take care of

The room was quiet, with only Jiang Yibai's heavy breathing and the occasional sound of wind blowing through the window. The sunlight moved slowly across the floor, like a lazy cat.

Lin Xiyan remained in that awkward position, his wrist tightly grasped by Jiang Yibai's scorching hand, unable to move. He didn't dare to struggle, fearing to disturb his sleep. Time slipped by, his legs began to numb, and his waist ached, but he simply shifted his center of gravity ever so slightly and continued to stand guard, motionless.

Her eyes remained fixed on Jiang Yibai's flushed face, observing every subtle change in his expression. She watched his brow furrow in discomfort, his dry lips twitch unconsciously, and beads of sweat continuously form on his forehead.

Every frown, every uneasy twist, was like a tiny needle piercing Lin Xiyan's heart. The heavy sense of guilt did not lessen with the passage of time, but instead grew bigger and bigger like a snowball.

It's all my fault.

If I wasn't too troublesome...

He didn't have to suffer this kind of pain.

These thoughts swirled around him, gnawing at him. He even felt that Jiang Yibai's pain was much clearer and deeper than the shallow scar on his wrist that had already scabbed over.

The towel quickly warmed up again with body heat. Lin Xiyan carefully and slowly pulled her wrist, which had been numb from the grip, with her free hand. Jiang Yibai groaned in dissatisfaction in his sleep, his fingers scratching lightly, but he didn't wake up.

Lin Xiyan immediately stood up and walked quickly to the bathroom, almost on tiptoe. He soaked the towel with cold water again and wrung it half dry. The cold water stimulated his fingertips, which were a little cold from maintaining the same posture for too long.

Returning to the bed, he carefully applied a cold towel again. The cool touch made Jiang Yibai sigh comfortably, and his frown relaxed slightly.

Lin Xiyan knelt beside the bed, not checking the time anymore, but concentrating on repeating this simple action—changing the towel, wiping the sweat from his forehead and neck, and observing his breathing. Like a silent and loyal little guard.

At noon, Xu Panting gently opened the door and came in with a bowl of light soup and a cup of warm water. Seeing Lin Xiyan's back kneeling beside the bed, her eyes softened. She put the things on the bedside table and patted his shoulder very lightly.

"Thank you for your hard work, Xiyan. Let him sleep a little longer, and you should eat something and rest." Her voice was low, with gentle concern.

Lin Xiyan turned around and shook her head, her voice a little dry: "I'm not hungry. Thank you, Auntie."

Xu Panting looked at the obvious worry and stubbornness on his pale face, and didn't force him anymore. She just sighed and said, "Then don't overwork yourself. Xiaobai has a good physical condition, and he will be fine once the fever subsides." She glanced at her son who was unconscious on the bed, closed the door gently and left.

There were only two of them left in the room.

Lin Xiyan picked up the cup of warm water, carefully helped Jiang Yibai up again, and fed him a few sips. The water flowed through his dry throat, and Jiang Yibai swallowed more smoothly than in the morning.

Putting down the cup, Lin Xiyan looked at the bowl of steaming soup, hesitated for a moment, and finally picked it up. He imitated the way he fed porridge in the morning, scooped up a spoonful, blew it cool, and handed it to Jiang Yibai's mouth.

Jiang Yibai seemed to smell something, tilted his head slightly, and pursed his lips.

"Drink some." Lin Xiyan's voice was soft, but with an unquestionable insistence. She held the spoon forward again, "Auntie made this specially for me."

There was a rare strength in his tone, one he himself hadn't noticed, as if taking care of her was his only important and necessary task at the moment.

Jiang Yibai seemed stunned by the tone in his drowsy state, or perhaps it was subconsciously obeying Lin Xiyan's voice. He hesitantly opened his mouth and drank the spoonful of soup.

Lin Xiyan patiently fed him half a bowl of soup, spoonful by spoonful. Every delivery and every cooling was done meticulously.

After doing all this, beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. It wasn't because of the heat, but because of nervousness.

He put down the bowl and wrung out the towel again to wipe Jiang Yibai's sweat. His fingers carelessly brushed against his still burning earlobe, and the string in his heart remained tense.

In the afternoon, the sun grew blazing. Jiang Yibai's breathing seemed to have calmed down, but the heat hadn't completely subsided. He slept less peacefully, tossing and turning unconsciously, mumbling indistinctly.

“…Xiyan…”

Lin Xiyan was twisting the towel when he heard his own name and stopped. He moved closer.

"...It's cold..." Jiang Yibai curled up, his voice trembling with a bit of grievance, "...Don't go..."

Lin Xiyan's heart felt like it was being tugged at by something. He immediately tucked the quilt in for him and tried to put his hand back in, but Jiang Yibai grabbed it even tighter.

"Don't... go..." The man, still unconscious, possessed astonishing strength. His fingers tightly grasped his wrist, as if grasping at a lifeline, his brows knitted in pain. "It hurts..."

Lin Xiyan didn't know where he was hurting, whether he was feeling unwell or dreaming about something. She could only clumsily hold his hand back, pressing her slightly cool palm against the back of his burning hand. With her other hand, she gently patted his arm, whispering as if to coax Bai Yan, "...I'm not leaving. I'm here."

His voice was dry and stiff, even a little stuttering, and it was obvious that he was not used to comforting others in this way. But miraculously, Jiang Yibai seemed to hear him, and his tense body slowly relaxed, but he still held his hand tightly, and his breathing gradually became even again.

Lin Xiyan finally breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him finally fall asleep again. Maintaining this tightly held position, she leaned tiredly against the edge of the bed.

As the sun set, Jiang Yibai's body temperature finally began to drop noticeably. His forehead no longer felt as hot, and the flush on his cheeks faded considerably, revealing a slightly tired pallor. He slept even more deeply, and his grip on Lin Xiyan's wrist loosened.

Lin Xiyan tentatively pulled his hand out and stretched his stiff, numb fingers. He wrung out the towel again and wiped his face and neck, his movements even more gently than before.

After doing all this, he went to serve another bowl of warm porridge.

Jiang Yibai woke up a little more clearly this time. His eyelashes fluttered, and he slowly opened his eyes. His purple pupils, still hazy and misty from the fever, slowly focused on Lin Xiyan, who was sitting beside him.

"...Xiyan?" His voice was very hoarse, as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper.

"Yeah." Lin Xiyan responded and brought the bowl of porridge over, "Eat something."

Jiang Yibai looked at him, then looked at the sky outside the window, and his slow brain slowly reacted: "...I slept for a whole day?" He tried to sit up, but his whole body was sore and weak.

"Don't move." Lin Xiyan held him down, scooped up a spoonful of porridge, and handed it to his mouth, saying in a tone that could not be refused, "Eat."

Jiang Yibai stared blankly at the spoon being passed to his mouth, then looked up at Lin Xiyan's expressionless face, which was clearly filled with fatigue and stubbornness. He blinked, then suddenly, very slowly and weakly, curled his lips, with a hint of disbelief and flattery: "...You're feeding me?"

Lin Xiyan's ears felt slightly hot, and he didn't answer, but just pushed the spoon forward again.

Jiang Yibai obediently opened his mouth and swallowed the porridge. However, his eyes remained fixed on Lin Xiyan, unblinking, with a complex light flickering in them—surprise, weakness, and a hint of... indescribable tenderness and smile.

He took Lin Xiyan's hand and ate the porridge quietly, mouthful by mouthful, his eyes glued to her face.

Lin Xiyan felt uncomfortable being stared at by him and could only try to concentrate on feeding her porridge. Her movements were stiff and the heat from her ears was threatening to spread to her cheeks.

The bowl of porridge was quickly finished.

"Do you want more?" Lin Xiyan asked.

Jiang Yibai shook his head, his voice still hoarse, but with a hint of his usual sticky tone: "I'm full... You feed me so delicious..."

Lin Xiyan put down the bowl, ignoring his teasing, and reached out to touch his forehead again. His temperature had indeed dropped a lot. Although it was still a slight fever, it was no longer as scary as it had been in the morning.

The huge rock that had been hanging in his heart finally settled down a little, but what followed was a deeper fatigue and a lingering sense of guilt.

He lowered his eyelashes, staring at his hands on his knees, and said in a low voice with a strong sense of self-blame: "I'm sorry..."

Jiang Yibai was stunned for a moment: "...What's wrong?"

"It's because of me," Lin Xiyan said in a hoarse voice, "that you got sick. If it weren't for me taking care of you, you wouldn't..."

Before he could finish his words, his wrist was grasped by a weak but still warm hand.

Jiang Yibai looked at his lowered head and tightly pursed lips, sighed, and said in an unnaturally soft tone: "Idiot... It's none of your business. I caught a cold by accident..."

He paused, then squeezed Lin Xiyan's wrist with a little force. His voice was hoarse from just waking up, yet strangely gentle: "Besides, seeing you take care of me like this...it's worth it even if I have a higher fever."

Lin Xiyan suddenly raised her head and met Jiang Yibai's smiling eyes, which were tired but surprisingly bright.

There wasn't a trace of complaint or blame in it, only full, almost overflowing tenderness and... satisfaction?

"Really?" Jiang Yibai looked at his surprised expression, the corners of his mouth curved deeper, he took his hand and shook it, and began to act like a spoiled child as usual, "Our Xiyan is really good at taking care of people... She's even more attentive than my mom... I'll rely on you when I get sick in the future..."

He started saying these unbearable words again.

Lin Xiyan looked at the bright yet weak smile on his pale face, listened to his hoarse yet still sticky tone, and all the self-blaming and heavy words were stuck in her throat.

The cold wasteland in my heart seemed to be warmed inch by inch by these weak but still passionate eyes.

He took a very light breath, held Jiang Yibai's hand with his backhand, and whispered: "...Don't talk nonsense."

Then he stood up, his tone full of unquestionable insistence: "Sleep a little longer."