"Alright." Madeline White extended her left hand to her.
Claire Prescott took her pulse, observing her complexion.
Although the person before her was now over fifty, her beauty and figure had not faded. Her face, though lined with fine wrinkles, still possessed a lingering charm, like a well-aged wine, rich and mellow.
As she watched, she couldn't help but be entranced.
Until a gentle cough pulled her out of her trance.
Claire Prescott glanced at the man, gathered her thoughts, and focused on the pulse diagnosis.
After checking the tongue, she asked, "Have you been under a lot of psychological stress lately?"
Madeline White nodded, a slight ripple in her picturesque brows and eyes.
It seemed surprising to her that despite her youth, Claire genuinely possessed some true skill, able to discern her psychological stress just through pulse reading.
Claire Prescott explained, "Auntie, your pulse is wiry and thin, with congestion, and your tongue is pale, indicating that excessive thinking has led to stagnation of qi and blood, causing emotional oppression."
Madeline White worriedly asked, "Is it serious?"
"No, but excessive worry can harm the heart and spleen. It's better to be more open-minded, Auntie."
Madeline White sighed and confided, "I've been so worried about my son's marriage lately. I introduced him to a few high-society girls in the capital, but he wasn't interested in any of them. He wouldn't even meet them. At his age, I've never heard about him having a woman in his life. I even doubt if there's something wrong with his sexual orientation."
Claire Prescott was taken aback.
This was the first time she heard a mother question her son's sexual orientation, and saying it in front of others no less.
In her impression, whether in her younger days on screen or now, Madeline White had always been naturally elegant, with a gentle voice.
She didn't expect to see such a candid side in real life.
As for Keane Lowell, he remained unaffected, seemingly accustomed to his mother's remarks.
The man's dark eyes looked directly at her, deep and expressionless, yet carrying some unfathomable meaning.
She quickly collected herself and reassured, "Auntie, maybe Mr. Lowell already has a girl he likes and just wants to wait until the relationship is stable to introduce her to you."
Upon hearing this, Madeline White's eyes lit up as she turned to Keane Lowell, "Really?"
Keane Lowell frowned.
Under their expectant gazes, he reluctantly nodded.
Madeline White sighed, "If I'd known, I wouldn't have gone through the trouble of picking a partner for you."
Claire Prescott withdrew her hand and changed the topic, "Auntie, I'll prescribe you some herbal medicine to soothe the liver and regulate qi."
"Alright, thank you."
Madeline White instructed, "Bring paper and pen."
Keane Lowell readily found paper and pen from the drawer and handed them to Claire Prescott.
She then lowered her head and carefully wrote down the diagnosis, symptoms, and prescription on the coffee table.
The air was faintly filled with the aroma of herbs, and her delicate and elegant face complemented the tranquil courtyard, adding a touch of liveliness.
Finally, Claire Prescott handed the prescription to Madeline White and advised, "Auntie, I've prescribed three doses—one per day. Just prepare the medicine according to the prescription."
"Okay." As Madeline White accepted the prescription, she glanced at it subconsciously, drawn in by the handwriting.
They say handwriting reflects a person, and in this young girl, it seemed to take on a tangible form.
Yet she couldn't quite understand why seeing this young girl always put her in a particularly good mood, making her want to be gentle with her.
Just then, a servant brought out some dishes, and she closed her notebook and invited, "You haven't had lunch yet, have you? Stay and eat with us. I want to learn some health tips from you."
The word "learn" made it hard to refuse, and she didn't want to.
Having lunch with a goddess was something she couldn't ask for more, making her speak with trembling excitement, "S-sure."
The three of them sat down at the table, where five dishes and a soup steamed invitingly, beautifully plated and delicious-looking.
However, Claire Prescott's attention remained on Madeline White across the table, not even noticing the man beside her, or realizing when Keane Lowell had served her a bowl of soup, as if she was ignoring his presence.
Keane Lowell looked at her calmly and said, "Want to switch seats?"
"Okay..." Claire Prescott stopped herself, realizing her gaffe, and corrected herself, "No, I'm fine sitting here."
Madeline White slowly noticed her gaze and, after a brief thought, asked, "Claire, how long have you known Keane Lowell?"
At that moment, Claire Prescott was drinking soup and inexplicably choked.
She quickly turned away to cough it out in discomfort.
Then a hand patted her back gently, one stroke after another, with unusual tenderness, until she caught her breath.
Claire Prescott wiped her tears and turned to meet those deep black eyes.
"Are you okay?" the man's warm voice asked.
By now, the young girl's face was flushed, the soup blurring her lips, her lashes wet, evoking an inexplicable sense of pity.
Keane Lowell's hand moved away from her back, offering her a handkerchief with concern.
Claire Prescott thanked him, using the handkerchief to wipe her mouth in embarrassment, "Sorry for making a fool of myself."
Madeline White sighed in relief, sat back down, and comforted, "As long as you're alright. Just focus on eating, I won't ask you any more questions."
Claire Prescott wanted to explain, but didn't know where to start, so she simply kept silent.
The air suddenly grew quiet.
After that, there was truly no more talking, and Madeline White took good care of her.
Madeline White noticed that whenever she served Claire Prescott food, the young girl's eyes would light up. Sometimes she even deliberately left her bowl empty, waiting for Madeline to refill it.
Extremely... amusing.
It made her desire for a daughter grow stronger.
But since she couldn't have one, having a daughter-in-law would suffice.
…
When it was time to leave, Madeline White walked her to the door.
Claire Prescott slowed her pace. Before getting in the car, she couldn't help but look back at Madeline White standing not far away.
If she missed this opportunity, she didn't know when she would see her again.
Hesitating for a moment, she gathered her courage and walked towards the gentle and elegant woman, speaking, "Auntie, I have a small request."
Under her puzzled gaze, Claire Prescott continued, "Could you hug me?"
Madeline White was clearly taken aback.
Claire Prescott couldn't help wondering if this request was too much.
However, the next second, she heard Madeline White laugh and say, "Of course I can."
In the following moment, Madeline White embraced her gently, a faint, warm sandalwood scent lingering at her nose.
As her head was lightly stroked, Claire Prescott's heart leapt with joy, and it was as if a melodious sound played in her mind.
Madeline White softly asked, "Is that alright?"
"Y-yes."
Claire Prescott snapped back to reality, gazing into those softly glowing eyes, "Thank you."
Madeline White, in a gentle tone, said, "Feel free to come by anytime, let Keane bring you over."
"Alright."