Chapter 29 Yu Ling has a fever
Zhao Chen's whispered words, "I'll protect you," burned like a warm brand through Yu Ling's chaotic heart, yet strangely brought a brief numbness. A crushing wave of exhaustion, like a heavy tide, instantly overwhelmed her taut nerves and churning doubts. She didn't even have time to discern the sincerity of that promise and the man's impeccable acting skills before the overwhelming sleepiness dragged her into the abyss of unconsciousness.
This sleep was not a restful one. She was plagued by bizarre dreams—a flaming orange Lamborghini chasing like a monster, her parents' relieved smiles twisted and shattered by her aunt's harsh taunts, the cold ring of the phone echoing repeatedly beneath Zhao Chen's gentle smile... Cold sweat soaked her thin pajamas, and she felt like she was struggling in a turbulent sea. Every time she tried to wake up, she was dragged back into the vortex of chaos by a deeper dizziness.
I don’t know how long it took before my consciousness finally broke free from the quagmire of nightmare and floated to the surface.
Yu Ling struggled to pry open her heavy eyelids. Her vision blurred for a moment before coming into focus. The familiar ceiling chandelier greeted her, its warm, yellow wall light softly filling the bedroom. Her throat burned, and every swallow felt like a blade scraping through it, dry and painful. Her head felt like it was filled with heavy lead, with waves of dull pain that sent her temples throbbing. Aches permeated every bone in her body, and even lifting a finger felt like effort.
"Cough... cough cough..." She couldn't help coughing, her chest vibrating, bringing a tearing pain, and her throat was so dry that it was smoking.
Almost at the moment she coughed, the bedroom door was gently pushed open. Zhao Chen appeared in the doorway, no longer wearing the "economical man's" cotton and linen shirt he wore during the day, but now wearing a soft and comfortable dark gray home suit. He walked quickly to the bedside, leaned over, and naturally placed the back of his hand, which was as cool as night dew, on her forehead.
The touch was filled with unquestionable concern, yet the temperature from the palm was astonishingly hot.
"It's so hot!" Zhao Chen's brows were immediately twisted into a knot, and his low voice was filled with undisguised anxiety, "I have a fever." He withdrew his hand, turned around and walked out quickly.
Yu Ling lay drowsy, watching him disappear through the doorway, her heart aching with confusion. Fever? No wonder she felt so unwell... Did he get caught in the rain last night? Apparently not... Was it all this mental and physical exhaustion lately, and her body finally gave out?
Soon, Zhao Chen returned. He held a digital thermometer in his hand. Gently, he brushed aside the sweat-soaked hair from her forehead and carefully placed the cool probe behind her ear. A soft beeping sounded, and he took it away. The number on the screen made his expression even more solemn.
"39.1 degrees," he whispered, his tone heavy as if weighed down by a stone. He put down the thermometer and, like a magic trick, brought a glass of warm water with a clean straw inserted into it. "Lingling, drink some water first to moisten your throat." He carefully lifted her shoulders, letting her lean against his arm, and brought the straw to her chapped lips.
Yu Ling took small sips of the warm water from his hand. The cool liquid slid down her burning throat, bringing a fleeting sense of relief. She leaned weakly against him, clearly feeling the steady, strong support of his arm, and the refreshing scent of his body, a faint, clean soapberry mixed with a hint of ointment. This scent inexplicably relaxed her tense nerves.
"When did you come back?" Her voice was so hoarse that it was almost incoherent. She remembered that after he sent his parents away last night, he seemed to have received a phone call and hurried out.
"It's a little after three in the morning." Zhao Chen answered in a low voice while feeding her water, his movements patient and meticulous. "I dealt with some urgent matters. When I came back, I found you sleeping soundly, so I didn't wake you." His tone was flat, as if running around late at night was just normal.
Yu Ling didn't ask any more questions. She leaned against him, her eyelids beginning to feel heavy again. Zhao Chen fed her some water, then carefully laid her back on the pillow and tucked in the quilt. "I'll get the medicine, I'll be right back." He turned and walked away quickly, his steps light and effortless.
The bedroom fell silent again. Yu Ling lay drowsy, her physical discomfort magnified in the darkness and silence. The burning pain in her throat, the burning sensation in her forehead, and the aching in her limbs made her moan in pain. She curled up like a child seeking warmth, her consciousness teetering on the edge of lucidity and confusion.
Soon, Zhao Chen returned. He carried antipyretic and anti-inflammatory medication, along with a warm, wrung-out towel. He sat down beside the bed, folded the warm towel, and gently placed it on Yu Ling's burning forehead. The perfect warmth instantly soothed the pain, leaving Yu Ling practically sighing in relief.
"Lingling, open your mouth." Zhao Chen's voice was very low, with a gentle, coaxing tone. He held the pills in one hand and the water glass in the other.
Yu Ling was a little dazed due to the fever. She subconsciously resisted the bitter taste of the medicine and turned her head away with a frown.
Zhao Chen was not annoyed, and called out patiently again: "Be good, take the medicine to reduce your fever. Your throat is inflamed, and it will hurt more if you don't take the medicine." His voice was low and steady, with a strange soothing power, like a feather gently brushing across the heart.
Perhaps it was the fever that had confused her, or perhaps it was the gentle tone that had bewitched her, but Yu Ling finally opened her mouth slightly. Zhao Chen carefully placed the pill in her mouth and immediately brought the straw to her lips. She frowned and swallowed it with difficulty, along with some water. The bitter taste made her face wrinkle.
"Excellent," Zhao Chen praised generously, a hint of laughter in his voice, like coaxing a child. He put down the cup of water and picked up the towel, gently wiping the cold sweat from her cheeks and neck. His fingertips occasionally brushed against her sensitive skin, bringing with them a warm, wet feeling and an indescribable sense of cherishment.
Yu Ling closed her eyes, feeling the warm towel on her forehead, the gentle touch on her cheek. The careful touch, the close breath, scented with medicine and the crisp aroma of soap, and his low, gentle words... it was like a fine, soft net, enveloping her. The physical discomfort seemed to be shielded by this meticulous care, and an unprecedented sense of vulnerability quietly grew.
Zhao Chen wiped her sweat and applied a new warm towel. He didn't leave, but instead pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down. The bedroom was quiet, save for the occasional faint sound of cars passing by late at night and Yu Ling's slightly heavy breathing.
Time flowed in silence. Although Yu Ling closed her eyes, the drowsiness brought on by the high fever prevented her from truly falling asleep, her consciousness drifting between sleep and wakefulness. She could sense that Zhao Chen had not left, quietly staying by her side. Every once in a while, he would reach out and touch her forehead, feeling the change in temperature, then gently tuck in the corners of the quilt or replace it with a new, warm towel.
After an unknown amount of time, Yu Ling felt the dryness in her throat surge again. She couldn't help coughing again, and her body trembled slightly.
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