Chapter 15
Since the CEO had spoken, he had no choice but to cancel on Mu Haoqiong and stay home.
As expected, it seemed the CEO’s sole purpose was to prevent him from going on the blind date. Murong Cheng waited all afternoon, but Duan Shao never sent any work.
But why would the CEO do that?
It was the weekend; it wouldn’t affect his work.
Was there an unspoken rule at Guangyu that anyone working closely with the CEO had to be single and available at all times?
He wondered if Duan Shao was married.
Despite wearing the CEO’s jacket, Murong Cheng still caught a cold.
On Sunday, his throat felt like it was on fire. Swallowing, eating, even breathing was painful.
Monday morning, his condition worsened.
A pounding headache made him feel like his head was being hammered. He felt weak and listless, barely managing to get out of bed.
“Morning. What’s wrong?” Mu Haoqiong, also just waking up, asked, seeing him emerge from his bedroom.
“I have a cold,” Murong Cheng replied, his voice thick with congestion.
“You look terrible,” Mu Haoqiong said, noticing his pale face. “Take the day off.”
Take the day off? The company offered twelve paid sick days per year. But he had never taken one before and didn’t know the procedure. If a doctor’s note was required, he would have to go to the hospital, which was too much effort.
“I’ll be fine,” he shook his head, sniffling, and went to the bathroom.
He would probably just be sitting around in his office anyway. He might as well rest there. He hoped the CEO and Duan Shao wouldn’t be in today. Attending meetings would be manageable, but he wasn’t sure he could handle a business dinner.
He had no appetite and skipped breakfast. He slowly got ready and practically dragged himself to the office across the street, heading straight to his small office on the 28th floor.
He filled a cup with hot water from the pantry and huddled in his long down jacket, shivering slightly. The rising steam warmed the air around him. He closed his eyes.
The leather chair was soft and comfortable, but he still felt terrible, longing for a bed.
He felt feverish but couldn’t check his temperature.
He really didn’t want to be at work.
And he felt a flicker of resentment towards Murong Yan.
If it weren’t for that early morning golf outing on Saturday, he wouldn’t be sick and miserable, forced to sit at his desk.
He pulled out his phone and messaged Duan Shao.
[Cheng: Duan-ge, I’d like to take a sick day.]
Duan Shao replied almost instantly, despite being out of the office.
[Duan Shao: What’s wrong?]
[Cheng: I think I have a fever.]
Without a doctor’s note, he felt a bit guilty. He touched his forehead.
It felt hot.
Fortunately, Duan Shao readily approved his request.
[Duan Shao: Go home and rest! Will you be alright on your own?]
[Cheng: Yes, thank you, Duan-ge!]
Leaving work early, despite the aches and pains, he felt a surge of happiness.
He stood up and slowly made his way home.
It was just across the street, but it felt like miles away.
He shuffled along like an elderly person, stopping every few steps to rest.
He finally reached the entrance of his apartment complex when he heard a car honking behind him. The loud noise aggravated his headache. He frowned and continued walking.
The honking persisted. He stopped and turned around.
He saw the familiar black Rolls-Royce.
Murong Yan was in the driver’s seat, the window lowered.
“Get in,” the CEO said, his voice laced with concern.
The car headed towards a nearby hospital.
Murong Cheng felt a pang of guilt. When the CEO called him over, his first thought was that he was being summoned back to work.
But—
Being personally escorted to the hospital by the CEO seemed excessive.
He followed Murong Yan into the hospital’s international medical center, wanting to protest but unsure how.
He was too feverish and weak to resist, so he simply obeyed.
He was examined by a doctor and then hooked up to an IV drip.
“Your temperature is almost 39 degrees Celsius. The doctor prescribed some medication,” Murong Yan explained.
Murong Cheng nodded weakly and lay down on the bed.
He felt exhausted, dizzy, and sleepy.
His eyes closed the moment his head hit the pillow.
But he was soon awakened by Murong Yan, who gently shook his shoulder and offered him a cup of millet porridge.
“Eat something.”
Murong Yan didn’t need to check the cafeteria records to know the young man had probably skipped breakfast. He couldn’t have an empty stomach while on medication.
He helped Murong Cheng sit up, his arm supporting his back.
Murong Cheng, his mind foggy with fever, felt a flicker of unease at the CEO’s attentiveness, but he was too tired to think about it.
He leaned against the headboard and slowly sipped the porridge through a straw. Each swallow felt like fire in his throat.
He grimaced and put down the cup after a few sips.
“Have some more,” Murong Yan said, his voice filled with concern. He picked up the cup and held the straw to Murong Cheng’s lips. “Be good.”
Perhaps swayed by the gentle command, or perhaps captivated by the CEO’s handsome face, Murong Cheng obeyed.
The man’s dark eyes reflected his own pale, sickly appearance. His expression was focused, his gaze unwavering.
Murong Cheng absentmindedly drank a few more sips.
As the IV fluid dripped into his vein, his mind gradually cleared.
He drifted in and out of sleep, Murong Yan remaining by his side, sitting in the attendant’s chair, occasionally working on his phone.
The private room was quiet, just the two of them.
While Murong Yan was working, Murong Cheng took the opportunity to observe him. His gaze lingered on the CEO’s elegant features, his high nose, his full lips.
People at the company considered the CEO aloof and ruthless, sometimes even heartless. But right now, Murong Cheng found him incredibly gentle.
The powerful CEO was sitting beside him, taking care of him.
Why had he been waiting at his apartment complex? He wondered.
He must have heard about his illness from Duan Shao.
But he wasn’t at the company. He must have been at a meeting nearby.
Had he left the meeting to take him to the hospital?
He blinked, just as the CEO looked up, their eyes meeting.
For a moment, Murong Cheng forgot how to breathe.
He stared at the CEO, a flicker of panic in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” the CEO asked softly, his voice gentle.
“Um…” Murong Cheng stammered, finally finding his voice, “CEO Murong, you can leave. I’ll be fine on my own.”
“It’s alright,” Murong Yan said calmly, returning his attention to his phone.
When the IV drip finished, the machine beeped. The nurse removed the needle, and Murong Cheng followed the CEO to the pharmacy.
The elevator reached the ground floor.
The pharmacy area was crowded and noisy, a stark contrast to the quiet international medical center.
Near the information desk, a row of claw machines attracted a group of children, clamoring for their parents’ attention.
Murong Yan scanned his receipt and waited.
Murong Cheng’s gaze drifted towards the claw machines, filled with colorful plushies.
Rows of Minion toys, holding bananas, hugging teddy bears, undeniably cute.
His prescription wasn’t ready yet. He walked closer to the machines.
Through the glass, he saw the layers of Minion toys, and also, reflected in the glass, Murong Yan.
The black cashmere coat made him look even more imposing, his aloof presence a stark contrast to the surrounding chaos.
He stood there, and the world seemed to quiet down.
The world was like a giant claw machine.
And he was reaching for him through the glass.
Murong Cheng blinked.
He must be delirious with fever.
He had never felt such a strong urge to be close to someone.
“Want to try?” The CEO, sensing his gaze, walked over.
Without waiting for a reply, he scanned the QR code and paid for five tries.
Murong Cheng quickly looked away, his hand hovering over the joystick.
The claw descended, empty, again and again.
On the last try, he hesitated and looked at the CEO.
Murong Yan glanced at him and took control of the joystick.
The silver claw landed precisely on a yellow Minion’s head and lifted it effortlessly.
The plushie dropped into the collection slot. Murong Cheng’s eyes lit up as he bent down to pick it up.
The toy was soft and fluffy.
He held it up to Murong Yan, who, surprisingly, reached out and touched the Minion’s head.
His fingers brushed against Murong Cheng’s.
A jolt, like an electric shock, and Murong Cheng heard his own deafening heartbeat.
The warmth spread from his fingertips to his heart.
He was doomed.
He had fallen for Murong Yan.
