**Chapter 367: Artificial Respiration**
Jiang Nanfang was sharp—she instantly noticed his awkward predicament.
*"Let me handle it. I'll pay for both."*
She scanned the payment and covered the eight yuan.
Just moments ago, he had thought she was crazy, but now she had saved him from embarrassment.
Zhan Beijue felt slightly sheepish.
*"Thank you. Are you from the TV station? I’ll return the money when I go back there."*
*"No need."*
Jiang Nanfang held up her phone.
*"Just add me on WeChat. You can transfer it to me whenever you’re free."*
*"...Sorry, I don’t have WeChat."*
*"You don’t have WeChat?"* She blinked. *"Are you using a foreign or local number right now? I can help you download it."*
Seeing that he was about to refuse, she quickly added,
*"WeChat is essential here—almost everything runs through it. Not having it is really inconvenient."*
*"I’ll download it myself later."*
With a nod, he turned and walked out.
Jiang Nanfang grabbed the two buns and hurried after him.
*"Mr. Button, just grabbing breakfast? Heading back already?"*
Because he owed her four yuan, Zhan Beijue’s attitude softened slightly.
Seeing that she wasn’t eating but instead following him with the buns, he frowned.
*"Do you need something?"*
*"Not really. It’s just… the weather’s so nice today, isn’t it? If you’re new here and don’t have friends to talk to, I can show you around."*
Zhou Jinbei had taught her all kinds of tricks—pretending to faint, tripping, acting fragile, inviting him to meals, clinging relentlessly.
But Jiang Nanfang couldn’t bring herself to do any of that.
Even though Zhan Beijue was her ex-husband, she still had her pride.
Managing to pester him this much was already pushing her limits.
Yet Zhan Beijue remained oblivious to her struggle.
*"I’m going for a run. Thanks, but no need."*
He tapped his watch a few times, set a route, and took off without another word.
*Seriously? Not even a second to react?*
Jiang Nanfang had planned to take a bite of her bun, but now there was no time. She tossed it to a stray dog by the roadside.
Soon, Zhan Beijue realized the "crazy woman" was following him again.
*What’s her deal?*
Her smooth skin suggested a pampered life.
She was beautiful, dressed elegantly, with a stunning figure—clearly a wealthy socialite.
So why was she so fixated on him?
With his height advantage, losing her was easy.
Once he noticed her behind him, he picked up speed.
Luckily, Jiang Nanfang was no stranger to exercise.
Her demanding job had kept her constantly on the move, so her stamina was excellent. This little chase wasn’t enough to wear her out.
When he sped up, she matched his pace. When he slowed, so did she.
Though a gap remained between them, she kept up relentlessly.
After over an hour, they arrived back at his hotel.
Hot and sweaty, Zhan Beijue lifted his T-shirt to wipe his face.
Glancing back, he saw her—breathless, drenched in sweat, looking like she might collapse any second.
Yet she had *still* followed him.
Her persistence reminded him of those obsessive celebrity stalkers—chasing someone unattainable, exhausting themselves for nothing but the other person’s annoyance.
He already had Min'er. No other woman would ever cross his mind.
Even if this one ripped out her heart for him, he wouldn’t bat an eye.
So after one cold glance, he turned to enter the hotel.
*Let’s see how she follows me into my private room.*
But just as he turned, a scream rang out behind him.
A street cleaner shouted as Jiang Nanfang crumpled to the ground.
*"Hey! Miss, what’s wrong? Don’t lie there—it’s filthy! What happened? Someone help!"*
Zhan Beijue instinctively turned back.
His "stalker" was now unconscious on the pavement.
The cleaner crouched beside her, shaking her—no response.
Grudgingly, he walked back.
Jiang Nanfang was light as a feather. With one effortless lift, she was in his arms.
*Damn, Zhou Jinbei’s idea actually worked!*
After running after him for over an hour without so much as a glance, all it took was collapsing on the ground to land in his embrace.
Listening to his steady heartbeat, feeling his warmth, she heard his deep, melodic voice above her.
*"Excuse me. Could you call the hotel doctor? Someone fainted."*
His English was *so* smooth—flawless, like a native speaker.
How had she never noticed how good he was at it before?
Unfortunately, the front desk didn’t understand.
*"Huh? Sir, what did you say?"*
Frustrated, Zhan Beijue switched back to Chinese.
*"Never mind. Our hotel doesn’t have a doctor. Should I call an ambulance?"*
An ambulance? A hospital trip?
He thought about his fake identity, his empty wallet, the hassle of hospital paperwork—and hesitated.
*"Let me try first aid first."*
He carried her to the lounge, laid her on the floor, and interlaced his fingers.
Then, with firm presses, he began compressions against her abdomen.
*Ouch!* His strength was brutal—it felt like her ribs might snap.
But inwardly, she was thrilled.
*Is he about to give me CPR?*
*Perfect.*
Even without his memories, they were making rapid progress.
An hour of chasing led to a kiss—maybe in a few days, she could take him for a brain scan, and soon he’d be back to normal!
As she fantasized, Zhan Beijue pinched her nose, pried her mouth open, and sealed his lips against hers.
*Ah, the familiar taste, the familiar feeling.*
Even though he was just mechanically delivering breaths, Jiang Nanfang’s heart swelled with emotion.
It was *him.*
Her Zhan Beijue had returned—heaven had answered her prayers!
Three rounds of compressions, three kisses.
She would’ve gladly taken more, but her ribs couldn’t handle another round.
So as he prepared for the fourth, she fluttered her eyes open.
Feigning weakness, she turned her face and coughed.
*"Cough… Where am I?"*
Instead of answering, Zhan Beijue scowled.
*"Do you have a heart condition? Or low blood sugar? If you can’t handle intense exercise, don’t push yourself. What were you thinking?"*
*"I don’t want to get tangled in a life-or-death situation the moment I arrive in China. Stop following me."*
He switched back to English, his tone icy.