Since he wasn’t sure if Chen Gu had any appetite, Jiang Mian bought plain vegetable congee.
He specifically asked the owner to simmer it until soft, and after a moment of hesitation, added a box of small steamed cream buns.
Chen Gu’s fridge didn’t have bread or anything similar. Thinking that after he left this evening, Chen Gu would have nothing to eat if he got hungry, Jiang Mian bought an extra box of buns.
He even made sure to buy the soft, fluffy kind, worried that Chen Gu’s throat might be inflamed and hard food would be impossible to swallow.
Based on his own experience being sick, Jiang Mian estimated Chen Gu probably had a fever, but not a bad one.
After all, when he had a high fever, his whole head spun, completely disoriented, no energy to even speak, couldn’t think straight.
Even if Chen Gu’s constitution was better than his, it couldn’t be that much better.
Jiang Mian truly believed that before illness, everyone was equal.
Because he had to buy congee, Jiang Mian spent quite a bit of time on the road.
By the time he transferred subway lines several times and arrived at Chen Gu’s place, it was already past three in the afternoon.
Jiang Mian had been here a few times. Chen Gu had spoken with the security guard, so Jiang Mian could enter just by signing in.
Standing in front of Chen Gu’s door, he called Chen Gu directly.
Chen Gu didn’t pick up, but just as the ringtone finished and Jiang Mian was about to dial a second time, Chen Gu had already opened the door.
He wore a loose short-sleeved T-shirt, as if still in summer, exposing his sinewy forearms. His whole body leaned against the doorframe, his hand pressing on the door handle seeming somewhat heavy.
In truth, Chen Gu’s complexion didn’t look good at all. Paler than usual, eyelids drooping, and he didn’t even greet Jiang Mian.
Jiang Mian frowned, took a step forward into the doorway.
Once he got close to Chen Gu, even before touching him, he felt the heat radiating off his body.
…He might have miscalculated.
The door was closed by Chen Gu. Jiang Mian didn’t notice that Chen Gu’s hand was still on the handle, leaving him loosely trapped between Chen Gu and the door.
Jiang Mian also didn’t notice Chen Gu slowly locking it to avoid him noticing, only raising his hand to feel Chen Gu’s forehead.
This time, Chen Gu didn’t dodge. He just seemed half a beat too slow, blinking.
And Jiang Mian’s fingers immediately curled from the scorching temperature of his forehead.
Jiang Mian’s brows furrowed tightly. “High fever.”
Chen Gu hummed lightly, his voice hoarse and heavy. “Really? I thought it was just a cold.”
Jiang Mian pressed his lips together. He placed the plastic bag on the cabinet. “I remember the Medicine Kit we bought last time has fever reducers and a thermometer. I’ll go get it. You sit down first?”
Chen Gu said slowly: “Tired.”
He seemed listless. “Want to lie down.”
Jiang Mian considered his height and weight. “Then go lie on the bed.”
“No energy.”
Chen Gu whimpered again. He simply reached out and hugged Jiang Mian.
His arms passed around Jiang Mian’s neck, pressing most of his weight onto Jiang Mian.
Caught off guard, Jiang Mian immediately lurched backward. Only Chen Gu’s quick hands cushioning him prevented Jiang Mian from slamming directly into the door.
Chen Gu hung his eyes, feigning weakness, while inwardly chuckling helplessly.
Jiang Mian, this small frame…
Looks like he’d have to control his weight better next time.
Pinned firmly, Jiang Mian was dazed for a second, then jolted again by Chen Gu’s overly scorching breath falling on his ear tip.
His whole body stiffened, feeling like Chen Gu was a piece of freshly forged iron, burning hot. “Chen Gu.”
Jiang Mian raised a hand, managing to steady Chen Gu’s arm. “Let me help you to the sofa.”
The sofa was closer than the bedroom. Jiang Mian was very aware of his own strength.
Besides, Chen Gu’s sofa was the wider type you could lie down on.
Chen Gu didn’t refuse.
So Jiang Mian did his best to move forward with difficulty, supporting Chen Gu.
After finally getting the man onto the sofa, Jiang Mian looked at the table scattered with pill packets, his temple throbbing.
He crouched down, picked them up one by one to examine, and confirmed each pack was partially empty. For the first time, his own volition sparked genuine anger.
Jiang Mian suppressed his temper. “You didn’t take all of them, did you?”
Chen Gu was sitting on the sofa, head drooped, looking at him. Because of the high fever, his gaze was somewhat unfocused, the corners of his eyes tinged pink from the heat, looking utterly pitiful. He hummed lightly. “Didn’t know which would work, so I took them all.”
Jiang Mian: “…”
He exhaled. “Next time… forget it. I’ll tell you when you’re lucid, so you don’t forget.”
“I’ll remember.”
Chen Gu leisurely lifted a hand, gently hooking a fingertip onto the hem of Jiang Mian’s shirt, his speech even slower than Jiang Mian’s usual pace. “You talk. Whatever you say, I can remember.”
Jiang Mian inexplicably felt a poke in his heart again.
He pressed his lips and went to find the thermometer.
Jiang Mian was used to underarm thermometers, so he indicated for Chen Gu to hold it himself.
Chen Gu lazily lifted his arm, the picture of compliance.
After confirming Chen Gu had the thermometer properly in place, Jiang Mian went to get the congee.
After several line transfers, it was just right to eat now.
But Chen Gu tilted his head, like a stubborn kid unwilling to take medicine. “No appetite.”
“Eat a little. Taking medicine on an empty stomach is bad.” Jiang Mian opened the congee, lifted it up, and looked at Chen Gu. “Should I feed you?”
Jiang Mian thought Chen Gu would definitely nod. After all, this was likely exactly what Chen Gu wanted.
But Chen Gu looked at Jiang Mian’s fingers, reddened from the still-hot container, and frowned slightly. “No need.”
Chen Gu swiftly took the bowl of congee from Jiang Mian’s hands. “I’ll do it myself.”
Jiang Mian froze.
For some reason, a strange, uncomfortable feeling suddenly rose in his heart.
He heard Chen Gu, as if mumbling deliriously from the fever, murmur something both of them could clearly hear: “I can’t bear to.”
Jiang Mian subconsciously asked: “What?”
Chen Gu reluctantly took a sip of the congee, testing the taste, and said softly: “Can’t bear to let your hands do this kind of thing.”
Jiang Mian stopped for a moment.
He couldn’t quite name the emotion rising in his heart, but he knew that right now he felt this was a bit funny, yet inexplicably his nose stung with emotion.
So much so that Jiang Mian was silent for a long time. Long enough for Chen Gu to finish most of the bowl, frowning as he said: “Really don’t want any more.”
Jiang Mian reached out to take it, putting the lid back on. “That’s enough. Eating something warm to line your stomach, drink more hot water later.”
He paused to steady himself. “Next time, don’t take medicine like this. If you don’t know, you can call and ask me.”
Chen Gu’s eyes were lowered. He obediently said, “Okay.”
Jiang Mian then extended his hand toward him. “Thermometer. Let me see.”
Chen Gu obediently took out the thermometer.
Jiang Mian touched the probe end first, his temple twitching at the heat.
Then he looked at the temperature, and his entire expression soured.
“39.5.” Jiang Mian’s face practically scrunched together. “You call this a common cold?”
Chen Gu looked at him innocently and pitifully.
Jiang Mian’s lips moved. Before his second sentence could come out, he was already defeated. “Are you feeling cold or hot?”
Chen Gu thought for a moment. “Body’s so hot, but I’m very cold.”
Alright, a cold-type sickness.
Jiang Mian: “Sit. Don’t move.”
He issued the order succinctly, then stood up. But Chen Gu immediately grabbed his wrist.
Jiang Mian felt that terrifying body temperature again. “What is it?”
Chen Gu seemed delirious from the fever, pleading pitifully. “Don’t go. I’ll be good.”
Jiang Mian could feel it; the grip Chen Gu had on him was very light. He was indeed quite sick.
But Chen Gu’s constitution was truly top-notch.
The last time he had a fever like this, he was completely out of it the whole time. His father Jiang Liaoyi and his brother took turns looking after him. He had zero memory of it.
“I’m not leaving.” Jiang Mian said patiently. “I’m going to pour you hot water and get a warm towel for you to put on.”
He paused, remembering something. “Do you have any Po Sum On Oil at home?”
Chen Gu looked completely blank. “What?”
Jiang Mian understood. “Never mind. I’ll call for a delivery later.”
He first placed an errand order for Po Sum On Oil and also bought instant brown sugar ginger drink packets—actually, Chen Gu’s house had brown sugar and ginger, but the problem was, Jiang Mian didn’t know how to cook it.
He poured a cup of hot water and placed it in front of Chen Gu, then, with Chen Gu’s permission, went to the master bath in Chen Gu’s bedroom to get a towel.
This was his first time entering Chen Gu’s bedroom, but Jiang Mian’s mind wasn’t free to look around. He grabbed a towel, soaked it in hot water, folded it, and placed it on Chen Gu’s head, pressing it down over his eyes too.
But as soon as Jiang Mian let go, Chen Gu raised a hand as if to slowly push the towel off.
Jiang Mian held it down. “What are you doing?”
Chen Gu’s voice was full of grievance. “I can’t see you.”
Jiang Mian: “…”
“A long fever makes your eyes uncomfortable. You need to apply a compress.” Jiang Mian was completely using his coaxing-a-child voice, gentle and soft. “Be good.”
“Is there a reward if I’m good?”
Jiang Mian didn’t even want to think if Chen Gu was digging another pit. He just responded softly: “Mm.”
Looking at Jiang Mian like this, Chen Gu’s heart itched unbearably.
Although the sickness was his own design, actually having it was real. The high fever had long made his head ache and heavy, and indeed affected his thinking slightly.
Otherwise, Chen Gu wouldn’t have blurted out at a time like this: “Jiang Mian, you’re so good.”
He murmured: “I really want to kiss you.”
Jiang Mian stiffened.
He didn’t know how to reply to this kind of thing, so he could only pretend he hadn’t heard, like he usually did. Besides, Chen Gu was delirious from the fever; he didn’t necessarily have to respond.
But then he heard Chen Gu continue, still aggrieved: “But I can’t.”
Jiang Mian thought, Of course not, because their current relationship didn’t allow it.
Yet Chen Gu’s reason was: “I have a fever. I’ll infect you.”
Jiang Mian fell silent.
His focus hadn’t first been on the implication that if Chen Gu weren’t sick, he’d definitely kiss him. It was that Chen Gu cared about his health.
Burning up like this, yet still thinking about not infecting him…
Jiang Mian sighed softly in his heart.
He figured he probably was already infected anyway.
Otherwise, why did his nose sting so much?
Jiang Mian covered Chen Gu’s forehead and eyes again with the towel, completely obscuring them. Chen Gu tilted his head back, letting him do as he pleased.
Jiang Mian looked down at his tall nose bridge and those thin lips, made a striking red by the illness, truly having no way to deal with Chen Gu at all.
His heart ached so much, terribly much. As if countless boulders were crushing its most vulnerable, tender part—painful and suffocating.
In this moment, he truly wished he didn’t have his “superpower.” Yet he was also grateful that, thank goodness, he did have it.
Jiang Mian organized his words, blinked away the moisture in his eyes. “Chen Gu.”
He quietly called the person obediently letting him act, his voice unconsciously slightly hoarse. “What do you want me to do? Just tell me straight, okay?”
He said sorrowfully: “Don’t do this to yourself.”
Don’t use your own body as a chess trap.
If Chen Gu wanted him to ache with heartache, to confirm his weight in his heart, then Jiang Mian could tell Chen Gu: He had succeeded.
Because he truly ached so, so much.
He didn’t understand why Chen Gu had to hurt himself to “deal with” him.
