Downstairs in the lobby, Lucy Ansley, led by Robert Harris, went to the finance window to pay for the therapy and signed a guidance therapy agreement for one session per week over three months.
After taking care of these trivial matters, Lucy Ansley looked at the name on the agreement, "His name is Henry Ronan?"
The name Henry Ronan seemed somewhat unworthy of the grace and poise exuded by the man.
Robert Harris nodded repeatedly, "Ah, yes, Doctor Ronan is the most authoritative therapist. He's not only skilled in psychotherapy but has also made significant contributions in the field of music therapy. He's the center's living advertisement."
This praise was so deliberate, it was just like a salesman trying too hard to sell his own wares.
If he truly is a living advertisement, why isn't his photo on the wall of outstanding therapists?
Lucy Ansley rolled the agreement into a paper tube, casually stuffed it into the pocket of her sweatshirt, glanced at the photo wall, and quickly walked out the door.
Just as Lucy Ansley left, Thomas Chapman closely followed and arrived in the lobby.
"Mr. Ronan." Robert Harris approached with a file jacket, "This is Miss Ansley's therapy agreement. As instructed, the therapy fee has been halved."
The man lowered his eyes to accept the agreement, saw Lucy Ansley's neat and tidy signature, and his thin lips slightly curved upwards, "Did she say anything?"
Robert Harris earnestly recalled for a moment, then truthfully replied, "Nothing else, just asked for your name."
…
Nearing noon, Lucy Ansley returned to the residential house on Cloudsea Road, entered the door, drank a cup of water, and casually put the ingredients from the fridge into the automatic rice cooker.
A text message popped up on her phone, it was a package pickup code from the delivery station.
Lucy Ansley glanced at the countdown on the rice cooker, put on a cap, and was about to head out.
— Tie up your hair during the next therapy session.
Suddenly, Lucy Ansley remembered something Thomas Chapman had said.
On a whim, she tossed the cap aside, searched the room for half a day before finally finding a hair tie in the corner of the desk, and quickly tied her waist-length hair into a loose ponytail.
The newly opened delivery station was right next to the alley corner store across the street. Lucy Ansley reported the pickup code, and the station owner produced a not-too-big yellow box, an international package from overseas.
"You need to fill out your ID card to collect it, then sign here."
Soon, Lucy Ansley signed for and left with the package.
Meanwhile, at the front of the nearby small store, a few elderly women, chatting, saw her walk by and immediately started talking.
"This young girl is really unfortunate, in her early twenties, all her family is gone."
The station owner overheard the discussion and leaned out, "Aunt Zhou, is that true?"
"Yeah, it is." Aunt Zhou shook her head regretfully, "A well-off family of four, and now just she is left. It's said that her parents and younger brother are all gone. I wonder how this child copes."
The discussion behind was neither loud nor soft; Lucy Ansley heard it, and her expression became increasingly wooden.
At this moment, her phone buzzed in her pocket, displaying a string of long numbers, not a domestic call.
Lucy Ansley's mouth subtly curled up; although faint, a smile could still be seen.
The phone connected, the background on the other end was very quiet, you could even hear the caller's gentle breathing.
At first, neither said a word, as if silently confronting each other through the receiver.
Until the other side couldn't hold on and broke the ice first, "Alright, alright, when it comes to patience, sister really is no match for you, I admit defeat."
Lucy Ansley slowly strolled forward along the alley, "The package is received."
"That's it?"
Lucy Ansley said, "Thank you."
"Who needs your gratitude." The girl on the other end seemed a bit temperamental, snorted, "Have you been well lately? I'll be back in the country next month, remember to pick me up."
After a few casual chats, Lucy Ansley had returned to the bungalow. She held her phone against her shoulder and lowered her head to open the package, "What date? What day?"
"Arriving on the third in the evening."
Lucy Ansley's fingers paused on the box, and after a brief silence, she replied lightly, "Understood."
"Those books, I found them in overseas antique shops. They've been there a while, just make do for now, I'll bring better ones back when I find them."
"Mm, no need to hurry back, I'm fine."
Fine, my foot!
These words, the woman didn't say directly but complained in her heart many times.
Next month on the fourth is the third anniversary of Lucy Ansley's mother and brother.
…
Two days later late at night, the galaxy split the night sky, half stars, half moonlight.
SOHO Mall Hotel, two upright figures walked side by side down the steps.
"These old smooth operators, each one is eager to marry off their daughter to you, what an ugly scene." Finn Bennett hooked his right hand on his suit perched on his shoulder, giving a sideways glance at the man walking beside him, "There's still time, how about a couple more drinks?"
Thomas Chapman maintained an ordinary expression, striding forward steadily, "No, I've got something."
"What could be so urgent it needs handling at night? Old man Henry, how long has it been since you came out for a gathering? Living like a fifty-seven-year-old hermit even though you're twenty-seven, all that's left is to eat vegetarian and chant scriptures."
The man's gaze was detached as he glanced at him, ignoring him, directly getting into the Mercedes business car.
The car drove halfway, coincidentally passing Fragrant River Public University. Thomas Chapman glanced unintentionally and hurried to remind, "Mr. Ronan, it looks like Miss Ansley."
Resting with eyes closed, Thomas Chapman slowly lifted his eyelids and, as the car slowed down, saw Lucy Ansley waiting at the school gate, holding several thick books, standing there speaking to someone on the phone.
Thomas Chapman raised his wrist; it was already half-past eleven at night.
"Mr. Ronan, do you want to... give her a lift?" Although Thomas Chapman didn't know Lucy Ansley well, any girl that deserves Mr. Ronan's personal treatment probably holds an unusual status.
Being considerate is never wrong.
In an instant, the car stopped on the filter line beside.
Lucy Ansley just happened to hang up the call and also saw the slowly opening automatic door.
In the carriage seat, a man dressed in a white shirt and black dress pants sat with legs crossed, his gaze deep as he watched her. Perhaps the light was very warm, softening the intense aura around him, making him seem more poised, elegant and extraordinary.
Lucy Ansley nodded in greeting at Thomas Chapman through the car door and called him Doctor Ronan.
The man's narrow black eyes landed on her ponytail, his thin lips curled slightly, somewhat amused, seemingly satisfied, "Heading home?"
"Mm, waiting for the bus."
"Come on up, I'll give you a ride home."
Lucy Ansley looked to the left, not seeing the last bus for a while, so she simply got into the car, "Thank you."
Out of courtesy, Lucy Ansley sat in the seat near the door and naturally pressed the door frame's close button.
This ordinary action caused Thomas Chapman's attempt to press the control key to freeze in mid-air.
This Miss Ansley, who seemed to have nothing, probably used to ride in schoolmates' MPV business cars before; look at how familiar she was with pressing the button.
The door closed, the cabin's roof light dimmed, faint sandalwood scent wafted around, perfectly comfortable.
Thomas Chapman stroked the purple sandalwood hand piece and asked in a magnetic voice, "Going to University for night school?"
Whether it was due to last week's therapy effects, Lucy Ansley looked at the man's half-bright half-dark outline, and instinctively had a question for every answer, "Not night school, auditing class."
The man's eyes showed a hint of amusement, such an honest and straightforward answer.