After leaving the hospital, Finn asked, "Master Jeffrey, are you heading back to the mansion, or...?"
"To the Western District," Jeffrey replied calmly.
The Western District meant going back to Rachel's rented apartment. Finn had no idea how long his boss planned to stay in that small apartment.
As they drove towards the Western District, at a certain traffic light, Finn suddenly spoke up, "Master Jeffrey, that's Miss Rachel by the roadside."
Jeffrey turned his head slightly and saw a slender figure sweeping the roadside trash with a broom.
She was wearing a fluorescent work uniform and had her hair tied in a simple ponytail.
Because of the cold weather, every breath she exhaled turned into white mist.
At that moment, an electric scooter, seemingly in a hurry to catch the green light, sped past Rachel.
The scooter brushed against her leg, causing her to fall to the ground. The rider didn't even stop and continued straight across the road.
Jeffrey and Finn witnessed the whole scene.
"Master Jeffrey, should we track down the scooter rider and hold him accountable?" Finn asked. In his view, his boss seemed to have an interest in Rachel.
Since Jeffrey had stood up for Rachel when she was forced to drink and slapped at the club last time, it was natural to expect him to do the same now.
Jeffrey's gaze was fixed on the woman who had fallen on the ground outside the car window. Old Master Gray's voice echoed in his mind again—"Remember what you said today, never be like him..."
He would never be like his father, caring about a woman. It was just a game, after all. And now, he wasn't Jeffrey, so why would he care about a sanitation worker named Rachel?
"No need to bother," he said, withdrawing his gaze.
Finn was stunned. Had he guessed wrong? Did Master Jeffrey not care about Rachel at all?
The red light turned green, and the car continued to move forward.
At this moment, Sister Rivera gently patted Rachel. "Rachel, are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?"
Rachel gritted her teeth and checked her injury. There was no broken skin or bleeding, just a swollen ankle from the collision. "No need. I'll just rub some herbal oil on it when I get home."
"Make sure to massage it well to disperse the bruise," Sister Rivera advised, then started scolding the cyclist who had hit Rachel and left without a word.
That evening, Rachel limped back to her rented room. As soon as she opened the door, she saw a figure already sitting under the lamp.
"Sis, you're back," the person stood up and greeted her.
In that instant, the chill she felt seemed to dissipate. All she ever wanted was someone to wait for her at home, even if that home was small and simple.
"Yes, I'm back," she smiled gently. "You must be hungry. I bought two takeout meals today. I'll make some soup, and then we can eat."
"Okay," he replied, watching her limp as she placed the takeout on the small table, then limp again to wash the vegetables and cook the soup on the electric stove.
"Sis, what happened to your foot?" he asked, even though he already knew.
"I just scraped it a bit. It's no big deal. I'll put some herbal oil on it later," she said lightly. But with every few steps, her expression changed slightly, and a thin layer of sweat appeared on her forehead.
Jeffrey pressed his lips together. "Why not put the oil on now?" he suggested, reaching out and pulling her over, then rolling up her pant leg.
Immediately, a noticeable swelling came into view, even though it was covered by her sock. When he pulled the sock down, the sight of her red and purple swollen ankle made his chest feel tight.
She thought she wouldn't care, that even if her leg was broken, Rachel would remain indifferent.
But inexplicably, seeing her swollen ankle made his chest feel uncomfortable.
"It's nothing. Just some herbal oil will do," she said awkwardly, trying to pull her ankle out of his grip.
But his fingers stayed locked around her ankle, holding it firmly in place so she couldn't move even a little.
A heavy silence settled between them.
"Where's the red oil?" he suddenly asked.
"In... the medicine box on the bedside table," she answered.
The next thing she knew, she let out a sudden gasp as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. He gently laid her down, then walked over to get the red oil from the medicine box.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he placed her injured right foot on his lap, took off her shoe and sock, and gently pressed his thumb against the bruised, swollen area.
The bone didn't seem broken. It really was just a surface injury, like she said.
Jeffrey poured some red oil into his palm and started to massage the swollen area on Rachel's foot.
His hands were strong and steady. She bit down and didn't make a sound, even though it clearly hurt.
"Doesn't it hurt, sis?" he asked. If it were any other girl, she'd probably be crying by now.
"It's okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "This pain is nothing compared to what I went through before…" She stopped for a second. Instead of saying "in prison," she changed it and said, "Compared to what I went through before, this is much lighter."
Jeffrey looked at Rachel quietly. He knew exactly what she meant but didn't say.
Back when she was in prison, even though he just stood by and didn't step in, the Howard family definitely didn't just sit around doing nothing.
A lot of people probably tried to suck up to the Howard family and to him, which must've made her time inside way worse than what a normal prisoner would've gone through.
"It seems like you've been through a lot," he said quietly.
"It's all in the past," Rachel said. The pain in her ankle was slowly going away, replaced by a warm and comforting feeling.
"Jeffrey, thank you. You're really good, a good person," she said with a soft smile.
A good person? His lips curved into a small smile. No one, not even people who flattered him every day, had ever called him that.
His life, the way he lived, everything he did, none of it had anything to do with being a "good person."
"Do you really think I'm a good person, sis?" Jeffrey asked, a little unsure.
"Of course, Jeffrey. You're definitely a good person," she answered right away. To her, it was so obvious, he was a good person. Her kind little brother.
"But what if one day you find out I'm not a good person? Would you be disappointed?" he asked, his eyes quietly watching her, like he really wanted to know the answer.