Time travel with Him

Dorothy's eyes fluttered open in a daze, her vision instantly colliding with a stern face. Sharp eyebrows, piercing eyes, a high-bridged nose, and lips pressed into a tight line. He wore what looked like a military uniform from the '70s or '80s, his expression cold and laced with suppressed anger.

Struggling to sit up, Dorothy's voice was hoarse. "Who are you? Let me go!"

The man in uniform loomed over her, his gaze chilling.

"Dorothy! What madness have you concocted this time?" His deep voice carried an unmistakable edge of fury.

She flinched, momentarily stunned. Just a second ago, she had bumped her nose against his rib, sending stars bursting in her vision. Now, hearing him say her name so familiarly, she grew even more bewildered.

Did this man... know her?

"Nicholas, let's deal with that later. Get her to the medical room first-she hurt her leg just now."

The voice belonged to a bald man standing beside the uniformed figure, his tone more relaxed.

Dorothy forced herself to take in her surroundings. A high wall towered in the distance, and beyond it, a large cage-like structure. A red sign hung prominently: "Revolutionary Army, the Loyal Guards of the People." Inside the enclosure stood rows of cylindrical buildings, soldiers in green uniforms patrolling in precise formations. Further back, military-green trucks were parked in neat rows.

Her breath caught as she looked down at herself. Gone was the tailored suit she had meticulously chosen for the seminar. In its place was a yellow dress, worn and patched at the hem-something she would never have owned. Even her hands looked different, softer, lacking the calluses from years of handling surgical tools.

Panic clawed at her chest.

Nicholas.

She swallowed hard, her voice unsteady. "Is... is your last name Parker?"

The man let out a mirthless laugh. "What, playing the amnesia card this time?"

His lack of denial was answer enough.

Dorothy's world tilted.

The high walls. The old-fashioned uniforms. The cage. The name Nicholas Parker.

A body that wasn't hers.

No. No, no, no.

Memories flooded in like a dam breaking. Before the plane crash, she had been reading a book-Endearing Love. And now... everything around her matched that book's setting.

She had transmigrated.

Her stomach dropped as she recalled the novel's plot.

Nicholas Parker, the book's male lead, was a second-generation military and political elite. Righteous. Stable. Loyal. A perfect gentleman. But his life had one stain-his ex-wife.

Dorothy.

A shudder ran through her.

The Dorothy in the book was the most despised character, a spoiled and malicious woman who had blackmailed her family into marrying Nicholas just to avoid being sent to the countryside. She had thought herself set for life-until she discovered Nicholas had adopted his late friend's son. A fresh high school graduate, suddenly a stepmother.

Nicholas, frequently away on duty, had treated her with nothing but indifference. Frustrated and resentful, Dorothy had taken her anger out on the boy, growing increasingly unstable.

Then, she made a fatal mistake.

Desperate to force Nicholas into retirement, she had conspired with foreign spies to sell military secrets. When the plan unraveled, she was arrested and executed for treason. Nicholas, dishonored and injured in the ensuing battle, lost his legs in an explosion. He spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair, haunted by nightmares of his ex-wife's twisted smile-until the novel's heroine, Agatha, healed his wounds with love.

Dorothy squeezed her eyes shut.

Please, let this be a dream. Let me wake up in my world, where I have a house, a car, and a career. Where I'm a renowned dentist, about to deliver a groundbreaking patent speech. Where I'm not some villain doomed to die.

But when she opened her eyes, she was still here.

Nicholas was still here.

And his gaze was still filled with loathing.

He crouched down, scanning her injuries. The moment his eyes landed on her exposed skin, he tensed.

In the book, Dorothy had traveled deep into the mountains to find Nicholas's superior, intending to sabotage his work. But she had gotten lost, panicked at the sounds of wild animals, and in her blind fear, she had stumbled into the base's electric fence.

And died.

Dorothy's breath hitched. That's how I ended up here.

The realization was jarring.

Her dress was tattered, the fabric ripped in places. The moment Nicholas noticed, he jerked back as if burned, disgust twisting his features.

Without warning, he grabbed his military coat and threw it at her. "Put this on."

Dorothy blinked. Then, realizing just how much skin she was showing, she quickly covered herself. The coat was heavy and smelled faintly of soap-clean, but impersonal.

Nicholas watched her with barely concealed frustration. To him, this was just another one of her schemes. Another desperate ploy to force him home, to destroy him.

His patience had run out.

"Get up," he ordered. "Follow me."

Dorothy tried, but the moment she put pressure on her left leg, pain shot up her spine. She whimpered. "I can't stand."

The young soldier next to Nicholas sighed. "You're gonna have to carry your wife."

Nicholas's jaw tightened. For a long moment, he didn't move. Then, with an expression as if he had been handed a death sentence, he crouched in front of her. His back was broad and straight, as unyielding as a soldier standing at attention.

"Get on."

Dorothy hesitated. "You're serious?"

Nicholas's voice was clipped. "Hmm."

Not waiting for him to change his mind, she scrambled onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck. The warmth of his body was startling, his scent overwhelming-a mix of sweat, soap, and something distinctly masculine.

But she had bigger concerns.

"My surgical kit-it's on the ground!" she pointed urgently.

Nicholas didn't even glance back. "I know."

Dorothy exhaled in relief, finally letting herself rest against him.

Nicholas, however, remained rigid. The feel of her breath against his neck, the warmth of her body pressed to his back-it unsettled him in ways he didn't want to admit.

His muscles tensed, his jaw locked.

This woman...

No matter what she was planning this time, it wouldn't work.

Nicholas picked up the silver iron box, testing its weight in his hand. It was heavier than he expected, but he didn't bother asking Dorothy what was inside. Without another word, he carried the box and walked ahead, expecting her to follow.

Dorothy stole a glance at him. His sharp features were set in a disciplined, unreadable expression. Sweat traced down his temple, highlighting the strong cut of his jaw. His Adam's apple moved slightly as he swallowed. With the crisp lines of his military uniform and that ever-present air of restraint, he exuded an odd, magnetic appeal.

Despite the grueling hike spanning several kilometers and the additional weight he carried, his pace remained swift and steady-a true soldier.

Neither of them spoke. Nicholas had no interest in conversation, and Dorothy feared revealing too much if she asked the wrong questions. But Caleb-the chatty young soldier with the buzz cut-had no such reservations.

Through his constant chatter, Dorothy learned that Caleb was one of Nicholas's comrades, a free-spirited man with a surprising artistic streak. He had a reputation for being popular with the ladies.

Eventually, Caleb had to part ways with them. Before leaving, he shot Nicholas a knowing look. "Make sure to take her to the medical room."

Nicholas responded with his usual curt nod.

They finally arrived at the military compound. The low-rise buildings and rows of old-fashioned watchtowers carried a distinct vintage atmosphere. Soldiers in army-green uniforms moved about, their boots crunching against the dirt paths. The walls bore signs of age, and red banners displaying revolutionary slogans fluttered in the breeze.

A group of soldiers stopped and saluted as Nicholas passed.

"Deputy Commander Parker!" they greeted in unison.

Nicholas barely acknowledged them with a nod.

Dorothy, still perched on his back, drew curious stares. The presence of a woman-especially one as striking as her-was clearly an unusual sight here.

A middle-aged man with a commanding presence approached them. Dorothy instinctively noted the multiple red stars on his rank insignia.

Nicholas halted, standing at full attention. "Sir! Commander Charles, this is my wife, Dorothy. She came to visit me at the base today."

The commander's sharp eyes flickered between them. His voice was stern. "Did you report this in advance?"

Nicholas hesitated briefly before lowering his gaze. "No, sir."

Charles's expression darkened. "This is a military zone, not a place for personal visits. You've acted recklessly, Comrade Nicholas."

"I take full responsibility, sir," Nicholas said, his voice steady.

Charles crossed his arms. "Write a self-reflection report and run ten laps around the training field as punishment."

"Yes, Commander," Nicholas responded without hesitation.

Dorothy quickly spoke up. "Commander, I'm terribly sorry. I twisted my ankle on the way here, and Nicholas had to carry me. Please don't be too harsh on him... My husband and I-" she blinked dramatically, "we've been apart for so long, and I just missed him too much."

The older man huffed in mild amusement before shaking his head. "Alright, take your wife to the infirmary first. Get her checked out. After that, have a meal and send her home. Don't let this interfere with afternoon training."

Nicholas saluted. "Yes, sir."

Dorothy felt a small sense of relief. The commander seemed fair and reasonable. What she didn't realize was that his leniency had nothing to do with kindness-it was respect for Nicholas's powerful family background. An ordinary soldier who smuggled a woman into a restricted zone wouldn't get off so easily.

Once the commander left, Nicholas turned to her. "How's your leg?"

Dorothy blinked. "Still hurts."

Without another word, Nicholas resumed carrying her.

They reached the infirmary, a simple room with a bed and a medicine cabinet. Nicholas carefully set her down. Lifting the curtain, he called out, "Doctor? Doctor Reuben?"

Silence.

A soldier peeked his head through the door. "Captain Parker, Doctor Reuben is on emergency leave. Won't be back until next month."

Nicholas stood still for a moment before turning to the cabinet. He grabbed a bottle of disinfectant, some gauze, and cotton swabs. Without asking, he knelt by the bed and reached for Dorothy's foot.

She stiffened. "I can do it myself."

He ignored her.

His fingers worked efficiently, untying her shoes and peeling off her socks. His gaze flickered over the bruises blooming on her fair skin, darkening slightly.

Dorothy inhaled sharply as he dabbed the disinfectant onto the wound. "Ow! Be gentle!"

Nicholas didn't even blink. "Does it hurt?"

She shot him an irritated look. "What kind of dumb question is that?"

If he hadn't let go of her so suddenly earlier, she wouldn't have fallen in the first place.

Nicholas remained unfazed. "Bear with it."

Dorothy muttered under her breath, but let him finish.

In the army, all soldiers were trained in first aid. Nicholas was no exception. However...

She glanced down at her foot, now wrapped in a comically thick layer of gauze, complete with a large, unnecessary butterfly knot.

Dorothy sighed. "You do know I need circulation in my foot, right?"

Nicholas didn't reply. He simply handed her a wooden crutch. "Let's go eat. Afterward, Caleb will drive you home."

Dorothy took the crutch, carefully testing her weight on it before limping alongside him toward the dining hall.

Before leaving, she caught sight of herself in a mirror.

Her features were unmistakably hers, but younger-so much younger. The original Dorothy from this timeline had only been married to Nicholas for six months. She wasn't even nineteen yet.

Dorothy swallowed hard. She had traveled back in time... and into the body of a teenage girl.

Of all the misfortunes of this situation, that was possibly the only silver lining.

As she hobbled beside Nicholas, she was lost in thought.

The man beside her, however, cast her a sidelong glance. His voice, unusually calm, broke the silence.

"Dorothy."

She turned toward him. "Hmm?"

Nicholas hesitated briefly before asking, "What will it take for you to agree to a divorce?"

In Nicholas's eyes, if he had known before their marriage that Dorothy was such a self-centered, malicious, and greedy woman-someone who would even abuse a child-he would have never agreed to be with her, family contract or not. He was a man of responsibility, and since he had married her, he had tried to do right by her. But Dorothy's repeated acts of madness and irrational behavior-sneaking into a military base this time, and abusing Logan-had crossed his bottom line.

This marriage had to end.

Even if he eventually left the military, he still needed to free himself and his family from this mess.

"As long as you agree to the divorce, I'll meet any condition you ask for," Nicholas said. "Money isn't a problem. I can leave with nothing and still pay you alimony every month."

Dorothy started to calm down and think. If she had really crossed into this novel, she absolutely couldn't get divorced right now. In the secluded world of the '60s and '70s, an eighteen-year-old divorcée would be met with endless disdain. That much was obvious.

Worse still, after the divorce, she would have to return to the Stone family and face the relatives who had spent eighteen years with the original Dorothy. Without the real Dorothy's memories, just relying on the novel's content wouldn't be enough to survive.

At least in the Parker household, she only had to deal with Nicholas's family, who already disliked her.

And if she left, she'd be sent to the countryside. She, who had been pampered in modern times, with maids handling everything for her. Could she last even a month in the countryside?

No.

If she had to divorce, it would have to wait-at least until she found a job and gained some independence.

As the two neared the cafeteria, Nicholas noticed her silence and pressed, "What do you think?"

Dorothy avoided answering directly. "I need more time to think."

"Then take your time." Nicholas didn't push further. He let her sit while he went to get their meals. As Deputy Battalion Commander, his meal was slightly better than the average soldier's-corned beef and bread, which was quite luxurious for the era.

Dorothy, hungry from all the stress, didn't hesitate to eat.

The cafeteria was filled mostly with men, as female soldiers were few. A woman as beautiful as Dorothy immediately drew attention. She quickly became aware of the lingering gazes around her, making her meal increasingly uncomfortable.

And then, she overheard murmurs from behind her.

"Look, that's Deputy Battalion Commander Parker's wife."

"She's pretty, but how could she be so vicious? I heard she abuses the child at home..."

Dorothy: "..."

The original Dorothy really was infamous everywhere.

Bang!

Nicholas suddenly stood up, slamming the table. The soldiers behind them fell silent, startled.

He shot them a cold glance, then picked up his empty tray. Without looking at Dorothy, he said, "I'm done. Take your time eating. Caleb will pick you up at the entrance."

With that, he strode off without looking back.

Dorothy stared at her still half-full tray. She had lost her appetite, but the slogans on the wall-Wasting is shameful and Sweat drips from the hoe-made it clear that she couldn't just throw the food away.

Glancing around, she noticed that everyone else had cleaned their plates until they practically shone.

She had no choice but to slowly continue eating.

When Caleb arrived, she saw him as her savior. "Do you have any kind of lunch box? I can't eat anymore, and I want to pack it up."

"Oh, we do," Caleb said, slightly surprised. He turned and quickly brought back an aluminum lunch box with a blue-and-white military insignia.

Dorothy didn't think much of it. She hurriedly transferred the leftovers into the box, sealing it with relief.

In the military cafeteria, everyone had to wash their own dishes. She was about to join the line when Caleb took her tray. "I'll do it," he said, then led her to a jeep.

Just as she was about to get in, she suddenly remembered something. "Wait, I forgot something!"

Caleb opened the back door, revealing a silver aluminum case. "This?"

Dorothy's tense shoulders relaxed. "Yes."

She got in, discreetly opening the case to check its contents. Seeing that her surgical tools were still intact, she sighed in relief.

Caleb, noticing her actions, asked curiously, "What's inside?"

Dorothy ran her fingers over the box's cool surface. "A precious treasure."

Caleb: "?"

The jeep sped along a dusty, uneven road. The poor infrastructure made for a bumpy ride, and Dorothy held onto the handlebar tightly, feeling a bit dizzy.

After about an hour, they arrived in Boston. Through the window, she watched as rows of old, adjacent bungalows passed by. There were high-rise buildings, small shops with long lines outside. One of the signs read "XX Sales Committee" in bold lettering.

Pedestrians wore thick fur coats, with colorful clothes underneath. Women sported permed hairstyles, and bicycles were rare enough to draw attention.

Dorothy glanced down at her turmeric-colored dress. It looked outdated to her modern eyes, but here, it was actually fashionable.

Suddenly, a person on the roadside waved at the jeep.

Caleb hit the brakes abruptly, causing Dorothy to jolt forward and hit the seat in front of her.

A young woman in a blue cotton-padded jacket rushed over and knocked on the window. "Comrade, can you give us a ride to the clinic? My aunt had a toothache and fainted on the roadside!"

Caleb immediately unbuckled his seatbelt. "Wait here, I'll check."

Dorothy, curious, followed with her crutches.

The street was bustling with people trying to help. Some were offering cold water, others were fetching towels, and a few suggested getting a bicycle-though it wouldn't help much in this situation.

Caleb pushed through the crowd easily, thanks to his imposing stature. When he saw the unconscious middle-aged woman, his expression darkened.

"Are you sure it's just a toothache?" he asked the young woman.

"I don't know! She only complained about her tooth hurting before we left the house," the girl said, close to tears.

"Alright, I'll take her to the clinic now," Caleb decided.

The girl repeatedly bowed in gratitude. "Thank you! Thank you, Comrade!"

Caleb turned back. "Mrs. Parker, uh-"

Before he could finish, Dorothy waved him off. "Go ahead. Take her."

"You're as kind-hearted as you are beautiful," Caleb commented with a grin, though it seemed more like a casual remark than genuine praise.

With the help of a few onlookers, Caleb lifted the unconscious woman into the backseat. The girl in the blue coat climbed in after her, leaving Dorothy to take the front seat.

She clutched her silver box protectively. Ever since realizing she had time-traveled, it had become her most valuable possession.

She had made up her mind. If Nicholas wanted a divorce, she would agree-but not until she secured a stable future.

Maybe she should return to her old profession.

In the '70s, doctors were still highly respected.

With this thought, Dorothy straightened, suddenly motivated.

"Maybe I should become a dentist again," she murmured.

Caleb started the engine. "Are you both seated?"

"We're good to go," the girl in blue responded loudly.

Caleb turned to remind Dorothy to buckle up but paused. She had already done so, her delicate profile illuminated by the sunlight.

His heart skipped a beat. Quickly, he turned away.

As they drove, Caleb made conversation. "Young lady, what's your name and where do you work?"

"My name is Agatha," she said. "I teach at Central Elementary School."

Caleb raised his eyebrows. "A teacher? That's a great job."

Dorothy, who had been quiet, suddenly spoke. "What did you say your name was?"

The girl hesitated. "Agatha."

Dorothy: "..."

That was the name of the female lead in Endearing Love novel.

Was this fate?

Unconsciously, Dorothy moved a little further away.

Even though the female lead in the novel was depicted as warm-hearted and gentle like a little sun, who never harmed the original host (it was usually the original host who persecuted her), from her many years of reading experience, Dorothy knew that main characters posses an aura of plot armor. If an evil supporting character approached them too closely, something bad was bound to happen.

If not for her leg injury, Dorothy would have even considered jumping out of the car and running away.

Only after they had walked far into the clinic did Dorothy open her mouth and say, "My leg is injured, so I also want to go and see a doctor in the clinic."

Of course, she knew it was a minor injury and it would heal in a few days. She just needed an excuse to go in.

Caleb looked surprised: "Mrs Parker, why didn't you say so earlier? You could have just gone in with them. They even know some people there."

Dorothy replied, "It's not severe. I just need the doctor to apply some medicine and re-bandage it."

"Oh, alright. Let's go then," Caleb replied, leading her in.

As Dorothy slowly walked into the clinic, she looked around, in the hopes of seeing some job advertisements or to inquire.

But even if people knew about job openings, they wouldn't likely tell her.

Job opportunities are precious commodities these days.

But she recalled older family members saying that in the '70s, government-run institutions would post job vacancies and conduct public examinations and screenings. While some underground connections could be involved, they would still need to maintain appearances.

"The doctor says I need to get some medicine, hope you don't mind?"After receiving the prescription, Dorothy sent Caleb off, intentionally stalling for time as she milled about the clinic.

And lo and behold, she actually found something.

At the corner of a bulletin board, Dorothy saw a job posting.

The posting stated that the clinic currently needed a nurse. Requirements were a high school education, must be female, and must be in good health without any communicable diseases.

Perhaps to avoid being discovered, the words were printed very small on purpose, extremely inconspicuous, and there was no mention of when to take the recruitment exam.

Just then, a janitor came out of the bathroom. Dorothy stopped her and asked, "Miss, is this clinic hiring? Do you know when the registration for the exam is?"

The woman barely glanced at Dorothy and responded curtly, "Who are you?"

Dorothy reached into her pocket. The original owner of this body still had some money. She took out a coin and handed it to the woman, apologizing with a smile, "I studied nursing. I've been unemployed for half a year after graduation and failed to find a suitable job. My family is worried about me. I feel bad about just staying home waiting for meals. So, even with an injured leg, I didn't slack off in job hunting. Could you please tell me if you know anything?"

Accepting the coin and seeing Dorothy leaning on a crutch, the woman's expression softened considerably. She pointed to a small door on the right and said, "Registration for the examination ends at five o'clock tomorrow afternoon. That is the registration place over there."

"Thank you, miss." Gratefully, Dorothy quickly thanked her and hurried to the registration office.

At the registration office, two middle-aged men in white coats were leisurely drinking Coffee.

Dorothy knocked on the door, and one of them hailed, "Come in."

Upon her entry, the other man took a close look and asked, "What can I do for you?"

She smiled nervously, saying, "Hello, I am here to apply for the job of the nurse."

The man responsible for registration was quite friendly, probably because she was pretty. He picked up a form, started to fill it out, and asked, "What's your name? How old are you? What's your educational background? Where do you live...?"

Dorothy answered each question. However, when the other man heard that she was only eighteen years old and living in the military complex, he shook his head, saying, "I don't think this job is suitable for you, you're too young, no experience, and no certification. Nursing can be quite tiring. Plus, is your leg injured?" His gaze fell on the bandaged right leg of Dorothy.

Dorothy hurriedly explained,"It's a minor injury. It will heal on its own in a couple of days."

"I'm not afraid of hard work, you can let me try first."

She thought to herself that she didn't intend to be a nurse. In her previous life, she was a respected chief physician.

The man glanced at her and said, "Then let me test you. You should at least know the basic care knowledge; otherwise, getting registered would be a waste."

"What type of respiration is used in infants due to their underdeveloped respiratory muscles and small range of chest movements?"

Dorothy immediately responded, "Diaphragmatic breathing."

A flash of surprise crossed the man's eyes, he then quickly continued to ask, "What is the characteristic sign of acute peritonitis?"

This question is a bit difficult for high school graduates, as this was not taught in their textbooks.

Dorothy answered, "Peritoneal irritation syndrome."

Her fluent responses gave off an air of self-confidence, making her appear much more mature than her apparent age, exuding a unique charm.

This sense of reliability, seemed to be something they had only ever seen in actual doctors.

"Fine, I'll register you. Come back for the test in a week," he concluded.

Dorothy was overjoyed and cheerfully said, "Thank you!"

The man saw that she was beautiful, knowledgeable in nursing, and very polite, his mood also improved significantly.

He added a few more words specifically, "The exam does not provide paper and pens, you have to bring your own to jot down the questions, don't forget."

There were people in the past who didn't bring paper and pens to exams and were subsequently unable to take the test.

Dorothy nodded earnestly, "I'll definitely remember."

After such a series of field training, by the time Caleb had dropped her off at the military estate, it was already dark outside.

The smell of cooking was wafting through the streets and alleys, each household cooking up their own dinner.

The entrance to the military estate was heavily guarded, but since Caleb was driving an army jeep, coupled with Dorothy's familiar face, the guard simply glanced at her and offered a respectful salute, "Good evening, Mrs Parker!"

Dorothy was startled for a moment and nodded back, "Hello."

The guards seemed stunned with a surprised expression on their faces.

Everyone knew that the wife of the Battalion Commander Parker, was known for her arrogance, looking down her nose at others. But for her to initiate greetings today, was as surprising as the sun rising from the west.

They drove across the tarred road, past green belts and towering trees. The estate was filled with Split-level styled houses

From Dorothy's perspective, this place was very similar to modern residential communities.

The Jeep stopped in front of a beautifully designed duplex.

"Mrs Parker, we've arrived." Caleb jumped out of the car to open the door for her.

Looking up, Dorothy was a bit surprised. The duplex even had a garden, with vibrant flowers and ivy peering over the fence,a gate, and a somewhat Colonial architectural style. Even compared to modern houses, it did not seem inferior, but rather exuded an added antique charm.

The text mentioned that this old duplex was a leftover from the Revolutionary war era, and was allocated to the military high-level leadership after the founding of the United States of America. Considering Nicholas's rank, he would not have been assigned a duplex if not for his father's influence.

She glanced around a few times, then picked up her suitcase and walked in.

As she disappeared into the house, Caleb could not help but worry. He was about to leave, hopefully nothing strange happened between her and Nicholas's son that night.

"Dorothy, where have you been? How come you just came back?" A boyish voice questioned from inside the garden.

Upon a glance, Dorothy noticed that the speaker was a small boy who looked to be only eight or nine years old.

He wore a blue and white sports uniform from school, with a red scarf tied around his neck.

This kid should be Logan, the son of his friend and comrade that Nicholas adopted, as depicted in the novel.

After shooting him a couple of glances, Dorothy withdrew her attention and continued limping forward, leaning against her crutch.

Logan became annoyed and blocked her path, "Hey, I've called you! Are you deaf or something?"

She casually responded, "So what? Who set the rule that I must respond when you call me?"

She wasn't the one who owed Logan an apology - it was the former host of this body, not her.

So rude while speaking, she really didn't give a damn.

"Ha, I know you want me to call you mother. Well, I can tell you, not in a million years!" Logan huffed coldly at her, wearing a face full of wariness.

Dorothy snorted lightly, "Like I care."

Logan: "?"

He was puzzled. This wicked woman had returned from her trip with such a strange attitude.

Exhausted after the day's troubles, Dorothy just wanted to rest. Walking past Logan, she went straight to open the door and entered the room. The lights were off, and she had to fumble around the wall for a while before she found the old-fashioned switch and clicked it on.

The warm yellow lights illuminated the room's furnishing.

A pair of burnt orange fabric sofas sat in the middle of the room. An ottoman was in the middle of the room, colonial style ceiling fans, Trinitron color televisions, and pear wood furniture cabinets with a strong retro feel could be seen. Resting on top of a cabinet was a radio.

The portrait of the president and a framed landscape painting of the Amazon forest and distant mountains hang on the wall.

The kitchen is on the far left, a large square wooden dining table is near the entrance, and to the right, a circular wooden staircase that leads to the second floor.

Honestly, this living environment gave Dorothy a bit of motivation for her future life.

If she returned home to find a house made of bricks walls with a dry toilet, she would faint.

The house seemed empty. Dorothy found the shoe rack, picked up a pair of slightly smaller white slippers, hobbled over to the sofa, and collapsed onto it.

At that moment, her tense emotions finally had a chance to relax.

"I'm finally alive..."

Dorothy lay sprawling, her feet propped up on the ottoman. Her toes were plump and fair, wiggling slightly.

Upon seeing her like this, Logan's face dropped. However, when his gaze caught sight of her leg wrapped in thick gauze, his mood instantly brightened, his voice evincing a hint of elation.

"Are you hurt?"

Seeing that he seemed to take joy in her misfortune, Dorothy became unhappy, "Hmph, it's just a minor injury."

Logan made no effort to hide his disappointment.

As he was about to return to his room with his bag, Dorothy hurriedly halted him. "Wait a minute, is there any water? Where is the water?"

The weather was hot, and after being busy for so long, Dorothy was thirsty. But she hadn't spotted a pitcher.

Logan glanced at her bandaged right leg, sluggishly walked to the table,took the pitcher, and poured her a glass of water.

Dorothy took the glass and took a couple of sips. The glass now was a yellow cup, decorated with flowers that looked like they were hand painted.

Coolness slid down her throat, and she subconsciously said "Thank you."

Logan chuckled: "No need, I don't want you to find another excuse to burn me with a cigarette."

Dorothy was immediately choked up.

Was the previous owner really so terrible? Did she do such a thing?

She glanced at Logan, who was still dressed in long sleeves and pants despite the hot weather, and hastily changed the topic.

"Where are your grandparents?"

Logan didn't want to answer, but to avoid having this woman making a hysterical fuss again, he reluctantly said, "Grandpa has gone to work and won't be back for a few days. Grandma has gone to a wedding banquet, she will be home late."

"Alright." Dorothy touched her flat stomach and asked, "Have you eaten?"

"I did," Logan's eyes flickered, saying, "Grandma brought us mushroom soup from the restaurant when she got off work. She asked where you had gone."

Dorothy: "Oh, where is the mushroom soup?"

She had brought the leftover lunch box from noon. But she didn't want to eat leftovers. Dorothy never shortchanged herself.

"I'll get them for you!" Logan immediately stood up and ran to the kitchen enthusiastically.

As Dorothy watched him, she thought, something's not right. Bare in mind, in the novel, Logan was engaged in an ongoing battle of wits with the previous owner. He disliked her immensely before he was abused by her, and used every method possible to try to drive her out of the Parker family.

If it was before, he would have either ignored her or picked a fight with her.

Now he is offering to warm up mushroom soup for her out of kindness?

Nicholas's mother, Elizabeth, works at the Women's Federation office and finishes work at four-thirty. The soup she brought home had long since cooled.

Logan skillfully moved a stool to stand on, then put the pot on the stove, poured the soup into the pot and turned on the fire to heat it.

Poor children are known to mature earlier.

While the Parker family isn't poor, and both Nicholas's father and mother were good to Logan, and Nicholas even treated him as his own, he didn't have any blood relation. Logan had been in this family since he was a young child, constantly making an effort.

He was only in the second grade of Elementary school now, but he already knew how to make some simple meals.

After heating the mushroom soup,Logan held the bowl with his hands, enduring the heat, and placed it on the table.

"It's ready to eat." He pointed at the bowl.

Dorothy leisurely walked over and sat down. She felt no shame in being served by such a young child.

She didn't rush to eat, but picked up her spoons and stirred the soup in the bowl leisurely.

Seeing this, Logan's heart nearly leapt out of his mouth.

"Eat quickly, it will get cold again soon," he urged.

Dorothy felt even more suspicious when she heard this. Would this brat possibly poison the soup?

She stirred the entire bowl carefully with a skeptical attitude, finally fishing out two large roaches from the bottom of the bowl.

Logan: "......"

Dorothy: "......"