Chapter 82 Chapter 82 "It's the kind of love a man has for a woman...
51.
I nodded dazedly, greedily wanting Gin's slightly cool palm to stay on my hot cheek a little longer.
He seemed to sigh, very lightly, almost inaudibly on my eardrums that were beating uncomfortably.
Then, Gin used his free hand to gently place something cold on my forehead.
The perfect coolness seeped through my skin, making me sigh comfortably.
It should be a fever-reducing patch.
My chaotic consciousness became a little clearer, and I struggled to open my heavy eyelids. My vision was blurred and focused on the vague yet familiar silver figure standing beside the bed.
"Am I sick?" I asked, my voice horribly hoarse, almost breathy, and then I answered myself, "I have a fever."
"Yeah." Gin said with a syllable of affirmation, "I shouldn't have indulged you yesterday."
You have not allowed me to be so presumptuous, but I have been so presumptuous many times!
...Sorry, I am a very frivolous guy no matter what state I am in.
My throat felt like it had been rubbed by sandpaper; it was dry, swollen, and extremely painful. I swallowed back the complaints that were about to come out of my mouth with difficulty and just frowned uncomfortably.
Noticing my slightly furrowed brow, Gin picked up the water glass on the bedside table, which had a straw thoughtfully inserted. He held the straw to my chapped lips, and I obediently opened my mouth, took the straw in my mouth, and sipped it.
The lukewarm water soothed my dry, stinging throat. Though it was only a drop in the bucket, it gave me a breath of fresh air. I spitted out the straw and, in my still hoarse voice, muttered, with a hint of presumption, "So...feeding me water is so serious? Aha..."
He uttered a single questioning sound: "Hmm?"
"You're asking even though you already know the answer." I muttered softly, then let out a long breath, "Garlic bird, Garlic bird, if you kiss me, I'll infect you with the virus. I'm sick, but Master Gin, you're the pillar of the organization, you can't fall—ugh!"
My words stopped abruptly.
Because Gin picked up the water glass without warning, tilted his head back and took a big sip of warm water.
Then he leaned over, held the back of my head firmly with one hand, pulled me into his arms, and held my chin with the other hand.
The watery lips covered mine precisely.
He passed the warm water over to her in a way that could not be refused, slowly and continuously. This kiss did not contain any sexual connotations, but was filled with a kind of almost overbearing consideration and sharing.
I opened my eyes wide in shock and was forced to swallow the warm water he brought me. His breath and the freshness of the water filled my lips and teeth. His tongue didn't even go deep, just to make sure I swallowed the water completely.
He didn't move away until he was sure I had finished the water, his long silver hair brushing my cheek. He looked at me, stunned, with a smile on his face.
"Honest now?" His voice was still low, but it was full of sarcasm.
I shrank my neck and pulled the quilt tighter around me. Subconsciously, I pulled it up, covering half of my face, leaving only my eyes exposed. I muffled my response, "...I'm already obedient."
"Wait," he stood up and put the cup back in its place, "I'll go get some porridge. Eat it and then take the medicine."
52.
The effect of the medicine made me fall asleep again, and when I woke up, I was in a warm embrace.
Gin was leaning against the headboard next to me, holding me with one arm so I could rest my head comfortably on his. In his other hand, he held his phone, the dim light from the screen reflecting on his stern profile. His long silver hair was casually spread out, a few strands draping over my pillow.
Although I was so drowsy that I couldn't feel the passage of time, I could still realize that Gin had been taking care of me for a long time. From the fact that I could see a reassuring silver-white light every time I opened my eyes and fell asleep again, I could tell that Gin had never left.
"Formation...?" I asked tentatively, my voice still hoarse and weak from illness. "Don't you... need to go on the mission?"
The Black Organization's codenamed member, top killer Gin, is either on a mission or on his way to a mission...Okay, it's true that he's not busy every day, but, but, he has been taking care of a patient like me all this time?
Gin glanced away from his phone screen upon hearing the voice. He lowered his head and first reached out to carefully adjust the slightly loosened fever patch on my forehead. His fingertips carelessly brushed my skin, bringing a hint of coolness. He paused, his silver hair falling as he lowered his head, partially obscuring his expression.
He didn't look at me immediately, but spoke a few words clearly in his low, steady voice:
"Taking care of you is more important."
My heart skipped a beat.
Am I sick and confused, having hallucinations, and unable to distinguish between dreams and reality?
Gin can even say such... uh, sweet words?
This was definitely sweet talk for Gin.
Taking care of me... is more important?
In his heart, my position... is it really possible that it can even challenge the Black Organization's mission...?
There was only a dim bedside lamp on in the room. The soft light outlined his silhouette leaning against the headboard, blurring the hostility that often surrounded him.
It seemed that he was no longer the ruthless killer whose mere silhouette standing in the darkness exuded a strong aura of death, but just an ordinary man who was taking care of his sick lover late at night.
Wrong, illusion, right?
How could I be on the same level as the Black Organization? And how could Gin willingly stay here and take care of a complete loser who had a high fever and passed out after just playing in the snow for a while?
I pursed my lips, swallowed hard, and then spoke in a soft voice, "Am I... really useless?"
This must be the vulnerability of being sick that magnified my emotions. I've known for a long time that I'm useless. My uselessness is the result of my innate physical condition and my acquired efforts. I just want to be useless.
But, I don’t know why, my mouth wasn’t controlled by my brain, and I actually said to Gin humbly, “I always seem to cause you trouble… I fall ill so easily… I’m like a burden, holding you back…”
In the dim light, Gin's dark green eyes were terrifyingly deep.
He didn't respond to my self-deprecation with "idiot" or sarcasm as usual. Instead, he reached out and touched my still hot cheek with the back of his index finger, his action filled with a strange kind of patience.
"Trouble is trouble," he said, his voice still calm, "but it's not for others to judge the severity of my trouble."
...See, I told you, Gin is a very, very good person.
Very good, very good...leader.
He is really protective when there are shortcomings.
That should be the case, right?
Or, more than that?
Before I could express my admiration and praise for Gin's wisdom and protection as I did before, Gin suddenly stuffed a thermometer into my mouth.
"It seems to be burning again." I saw Gin's brows frowned again.
I didn't move and waited patiently for the thermometer's measuring time to pass. The room was so quiet that I could hear my pounding heartbeat.
It must be the fever that's causing the heart to beat so violently.
When the time was up, Gin took the thermometer out of my mouth, looked at the number on it with displeasure, and then picked up the cup of water and pills from the bedside table next to him.
When he handed me the cup of water, he used the back of his hand to test the temperature of the cup wall.
Can you tell me? This is really fucking awesome.
Daddy Gin let me lean on his arms and took the medicine weakly, with the corners of his lips kept tense.
The keen sense of smell that I developed over the years of being around him allowed me to immediately sense his displeasure and guess who he was displeased with.
He must be unhappy because I'm sick. Although I'm fragile, it's rare for me to get sick like this every few years. But based on what he just said and his usual personality... I can be sure that the person he is unhappy with is not me, the patient, but Binga, who made me (?) sick.
Plain and simple, our Gin-sama is just so protective! How could there be something wrong with his precious...his subordinate and girlfriend? Even if there is, someone else's problem is bigger!
——The above is something I made up. Gin is not as unreasonable as me.
Yes, actually I didn’t know whether he was dissatisfied with Binga or not, but I couldn’t find fault with myself, so I spoke up decisively... and pleaded for Binga.
"Zhen, don't blame Binga." I secretly raised my eyes and looked at him from between my eyelashes, looking at his cold and handsome face, "I was the one who insisted on having a snowball fight."
Gin was silent.
I dishonestly tried to draw circles on his chest, but after I drew a semicircle, he grabbed my index finger and then forcefully separated my fingers, turning them into a clasped hand position.
"Formation?"
Gin used his other hand to re-place the fever-reducing patch on my forehead and patted my back: "Sleep a little longer."
Well, actually he didn’t need to tell me that I couldn’t open my eyes because I was burning again.
I found a position in his arms and closed my eyes, but didn't fall asleep immediately.
I suddenly opened my mouth as if possessed by a ghost, and asked the question that I had wanted to ask just now but was interrupted, and that I had asked a long time ago but received a negative answer, so I never dared to ask it again and would only subconsciously deny it first.
"Zhen." I paused, my voice still hoarse, but it clearly broke the silence in the room, "Do you... like me more?"
Not long ago, I asked Gin if he liked me, and he replied "I guess so", a very ambiguous answer. I was confused and wanted to know the exact answer.
"Is it the kind of liking a man has for a woman? Is there a lot of it?"
To be honest, I started to regret it after asking, and I even hoped that Gin would not answer me.
Is it too late to withdraw now?
How do I retract what I said face to face?
Can time go back?
Time seemed to freeze for a few seconds, yet it seemed as if it had not frozen at all.
I heard his voice, low and inquiring, "Is this what you've always cared about?"
...I knew it.
Damn it, he was so confident before that he just needed to maintain his current state.
It must be because of my sickly buff that I was tempted by Gin again.
Forget it, this can be considered as Gin's way of finding a way out for me.
Obviously, my status to him remained the same, without any change.
Maybe this is a good thing for me? It's also fair, after all, I...
I didn't say anything, not knowing what to say. I simply kept my face buried. The intense heat that surged up completely blinded my brain, and my vision went dark and I began to feel dizzy.
On the edge of sleep, I heard Gin say:
"right."
53.
The fever subsided the next day, leaving only some fatigue after the high fever. I lay in bed and called Binga, who was worried that I would die from the fever.
Binga seemed relieved to hear that I sounded sober, but his tone was still as demanding as ever: "I'm glad you didn't burn yourself silly."
This guy is obviously worried, but he's pretending.
Why are there so many tsundere guys around me? Is it because my physique attracts tsunderes?
"You'll be able to jump around as fast as you can tomorrow. Let me take another sick day today." I cleared my throat. "By the way, don't forget to help me check on the person."
"Check for people? Did I promise you that?" Binga asked me back, "Didn't you already fight me back by bringing in Gin and Vodka?"
"So what? I helped you. Don't you want to repay me?"
"Oh? What's the matter?"
"You caused me to have a fever. Don't worry about Gin's revenge. I'll plead for you."
That’s right, the one who touched the organization’s best friend is me.
"Haha, then do I need to thank you?" Binga sneered on the other end of the phone, "You have a fever because you insisted on dragging me to play snowballs with you, right?"
I chuckled and said, "Oh, my dear friend, I am willing to protect you from the wind and rain. As for where the wind and rain come from, don't ask me."
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The author has something to say: I just got off work, so there shouldn’t be any typos today…right?
Today I got a new description: Your work dedication is comparable to that yellow sponge
I'm obviously very dedicated to my work, and I haven't stopped updating this book! I only have three days off in September, how busy have I been [burst crying][burst crying][burst crying]
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Still no update today
I just realized that I owed you guys some comments and updates. You didn’t remind me, and you didn’t notice it either? Or you don’t need to add any more. [chin resting]
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