This sudden episode plunged Chen Jiaojiao into a high fever the very thing Meng Jin feared most. Since childhood, every time Jiaojiao fell ill with a fever, it became a prolonged battle. Even after the high fever subsided, a low-grade fever would linger, and recovery was never possible in less than a week.
He stayed by the hospital bed, his gaze fixed on the deep furrow between Chen Jiaojiao’s brows, while the doctor’s words echoed in his ears: “Mr. Chen experienced intense headaches triggered by stimulation from someone familiar. As for whether his memory will return, we’ll have to wait until he wakes up to determine.”
“Memory recovery” these four words struck Meng Jin like a heavy hammer, leaving his heart numb and panic flooding over him once again. He held Chen Jiaojiao’s burning hand, pressing it reverently against his lips, kissing it gently over and over.
“Jiaojiao.” he murmured softly, as if in prayer or repentance. A tear slipped from his eye and fell onto Chen Jiaojiao’s fingertip. “Was I wrong?”
I had no other choice. I can’t live without you. I couldn’t find a better way.
I indulged in fleeting moments of happiness, but this happiness was also a slow-acting poison. Once the time came, it could take a life in an instant. But did this moment have to arrive so soon?
Deep down, Meng Jin knew better than anyone that even if given another chance, he would still choose the path of “deception.”
Chen Jiaojiao remained unconscious for a day and a night. When he finally awoke, his mind was blurred by the high fever, and he could only rely on nutrient infusions. In just a few days, the slight plumpness he had managed to regain in his cheeks vanished rapidly, leaving his chin so sharp it was heartbreaking.
Meng Jin never left his side, handling all his work in the small adjoining room of the hospital ward. The usually meticulous Mr. Meng now wore an expression of lingering exhaustion and weariness, his eyes bloodshot.
The person on the bed drifted in and out of disconnected dreams. Though many figures appeared in these dreams, he recognized only one Meng Jin. The dreams were dark, oppressive, and filled with inexplicable sorrow. He often saw himself curled up on a bed or in a corner, weeping silently, stifling his sobs.
“Jiaojiao?”
Meng Jin had just returned from changing the warm water when he saw the person on the bed tightly shut his eyes, tears streaming continuously from the corners, quickly soaking the pillowcase.
His heart tightened, and he immediately pressed the call button. Gently wiping away the cold tear tracks with his thumb, he called out in a low, hoarse, and tender voice, “Jiaojiao? Wake up, it’s just a nightmare.”
Amid Chen Jiaojiao’s unconscious sobs, the words, though faint and unclear, struck Meng Jin’s ears with piercing clarity: “Brother why.”
“You’re my brother it’s not allowed please.”
Meng Jin’s body stiffened abruptly, and all his movements froze. He watched in silence as the doctors and nurses entered, administered medication, and injected a sedative, watching Chen Jiaojiao slip back into a quiet sleep.
The room fell into silence once more, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the monitors.
He stood there, as if turned into a lifeless statue. Those two words “brother” were spoken in a familiar tone, laden with immense pain, accusation, and pleading.
The forgotten past remained etched deep within Chen Jiaojiao’s soul, always surfacing unexpectedly to deliver a fatal blow to Meng Jin, who had been lost in the illusion of happiness.
Meng Jin knew he was living on borrowed time, yet had no idea when the final moment would arrive. He could only live each day in trepidation, aware that all present happiness had long been priced.
By the fourth day, the high fever finally subsided, and Chen Jiaojiao regained a moment of clarity. He opened his eyes, but before he could speak, he felt the dry, painful scratch in his throat.
At that moment, Meng Jin was sitting on the sofa attending an online meeting. The faint rustling behind him made his body stiffen almost imperceptibly. For a fleeting second, it felt as if he had returned to the day Chen Jiaojiao first woke in the hospital. He lowered his lashes, concealing the turbulent emotions swirling in his eyes. His knuckles turned white from the force of his grip, and he did not turn around immediately, as if awaiting a verdict that would determine life or death.
“Meng Jin.” Chen Jiaojiao squinted against the sunlight streaming through the window, propping himself up halfway. His voice was hoarse as he called softly, “I’m thirsty.”
The documents were gently placed on the table. Meng Jin closed his eyes for a moment, releasing a breath so faint it was almost inaudible. His near-dead heart suddenly revived. He quickly wrapped up the meeting arrangements, stood up, and went to pour water.
“Did I interrupt your work?” Chen Jiaojiao hadn’t noticed the laptop in front of Meng Jin earlier, assuming he was just reviewing documents. Feeling a pang of regret, he reached out to take the glass from Meng Jin’s hand. “I can do it myself.”
Meng Jin held his hand, bringing it to his lips for a feather-light kiss barely a touch before letting go. “No, the meeting was almost over anyway.”
Chen Jiaojiao’s heart skipped a beat, his fingers retracting as if shocked. He drank most of the water from Meng Jin’s hand, the pain in his throat gradually easing. Having drifted in and out of consciousness these past few days, he had long lost track of time. “What’s the date today?”
“September 2nd.” Meng Jin set the glass aside just as the doctors entered. “You’ve been unconscious for four days.”
Chen Jiaojiao instinctively sought Meng Jin’s hand, intertwining their fingers. The warmth from his palm dispelled the unease in his heart, giving him the courage to face what lay ahead.
After the doctors left and the room fell silent again, Chen Jiaojiao finally took a closer look at Meng Jin. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and stubble dotted his jaw. The usual air of refined neatness was replaced by a weary, disheveled exhaustion, yet it carried a different kind of charm.
Knowing it was because Meng Jin had been caring for him, Chen Jiaojiao felt a surge of guilt. He pursed his lips softly and whispered an invitation, “Do you want to come up and rest for a while?”
In this private hospital, the bed was much more spacious. Meng Jin took off his jacket, lifted the blanket, and pulled Chen Jiaojiao into his arms. Only when their bodies were pressed tightly together did his anxious heart finally settle.
“Jiaojiao.” His voice carried a barely detectable note of hesitation as he spoke softly, “These past few days did you have nightmares?”
“Hmm?” Chen Jiaojiao’s eyes were filled with confusion. He had no memory of anything during his unconsciousness. “Why do you ask?”
“You cried while you had the fever.” Meng Jin held him tighter, his voice muffled in Chen Jiaojiao’s hair. “The doctor said it might have been nightmares.”
“I don’t remember.” Chen Jiaojiao shook his head. It was always like this he rarely remembered his dreams. “Was it really bad?”
“Yes.” Meng Jin’s tense body finally relaxed, his fingertips gently tracing Chen Jiaojiao’s knuckles. “You looked so pitiful.”
Chen Jiaojiao wanted to say more, but seeing that Meng Jin had already closed his eyes, he swallowed his words. Quietly, he rested his head against Meng Jin’s chest.
Only then did he belatedly realize that the hospital bed wasn’t actually that big the two of them had to press tightly together to avoid falling off.
He gently touched his cheek. Hmm, it felt a little warm. Could he be running a fever again?
Thankfully, he didn’t relapse this time. After another day of observation in the hospital, he was finally discharged and went home.
Having been away for five days, the moment he stepped through the door, Nian Gao pounced toward him. But before reaching Chen Jiaojiao, Meng Jin intercepted the little one halfway.
“Your dad just got better.” Meng Jin held the little guy gently by the scruff of his neck, warning him with a serious expression. “Don’t bother him, understand?”
Nian Gao didn’t understand any of this. He whimpered and looked at Chen Jiaojiao with his big, wet eyes.
Chen Jiaojiao’s heart softened. He half-crouched beside Meng Jin, freeing Nian Gao from his grasp a parent who loved to indulge his child and ruffled his fur. “Don’t worry! It’ll be fine.”
Meng Jin let out a soft hum, handing his coat to the housekeeper. His tone carried a helpless fondness. “The two of you always gang up on me.”
“We do not!”
Chen Jiaojiao sat cross-legged on the carpet, holding Nian Gao up in front of his face, revealing only his blinking eyes as he silently gazed at Meng Jin.
Meng Jin couldn’t stay annoyed under that look. His eyes softened with indulgence as he smiled. “Go take a shower first.”
At the hospital, Chen Jiaojiao had spent almost the entire time bedridden, relying on Meng Jin to help him clean up. The thought made his ears grow warm. He quickly set Nian Gao down and scurried back to the bedroom, with Nian Gao wagging his tail happily as he followed.
When Meng Jin returned to the bedroom, he found the bathroom door tightly shut. Nian Gao was pawing at the glass door, anxiously pacing in circles.
Ignoring the little one’s protests, Meng Jin carried him outside and locked the door with a soft click. Finally, peace and quiet.
Meng Jin had originally planned to shower in the guest room, but his gaze fell on a small, light-blue piece of fabric carelessly left on the carpet. His eyebrows lifted slightly, and he changed his mind.
Inside the bathroom, Chen Jiaojiao scrubbed himself meticulously, but his thoughts drifted uncontrollably. When Meng Jin helped wipe his body, was he this thorough too? Wiping his arms? His legs?
He shook his head vigorously, patting his warm cheeks, ordering himself to stop overthinking!
So when he squeezed out the shower gel, he did it with a bit of frustrated force, as if trying to wash away certain traces from his body.
Before long, the bathroom grew unbearably stuffy. Unable to bear it, he quickly rinsed off, wrapped himself in a towel, and reached for his pajamas and underwear.
Huh? Huh?!
Where was his underwear?!
Chen Jiaojiao shook out the pajamas repeatedly, but they were empty. The only possibility was that it had fallen outside. A bolt of panic struck him. At this moment, he faced two choices: put on the old underwear he had just taken off, or… go out commando.
He had a bit of a cleanliness streak. He always felt that if he didn’t change into fresh clothes after showering, the shower would have been for nothing. So there was absolutely no way he would wear his previous clothes again.
Just as he hesitated, a sudden knock sounded at the door.
Knock, knock
Chen Jiaojiao jerked his head up, hearing Meng Jin’s deep voice. “Jiaojiao, did you forget to bring your underwear?”
“Open the door. I’ll hand it to you.”
Meng Jin leaned casually against the doorframe, a small, white bundle resting in his palm.
The original blue pair had been set aside. What he held in his hand now was a pair he had personally chosen.
The mere thought of Jiaojiao wearing the intimate garment he had personally chosen, even imbued with his own scent, sent a restless itch coursing through Meng Jin, pooling low in his abdomen.
Inside, Chen Jiaojiao’s cheeks flushed with an uncooperative heat once more. Gritting his teeth, he cracked the door open just a sliver, extending an arm to signal for Meng Jin to hand him the underwear.
Meng Jin’s gaze darkened as he took in the sight of that arm still glistening with droplets of water, his breathing growing heavier. Instead of simply placing the garment into Chen Jiaojiao’s hand, he deliberately smoothed it out, then brushed it lightly almost teasingly against Jiaojiao’s arm before draping it over his fingers.
Just as Chen Jiaojiao flusteredly tried to pull his hand back, a firm, unyielding grip seized his wrist. The door was pulled open in one swift motion, and he lost his balance entirely. With a startled gasp, he stumbled straight into a warm, solid chest.
The towel around him loosened slightly in the movement, and the bare skin of his body came into contact with the cool fabric of Meng Jin’s shirt, sending a faint shiver through him. Before he could react, Meng Jin’s arm had already wrapped around his waist, holding him firmly in place.