"Let's stay out of their feud." Jiang Yiyu put his phone on the bedside table. "What's the saying? Children and grandchildren will have their own blessings."
"You treat my brother as your son, so doesn't that mean there's a generation gap between us?"
Jiang Yiyu had a smile on his face. He turned sideways and picked up Jiang Xiaoguai from the pillow, placed him next to the phone, then slowly lay down and looked at Song Shengsheng: "He is him, you are you, different."
Song Shengsheng smiled and reached out to touch his forehead. "You seem to have a fever again." She withdrew her hand, opened the drawer of the bedside table, took out a thermometer, and handed it to Jiang Yiyu. "Take your temperature. It's not good for you to have a low-grade fever in the middle of the night. Why don't we go to the hospital tomorrow?"
"It's okay, it will be fine in two days."
Jiang Yiyu clamped the thermometer and coughed a few times: "My dear, when I finish filming next month, can you come and pick me up?"
"You won't be able to finish filming until mid-June next month, right? Or the end of June?"
"Um."
"I might not be able to come at that time, but I promise you that if I can make time, I will come to pick you up, okay?"
Jiang Yiyu nodded obediently: "Okay, dear, I want to go home with you."
Song Shengsheng touched his head: "I want to take you away too, but what can I do? My big star has never been just mine." She smiled and tucked the corner of the quilt for him: "Don't think too much, go to sleep, tomorrow is another busy day."
"Um."
After five or six minutes, Song Shengsheng reached into his lapel and took out the thermometer. She looked at it carefully against the light and it was 37.6 degrees, a low fever.
She put the thermometer away, stood up and took the hair dryer back to the bathroom. She wet a towel with cold water, wrung it dry, brought it back to the bed, and gently covered Jiang Yiyu's forehead with it.
Jiang Yiyu opened his eyes and looked at her, smiling: "Dear, hug me." He patted the empty space beside him: "Hold me, I will be fine tomorrow."
Song Shengsheng turned off the lamp on his side, walked around the end of the bed and lay down beside him. She rested her head on Jiang Yiyu's arm, which was open to her, and gently put her arm around his waist: "Go to sleep, I'll keep you company."
"Be good."
As soon as Jiang Yiyu lowered his head, the towel that Song Shengsheng had covered on his forehead slid onto the pillow. Song Shengsheng hurriedly half-sat up and put the towel back on his forehead.
"What's wrong?"
"Dear, can you kiss me?"
Song Shengsheng smiled and leaned over to hold his face gently, then kissed him on the lips: "Is this okay?"
"Kiss me again, I have a headache."
"You have a headache because you have a fever."
"Kiss me and the fever will go away."
“Am I medicine?”
Jiang Yiyu blinked sincerely: "To me, you are medicine."
"I really can't do anything about you." Song Shengsheng closed her eyes and kissed his lips. Jiang Yiyu looked at her with a smile on his lips. He raised his hand and clasped the back of her head, deepening the kiss.
After a long time, Song Shengsheng was a little breathless. She patted Jiang Yiyu's shoulder lightly, signaling him to let her go. Jiang Yiyu reluctantly loosened his hand that was restraining her. Song Shengsheng buried her face in his shoulder and reached out to pinch his earlobe: "Look, the fact proves that my kiss did not reduce your fever."
Jiang Yiyu held her hand, placed it against his lips and gently rubbed her knuckles: "I'm much better now, really."
Song Shengsheng raised her head and met his lowered eyes: "Did you think of me when you were hurt before?"
Jiang Yiyu probably didn't expect her to ask this. He was stunned for a moment and said softly, "I dare not think about it."
Song Shengsheng took back the hand he was holding and turned over to lie back in his seat: "You are lying."
Jiang Yiyu was silent. He looked at Song Shengsheng's profile, clutched the corner of his clothes, and after a while, he whispered, "I lied."
Song Shengsheng turned to look at him and listened to him say, "Four years ago, I was in a car accident... You and Song Ming came to see me together. I had taken medicine at the time, and you all thought I was asleep, so Song Ming went out to buy something, leaving you alone by my bed. You held my hand and cried at that time, I know. I heard everything you said."
"Four years ago...did you like me then?"
"I like you, I always have. But dear, I'm such a coward. I don't dare to respond to you, nor do I dare to say that I like you."
"Jiang Yiyu, you hid it really well." Song Shengsheng tugged at the quilt: "Don't hide it anymore. If you like it, you like it. If you don't like it, you don't like it. I hope you can be honest with me."
"good."
"Jiang Yiyu, I have a question for you."
"What?"
"On the day I graduated from high school, you asked someone to send me a bouquet of white roses. Did you give me flowers then just to repay the flowers I gave you when you graduated from your senior year of high school?"
"More than that." Jiang Yiyu turned his head to face the ceiling and sighed: "Do you know what the flower language of white roses is?"
Song Shengsheng knew, but she wanted to hear Jiang Yiyu say it himself: "What?"
"White roses are pure and romantic flowers. They are given to first love. They also mean that I am worthy of you. I hoped that one day I would really be worthy of you."
"Then why send one hundred and eleven flowers?"
"I don't know who told me that giving 111 roses to someone you love means giving her endless love... so I gave it to her."
"Is this your response to me?"
"What?"
"You implicitly responded to the fact that I like you. Jiang Yiyu, that was the boldest you've ever been to me, right?"
"Yeah. Actually, that day... I regretted it right after I gave it to you. After all, giving 111 white roses to a graduation was a bit strange. But you didn't mention it later, so I didn't say anything more. I thought you didn't care."
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