Zhai Xiaoli always seemed to have eyes in the back of her head during class.
She could spot anyone stealthily munching on a steamed bun or propping their head up to sneak a nap, even when she had her back to the students, scribbling on the blackboard.
“I’ve said it before—doing homework during class is a bad habit.”
“And—”
She shot an irritated glance to her right.
Her class representative was actually dozing off in her class.
Her stern gaze didn’t seem to faze him. The skinny boy was resting his head on his hand, apparently thinking it would hide him if he covered his eyes.
She strode over quickly. Before she could scold or remind him, something caught her eye.
“Qiu Lu?” Zhai Xiaoli leaned down. “Are you sick?”
Her expression shifted as she pressed the back of her hand to the boy’s cheek and forehead in quick succession.
He was burning up.
“How did you get a fever this bad?” she said at once. “Someone come with him to the school infirmary. I’ll call his homeroom teacher right now.”
Three or four of his close friends shot to their feet. Zhai Xiaoli picked Ji Yuxiao, the tallest, and told him to take Qiu Lu there, explain to the homeroom teacher, then get back to class.
He must have caught a chill when the weather turned cold lately.
Qiu Lu was so feverish he could barely walk straight. His parents rushed him straight to the hospital for IV fluids and medicine around the clock.
When the doctor saw his temperature had hit 104 degrees Fahrenheit, there was clear reproach in his voice.
“You should’ve brought him in sooner! Aren’t you afraid he’ll burn his brain out?”
“It’s our fault for not taking better care of him, Doctor,” Cui Mengmei said, frantic with worry. “We’ll make sure he takes a few days off to rest and recover fully before going back to school.”
Thankfully, the IV helped stabilize his temperature.
Qiu Lu curled up under the covers, drifting in and out of a hazy sleep all night.
Cui Mengmei barely closed her eyes. Every half hour, she changed out his ice pillow, checked his temperature, and wiped down the lymph nodes on his neck, armpits, and groin with warm towels.
She’d pulled two nights of overtime shifts already and was running on fumes, but she pushed through to tend to her son.
Her husband snored thunderously in the master bedroom while she sat alone under the dim yellow lamplight, watching over their frail child.
She had started to nod off, her chin dipping, when she jolted awake. Her eyes caught a glimpse of pale white feathers at the edge of the blanket.
Frowning, she picked one up and glanced around.
They didn’t have down comforters at home. The feather must have come in on her son from outside.
He was in his senior year, and still playing around like that.
She twirled the feather between her fingers, and her heart skipped a beat for no reason.
The color and texture looked exactly like that extra bit of flesh on her son’s wrist.
Cui Mengmei tossed the feather in the trash, unwilling to dwell on it. The thought struck her as ridiculous.
From two to four in the morning, she checked on him four or five times. When she took his temperature again, she found two or three more feathers.
Her son was still out cold, with fine white feathers scattered by his hand, his pillow, and his ankles.
Cui Mengmei picked them up one by one, forcing herself to ignore how out of place they felt.
The next afternoon, Ji Yuxiao came to visit.
“Hello, Uncle. Is Little Lu feeling better?” he called through the screen door. “I brought the latest worksheets and notes from the past couple days of class.”
Qiu Junwei had just gotten off work and waved him in for dinner.
This time, Ji Yuxiao glanced at the table.
“A two-day fever really takes it out of you. What did Little Lu have today?”
“Mung bean sprouts—the most nutritious thing going,” Qiu Junwei said, uncharacteristically chatty as he opened up. “You must’ve covered this in biology class. They’re packed with plant-based active proteins. Oh, and bitter melon too. With a fever this high, Little Lu’s got too much internal heat. These’ll help detox him faster. I picked them up myself from the market today!”
Cui Mengmei brought over a bowl of seaweed soup, smiling. “No need to worry too much. The fever broke yesterday, and with some rest today, he should be back in school tomorrow.”
“A fever can actually be a good thing. It makes you sweat out all that internal heat and toxins. He’ll be healthier for it.”
Ji Yuxiao smiled politely. “You go ahead and eat. The teacher covered some really key points these past couple days. I’ll go check on Little Lu and help him catch up.”
Cui Mengmei set down the soup and hurried him along.
“Thanks so much.”
As she pushed open the bedroom door, she didn’t mince words. “What family wouldn’t love a kid like you? Studious, ambitious, sensible, and so healthy too. Not like our Little Lu here—he’s been sickly since he was little. We used to worry he’d never grow tall.”
Qiu Lu looked pallid in his sickness, bundled up in the blankets. When Brother Yuxiao arrived, he didn’t have the strength to speak.
His eyelashes drooped, beads of sweat still dotting his forehead. He resembled a piece of jade hollowed out from within, leaving only a fragile shell.
“I’ll sit with him for a bit,” Ji Yuxiao said, helping Qiu Lu sit up. “You’ve got to be exhausted these past couple days. Go eat something.”
Cui Mengmei let out a heartfelt sigh of relief. “Perfect. Thank you.”
Once the bedroom door closed again, Ji Yuxiao gently fed Qiu Lu some water, his face expressionless.
Last Sunday, he’d sneaked Qiu Lu out of cram school and spent the morning sleeping with him, which had just started to bring a bit of color back to his face.
All those quiet acts of care had vanished in the face of this illness.
He’d tried it before—having Qiu Lu live at school with him always made the boy a little more outgoing and lively.
Qiu Lu took a few sips, and his parched throat eased somewhat.
“Brother Yuxiao,” he said, his voice a little hoarse, “I think my fever hit 41 degrees yesterday.”
“It’s fine.” Ji Yuxiao knew exactly why, but he couldn’t say it outright. “Everyone gets sick sometimes. We’re all here with you.”
He casually fetched the ice towel, rinsed and wrung it out, then laid it over the boy’s eyes.
Some things, he was determined to do. Some things, he was set on corrupting him with.
He didn’t care about the consequences.
“I brought some tofu from home,” Ji Yuxiao said mildly. “Your eyes are bothering you—rest them with this for a bit first. I’ll feed you.”
Qiu Lu froze for a moment, letting the chill blanket his vision completely as he groped for Ji Yuxiao’s hand.
Sometimes, he really wished he could be his real little brother.
It wasn’t that life in the Ji Family was too good, or that he craved any other perks.
He just liked Brother Yuxiao too much. Relied on him too much.
If they were blood brothers, he could stick to him so much more legitimately, bound by family ties that even kept them together for New Year’s dinner.
In the living room, the last dish hit the table. Cui Mengmei grabbed some chopsticks and started eating with her husband.
Ji Yuxiao listened to the sounds outside as he pulled the warm lunchbox from his backpack. He scooped up a spoonful of steamed bass and brought it to Qiu Lu’s lips.
“Be good,” Ji Yuxiao said. “Have a little. You’ll feel better soon.”
Qiu Lu obeyed, chewing a few times as he gripped Ji Yuxiao’s hand tightly.
Their palms were both dry and slightly cool, like caged birds touching beaks through the bars—or in this moment, knuckles pressing against knuckles, conveying a tangle of messy emotions.
He chewed slowly, letting the fresh, sweet broth flood every corner of his mouth.
With the ice towel over his eyes, the world faded into a dim, cold fog.
No need to see anything. No need to be responsible for anything.
“The tofu… it’s so good,” Qiu Lu murmured softly. “I really love tofu.”
Ji Yuxiao could even imagine it—if his parents walked in on this, they’d probably lose it completely and slap him hard across the face.
He didn’t care.
If they locked Qiu Lu in his room, he’d scale the outer wall to see him.
If they took him away, he’d hop on a long-distance bus to find him.
He didn’t care about anything. He just wanted him to take one bite of fish. To live like a person.
Even if they were about to become the same kind soon.
Nearly half the bowl of bass was gone.
The fish was steamed to perfection, with hints of green onion and the rich savoriness of fermented black bean sauce.
The flesh was soft and plump; one bite felt like a spring of vitality pouring into his withered life.
Qiu Lu hardly noticed the taste of the tofu anymore. He clung stubbornly to his big brother’s hand, silently wishing he’d stay a little longer. Just a little more company.
What a hopeless case I am, Qiu Lu thought.
I’m clinging to him with this illness.
Ji Yuxiao packed away the lunchbox and spread two notebooks out on the bedside table. Leaning in close, he whispered, “You ate food from outside. If Aunt Cui finds out, she’ll worry.”
Qiu Lu let out a soft chuckle.
“I know, Brother Yuxiao. I won’t say a word.”
Ji Yuxiao let their fingers intertwine, like the roots of two trees tangling wildly.
“I’ll go over some lessons with you for a bit. If you get sleepy, just lie back down and rest some more, okay?”
Qiu Lu hummed lightly in agreement. Then he groped for Ji Yuxiao’s hand and pressed his big brother’s palm to his own cheek.
“Am I still feverish?” he asked, though he knew the answer.
Ji Yuxiao slowly brushed his fingers over Qiu Lu’s face, then his forehead.
How could anyone be so obvious with a little white lie like that?
“No fever,” Ji Yuxiao said. He hadn’t even realized he was smiling as he ruffled Qiu Lu’s hair again. “You’ve eaten your fill. Get a good night’s sleep tonight, and we’ll see each other at school tomorrow.”
Qiu Lu had only meant to trick him into checking his forehead, but he’d gotten even more than he’d hoped for.
His eyes still covered, he tilted his head up in a daze. As Ji Yuxiao tousled his hair, he looked a little panicked, like he’d asked for too much.
Maybe being sick isn’t so bad, he thought childishly.
Cui Mengmei finished her meal quickly. When she returned to the bedroom, she saw Qiu Lu propped up against his pillows, listening as Ji Yuxiao read from the notebooks.
“I’ve saved some food and soup for you. I’ll bring it over later.”
She knew the boy had been suffering these past couple of days from his illness, so after thinking it over for a moment, she decided to cut him some slack.
“Even if you’re full, it’s okay, baby. Do you want an egg? Mom will go buy you a boiled one.”
Qiu Lu shook his head with a smile.
“It’s fine, Mom. I’m being good.”
Cui Mengmei stood there in a daze for a moment. Seeing that his fever had truly broken and he was focusing on the lesson again, she quietly closed the door and left.
Ji Yuxiao went through the motions of the lecture for another ten minutes or so, until he heard the television blaring in the living room. Only then did he push the book aside.
“Next Saturday is your birthday. I’ve prepared two gifts for you, and I want to give them to you early.”
Qiu Lu’s breath caught. Finally mustering the strength, he peeled off the towel, his eyes lighting up as he gazed at him.
Ji Yuxiao had a fondness for the work of an early internet poet from the old days. For his birthday this year, Qiu Lu had somehow tracked her down through an online forum and scored a rare out-of-print TO-Signed Poetry Collection.
He had always been so attentive to him. He remembered every detail.
“I got you a Switch.”
Qiu Lu started to refuse, but Ji Yuxiao gripped his hand firmly. “I know Uncle Qiu and the others hardly ever let you watch TV, let alone play games—especially not now, in your senior year of high school.”
“This console is my property. You can only play it at school—in my backpack—or here at my place.”
“Once you head off to university, it’ll stay with you. Even if I’m not around, it can still bring you some fun.”
It took Qiu Lu a long while to respond. “It’s too expensive, bro. I can’t accept it.”
Ji Yuxiao wasn’t about to let him keep turning it down. “The second gift is a codeword.”
“The codeword is two words: Little Fish.”
“Qiu Lu, at any time, no matter what situation you’re in, no matter what happens.”
“As long as you say those two words, I’ll come take you away.”
We’ll be one and the same.
We’ve always been one and the same.
