen’s side forever."

Little Seven, head bowed, didn’t respond.

Pansen continued, "Xiyang, even if you’ve lost your memory, could you stay by Yichen’s side, accompany him, and help ensure his illness never returns?"

Little Seven slowly looked up, biting her lip as her eyes met his. Their gazes locked, oblivious to all else.

After two minutes, Little Seven turned to Pansen. "Why should I?"

...

Then she looked at Yichen again. "Look at him—he’s as strong as an ox, doesn’t look sick at all."

...

Yichen shot her a sharp look, which made Little Seven a bit nervous. She quickly stood up. "I—I have something to do. I’ll be going now."

This time, Yichen didn’t try to stop her. It was Pansen who grew anxious.

He glanced at Yichen’s impassive face, at a loss for what to do.

He hurried after Little Seven.

"Xiyang!"

At the end of the corridor, Little Seven stopped. "Doctor Pan, you say he’s ill, but I see nothing wrong with him. He bullies me all day and loves every minute of it. Honestly, I suspect you two are conspiring to fool me."

Pansen sighed and pointed out the window. "Look at that patient."

Little Seven followed his gesture. Below, a woman in her thirties, dressed in a hospital gown, sat on a bench, clutching a doll and seemingly talking to herself.

"What about her?" Little Seven asked.

Pansen replied, "Most of the patients here have mental issues. On the surface, they may seem normal, but when mental illness becomes severe, they can’t even care for themselves."

Little Seven didn’t quite understand why he was telling her this, but for some reason, her thoughts turned to Lin Yichen.

"This has something to do with him?"

"Yes," Pansen adjusted his glasses. "Yichen has a mental illness."

Those six words struck Little Seven like thunder from a clear sky. She was stunned, unable to react for several minutes.

So frightening, so terrifying.

How could he possibly be mentally ill?

"What you just said," Little Seven pointed at the woman outside, "Will Lin Yichen become like that someday?"

"Though he’s not at that stage yet," Pansen said seriously, "his psychological issues might be even more severe. If not addressed soon, his condition could deteriorate."

Hearing this, Little Seven was thoroughly convinced and frightened. Imagining Yichen unable to care for himself, she nearly burst into tears.

She ran at once.

"Xiyang, where are you going?"

"I’m going to be with him."

Pansen breathed a sigh of relief. At last, he’d persuaded this stubborn little donkey.

Little Seven ran back, but there was no sign of President Lin.

Had he left?

Pansen entered. "Doctor Pan, where did he go?"