Chapter 7: Allergy to Women
Zhan Su paused, touching his lips. “Nothing?”
Old Wang took out his phone, using its mirror function under the bright car roof light to let Zhan Su have a look.
Reflected in the mirror was Zhan Su, strikingly handsome, with his cold, elegant features, obsidian-like black eyes shining brightly, and a faultlessly attractive, sensual jawline—yet, contrary to his imagination, there was no sign of a rash!
There was some redness, but that was only from his own rubbing.
“Congratulations, young master, you’re fine! Hahaha, you must not have come into direct contact—a stroke of luck!” Old Wang finally breathed easy.
No one knew better than Zhan Su whether there had been any contact. In that brief moment when his consciousness faded, that woman had actually performed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!
He could still sense the lingering warmth and the distinctly feminine scent left by that random woman…
Thinking about it made him feel all out of sorts.
Earlier, blinded by rage and unwilling to let anyone see his physical abnormality, he had ordered her away.
Now, if she were to appear again, he would not hesitate to stamp her into the ground.
But usually, even a mere brush of the hand would trigger his reaction. Today, though—after being forcefully kissed on the mouth—nothing had happened at all?
Why was that?
No matter the reason, that woman was finished.
Sensing the intense hostility radiating from the young master, Old Wang knew his mood was foul.
He could only wonder what kind of reckless girl would dare to run into their young master. Across the entire world, few would have the guts for such a thing.
Thank heavens, it seemed there hadn’t been direct contact. Otherwise, the young master’s allergy to women would have flared up long ago.
This was misfortune within fortune.
No need to go to the hospital.
Old Wang asked, “Young master, where to now?”
“Home,” Zhan Su replied coldly.
Old Wang carefully agreed, then added, “Though it’s not serious enough for the hospital, it’s better to be cautious. I’ll have the family doctor come to your residence for a check-up, all right?”
He knew the young master’s habits—no matter if it was direct or indirect contact with a woman, the young master’s fastidiousness would drive him straight home to bathe.
But what if the allergy was delayed, and flared up later? He wouldn’t feel at ease without a check.
He also couldn’t face the old master and madam without doing something.
“Fine.”
With the young master’s permission, Old Wang hurriedly phoned the family doctor.
***
Afterward, Shi Qingqing crept quietly back to the scene of the incident.
The neat freak jerk had vanished.
At least he wasn’t dead.
Shi Qingqing pressed a hand to her chest, still badly shaken.
The guy was so good-looking, yet so delicate—a single bump and he fainted.
Beauty comes with a price!
As long as he wasn’t dead, surely he wouldn’t come after her for compensation.
She’d even given up her first kiss for this.
Cough. Shi Qingqing’s face flushed with embarrassment. Forget it, best not to dwell.
She’d picked up a phone today, snatched a hefty red packet—there was no need to argue with someone like that.
Just thinking about the more than a thousand she’d pocketed, enough for two months’ living expenses and her mother’s medicine, made her instantly cheerful again.
As she relaxed, she felt a stinging pain on her arm—a glance revealed a thin line of blood where a bush branch had scratched her.
She felt like swearing.
Look at what that neat freak jerk had brought her to—she wished him a lifetime of failed red packet grabs, hmph!
Remembering the handkerchief the neat freak had thrown into the trash, she fished it out. The trash can was remarkably clean, probably just emptied, with only that one handkerchief inside.