Chapter 49

“Go ahead and try… try it… try… try.”

Xie Ling stared at Qin Han’s mouth opening and closing, nearly spilling an entire bowl of porridge onto the sheets.

He fumbled to steady himself, his ears burning as he said, “I’ve never fed him mouth-to-mouth! At most, it was with a spoon, and that was back when he was five or six years old!”

Qin Han coughed twice and lowered his gaze. “But that post on the School Forum said…”

“You know what our School Forum is like,” Xie Ling replied uncomfortably, scratching his head. “Just yesterday, I saw one claiming you and I already have ten kids. Can you take stuff like that seriously?”

“…No, you can’t.”

Xie Ling was about to say exactly right when Qin Han’s lips curved again. “Giving birth is so tough. How could I make you go through that ten times? One or two would be plenty.”

“…” Xie Ling was at a loss for words. He nudged the spoon toward Qin Han’s mouth. “Be good. Drink your porridge and take your medicine. I think your brain’s already starting to fry from the fever.”

Qin Han held back a laugh and obediently opened his mouth. Just as he was about to sip, he paused again.

“What’s wrong now?” Xie Ling asked without realizing his tone sounded like he was coaxing a child.

“It’s hot,” Qin Han said softly, gazing at him. “Will you blow on it for me?”

“…Sure.” Xie Ling had never imagined that Qin Han—usually so composed and capable—would turn into this when sick. It had been the same the last time he’d gotten drunk.

Fussy, sure, but in an oddly endearing way that didn’t feel like a hassle at all.

After finishing the porridge, Xie Ling fetched some fever reducers from the medicine kit and made Qin Han swallow them. He also tucked an electronic thermometer under Qin Han’s armpit.

With an ice pack plastered to his forehead, Qin Han lay buried in the covers up to his chin, looking perfectly docile. “The medicine should do the trick. Hurry to your gathering. Sorry for holding you up so long.”

Xie Ling smiled. “No big deal. It’s not like a few more minutes will kill me. I can head out after we check your temperature.”

Two minutes later, the thermometer beeped. Qin Han picked it up and glanced at the display.

“How is it? What’s the reading?” Xie Ling asked.

“Not bad. Almost back to normal. Go on to your gathering.” Even as he spoke, his coughs grew harsher than before. At the same time, he deliberately slipped the thermometer back under the covers.

Xie Ling’s sharp instincts picked up on the dodge.

“Let me see that thermometer.”

“It’s really nothing…”

Xie Ling didn’t argue. He simply reached under the blanket and grabbed for it. Qin Han clutched it tight and put up a token struggle, taking the opportunity to run his fingers over Xie Ling’s palms and the backs of his hands. Then, feigning weakness from his illness, he let go.

Xie Ling snatched the thermometer, a smug little smirk tugging at his lips as if his tail were wagging. “If you weren’t sick, fine. But fighting your dad when you’re under the weather?”

His triumph evaporated the instant he saw the number on the display. The imaginary tail drooped as he turned to Qin Han. “Kid, has no one ever told you that when you’re sick, you need to be upfront about how you’re feeling? No playing hero and toughing it out.”

“…It’s really not a big deal,” Qin Han murmured, his eyelids drooping as he tugged the blanket higher. He looked even more obedient than before. “I’ve always handled it this way. I’m used to it.”

On this point, at least, Qin Han wasn’t exaggerating or lying for sympathy.

He really was used to it.

In that moment, Xie Ling felt his heart fill with the same sour ache from the night before.

Qin Han’s parents had died when he was young, leaving him with two older brothers and a grandmother—each more successful and influential than the last, but also busier. Xie Ling vaguely recalled a middle school parents’ meeting where Qin Han’s tutor had shown up instead.

And even if she wasn’t busy, Xie Ling doubted Ye Shuanghua lavished her grandson with much warmth, judging by how she’d raised him.

What kind of environment had shaped Qin Han? Right then, Xie Ling desperately wanted to know.

“No one taught you? Well, Dad’s teaching you now. When you’re sick, you tell me exactly where it hurts—hot, cold, achy, whatever. No more dumb stunts like hiding the thermometer.”

The guy was running a 39-degree fever and still claiming it was nothing!

Xie Ling fished his phone from his pocket. “Hang tight. I’m calling Yu Rong. No gathering for me today.”

Qin Han coughed weakly. “…That doesn’t seem right.”

“Nothing wrong with it,” Xie Ling said. “You rest. I’ll make the call and come right back in.”

“…Okay.” As Xie Ling stepped out, Qin Han’s lips curved in secret satisfaction.

~~~

Only after he was outside did Xie Ling notice the string of missed calls from Yu Rong. He’d been too busy tending to Qin Han to hear his phone buzzing in the bedroom.

He called back immediately.

The line connected to the sound of Zhang Chengrui’s voice: “Whoa! These snails are insanely good!”

Yu Rong’s tone was icy. “The snails on this table have already reincarnated once over. Finally remembered to call me back, huh?”

Xie Ling knew he was in the wrong and rubbed his nose with a sheepish grin. “Sorry, got tied up earlier and forgot.”

Yu Rong tsked. “Get over here already. I saved all your favorites. We can order more if it’s not enough.”

“Afraid I can’t make it today. Qin Han’s not doing great. I want to stick around and keep him company.”

“???” Yu Rong’s voice dropped an octave. “Not doing great? You know how he got this sick? He brought it on himself.”

“Yu Rong,” Xie Ling said warningly.

Catching the edge in Xie Ling’s tone, Yu Rong softened a bit. “I’m not picking on him, okay? After I dropped you two off today, I went to the station to wait for my bus and ran into a couple of your First High School boarders. Guess what they were saying?”

One of them had been waving his dormitory card excitedly, bragging to the other that Qin Han had borrowed it at noon.

“Real or fake? Why would Qin God borrow your card?”

“I had no clue at first. But when he brought it back, I figured it out—he’d used my card to get into the dorms and take a shower!”

“A shower? Why would Qin God suddenly shower at school out of nowhere?”

“No idea. But this card’s worth a fortune now, waaah! Gotta treasure it! You should’ve seen how badass he was. December weather, and after his shower, he hands it back in just a white dress shirt—sleeves rolled up. I was freezing just looking at him. And get this: not a single cent missing from the balance!”

“So?”

“You’re dense. That means Qin God took a cold shower!”

First High School’s dorms required a dormitory card for entry. You could load money onto them for hot showers, but cold water was free.

Xie Ling fell silent as it sank in. No wonder he hadn’t spotted Qin Han during the big event today. A cold shower? But why?

Yu Rong went on, “Remember junior high? Whenever we tried going out, he’d always find a way to sabotage it. And now…”

“It’s different now,” Xie Ling said reflexively, defending him. “He’s really changed. He’s even skipping class with me now. Just this semester, our combined write-ups could paper the school bulletin board.”

Silence stretched on the other end. Xie Ling was wondering if the signal had cut out when Yu Rong spoke again. “Next Saturday—two days before I head back to France—is my birthday. You didn’t forget, right?”

Xie Ling chuckled. “How could I forget my boy’s birthday? I send you gifts every year.”

Yu Rong hummed in acknowledgment. “I’m booking that restaurant Uncle Xie used to take us to as kids. You’ll come, yeah?”

“Of course! Today’s just a freak incident.” Thinking Yu Rong was miffed about being ditched, Xie Ling cooed like he would to a kid. “I’ll bring double the presents.”

“No need. When you get there… I have something to tell you.”

Xie Ling sensed the shift in tone and paused. “What is it…”

“Xie Ling.” A faint, ghostly voice came from behind him.

He whirled around to find Qin Han standing barefoot on the floor. “I’ll definitely be there. Got something to handle now—talk later.” He cut the call and hurried over. “Why’d you come out barefoot? Think 39 degrees isn’t thrilling enough? Aiming for 390?”

“It’s fine. The AC’s cranked up in here—no chill at all,” Qin Han said with a smile. “You were on the phone forever. If it’s inconvenient, maybe you should just…”

“Nothing inconvenient about it.” Xie Ling herded him back inside. “Get back in bed. I’ll grab you some water.”

He poured a glass and handed it over, then said, “Rest up. I’m heading out for a bit.”

Qin Han caught his wrist, gazing up at him pleadingly. “Before I fall asleep… stay and keep me company?”

Xie Ling laughed. “Qin God, you’re pretty clingy when you’ve got a fever, huh.”

It was normal for a kid who’d never known much affection, though. With the heart of an elder brother and father figure, Xie Ling dragged a swivel chair from the desk and sat beside the bed. “Bro’s right here. Go to sleep.”

Qin Han kept staring.

Xie Ling blinked. “…What?”

“I suddenly feel a bit cold.”

“Told you you’d catch a chill running around like that. Hang on—I’ll grab another blanket from my mom’s room.”

Xie Ling rose to his feet, only to be yanked back by Qin Han. The man who had been too feeble moments ago to even lift a spoon to his lips suddenly found some burst of strength from who knew where and dragged Xie Ling straight down onto the bed.

The world spun before his eyes. Xie Ling instinctively squeezed them shut. When he opened them again, he found his head resting squarely on Qin Han’s chest.

Even through the thick layer of cotton bedding between them, Xie Ling could inexplicably hear Qin Han’s heartbeat—steady thumps battering against his eardrums.

Xie Ling froze for a moment. He started to push himself up, but Qin Han’s hands clamped down firmly on his shoulders and waist, holding him in place.

“I’m not contagious. It’s not a cold.”

“I know. That’s not what I’m worried about…”

“Feeding Yu Rong that porridge mouth-to-mouth was fake,” Qin Han said slowly. “But what about stripping down and holding him to keep him warm? Or singing him that lullaby? Were those real?”

“Of course not…” Xie Ling blurted out on instinct.

“Shh.” The soft, low hiss landed clearly in Xie Ling’s ear. He fell instantly silent, and the room grew so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

After a moment, Qin Han spoke again. “Teachers always say good children don’t lie. Especially not hotshots as impressive as you.”

Xie Ling snapped back to his senses, only then noticing the warmth blooming on his neck. Qin Han had at some point rested a fingertip lightly against his carotid pulse.

“…You’ve studied lie detection?” Xie Ling exclaimed in surprise.

Qin Han let out a soft chuckle. “Just the basics. Mostly, I can feel your pheromones fluctuating.”

Xie Ling made a small noise of acknowledgment, feeling inexplicably guilty. “Okay, fine, it wasn’t exactly about keeping him warm. That was back when he was five or six. He spiked a sudden fever at the swimming pool and kept complaining he was cold, so I just gave him a paternal hug.”

Qin Han said nothing. Xie Ling pressed on. “As for the lullaby—not every kid is as gifted and precocious as I was. He was throwing a fit the whole ride to the hospital. I was afraid he’d distract my dad while he was driving, so I sang him one in the car to get him to sleep.”

Qin Han hummed in acknowledgment. “Well, I’m feeling cold right now too. How about giving me a paternal hug?”

As he spoke, his fingers toyed with the slightly longer tips of Xie Ling’s hair, twisting them around one loop… then two… until there was no more to wrap. He stopped with evident regret, then added with gentle emphasis, “The kind where we take our clothes off.”