Zhu Ran’s consciousness scattered, and he passed out again.
When he woke once more, he felt someone touching his forehead. Zhu Ran truly couldn’t take it anymore. His eyes wouldn’t even open as he murmured unconsciously, “Huo Boyan, I don’t want it anymore…”
“No more,” Huo Boyan said gently, brushing aside Zhu Ran’s bangs. “You have a slight fever. Drink some water and then sleep.”
A slight fever? Why did he have a fever?
Zhu Ran couldn’t think straight and instinctively opened his mouth. The warm water was a bit sweet, and he frowned reflexively.
Huo Boyan explained, “I added glucose.”
Zhu Ran resisted the sweet liquid, especially since it hadn’t passed through his own hands. Huo Boyan coaxed him for a good while before he drank the entire glass of glucose supplement.
Huo Boyan asked again, “Do you want to get up and eat something?”
Zhu Ran made a meaningless syllable. If one had to describe it, it was a bit like a little pig grunting.
Yet Huo Boyan understood and tucked him in. “Then sleep a bit more.”
Zhu Ran’s consciousness sank into darkness. He woke again from hunger. He tried to get up to find something to eat, but his whole body ached like it had fallen apart. Zhu Ran drew in a sharp breath and took over a minute to accept his limp state. He also felt that Huo Boyan’s self-assessment as “traditional” was sorely questionable.
Zhu Ran struggled out of bed but couldn’t find his pajamas in the bedroom—probably taken away by Huo Boyan. Even if they were still there, given last night’s wreckage, they probably couldn’t be worn again.
He spotted one of Huo Boyan’s shirts left by the bed. With no other choice, he wrapped it around himself and headed out.
As he opened the door, a rich, savory aroma hit him, laced with the fresh scent of medicinal herbs. It instantly stirred his ravenous stomach.
He followed the smell through the living room. Huo Boyan was on the phone in the kitchen, his expression stern as he discussed highly unrealistic matters. At the same time, he watched over a pot of hot soup, an apron tied around his waist, looking utterly domestic.
Hearing footsteps, Huo Boyan looked up and stared at Zhu Ran for a dozen seconds before abruptly ending the call. “Do as I said. Hanging up.”
Zhu Ran was still a bit dazed when Huo Boyan approached with a gentle smile. “Awake? Has the fever gone down?”
Zhu Ran wasn’t sure and replied offhandedly, “Probably.”
He didn’t even know why he’d gotten a fever—no, fragments suddenly flashed in his mind.
Huo Boyan had first taken away the little box he’d prepared, then produced a medical report saying he was clean, had never been with anyone, and didn’t want to use those things. But Huo Boyan had no experience either. Something had overflowed, gotten blocked, and pushed even deeper, becoming the culprit behind his fever…
Zhu Ran didn’t dare think further. To cover his embarrassment, he quickly asked, “What are you making? It smells so good.”
“Turtle kidney-tonifying soup,” Huo Boyan said. He lifted the lid of the clay pot, ladled a small bowl, and placed it in front of Zhu Ran. “It’s almost dinnertime. Have some soup first to tide you over.”
Zhu Ran: ?
He suspected he’d misheard and asked again, “Turtle what soup?”
“Kidney-tonifying soup,” Huo Boyan repeated. “Your body’s weak. This will nourish you.”
Zhu Ran: “…?!”
He felt insulted and erupted in fury. “Huo Boyan, you’re the one who needs kidney tonics!”
Huo Boyan shook his head with a smile. “I wouldn’t dare. I’m afraid you’d scold me.”
Zhu Ran: “…”
It was an utter humiliation. He was only twenty-one, in the prime of his diamond youth—when had he ever been so frail as to need kidney tonics?
“You really won’t drink?” Huo Boyan suddenly said pitifully. “I simmered it all afternoon.”
Zhu Ran: “…”
If it were just tonic medicine, he definitely wouldn’t drink it. But this was soup Huo Boyan had personally brewed. After hours of slow simmering, the turtle and herbs released a thick, savory aroma. And most importantly, he was starving—that was all. It had nothing to do with needing kidney tonics. Zhu Ran decided not to quibble with Huo Boyan. He stood and drank the bowl. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sit; he just thought the chair would chill his butt.
The turtle soup was thick and creamy white, rich and delicious. After hours of stewing, the turtle’s collagen had melted into the broth, blending with the nourishing, aromatic herbs, warming him through. If not for those superfluous “kidney-tonifying” words, Zhu Ran would have gladly had two more bowls. As it was, he absolutely refused.
Moreover, the soup was so thick it clung to his mouth, making his lips sticky and slightly cloying to his throat.
Zhu Ran went to the sink to rinse his mouth. As he bent over, he suddenly felt a chill behind him—Huo Boyan had lifted his shirt!
Zhu Ran shot upright in disbelief. “Huo Boyan, what are you doing?”
“Does it hurt?” Huo Boyan removed his gloves and glanced toward Zhu Ran’s lower back. “Let me see. It looks a bit swollen.”
