Xin Ruan had a fever.
He caught a chill two nights ago while out, then slept groggily through the entire day yesterday. Having barely eaten anything, the fever set in during the night.
His temperature climbed steadily, spiking to 39°C, burning his cheeks bright red.
But he couldn’t feel that he was burning up.
He didn’t even feel hot instead, his whole body felt cold.
Li Ran’s room trapped him like an ice cellar. He couldn’t break free, couldn’t escape and didn’t want to try. In the end, he was simply frozen into curling himself into a ball, burrowed deep in the blankets, trying to seek out a trace of warmth.
During this time, Xin Ruan couldn’t remember how many times he’d woken; he only clearly remembered the aching soreness in his back.
It was as if last night’s spectacular fireworks had exploded on his body scorching hot, searing out violent pain.
He wanted to cry but couldn’t open his mouth.
Butler Jiang discovered Xin Ruan’s condition in the morning. Not daring to delay, he immediately called the family doctor, then notified Li Ran at once.
Li Ran was in a meeting at the time, so Assistant Jiang answered the call.
Butler Jiang explained the situation and instructed Assistant Jiang to tell Li Ran once the meeting ended.
Assistant Jiang gave a careless “mm,” then, eyes glinting, suggested to his father, “You should tell Mrs. Li as well.”
The Mrs. Li Assistant Jiang mentioned was Li Ran’s mother.
Hearing this, Butler Jiang hesitated.
Assistant Jiang continued persuading him, unhurried.
“Madam cares most about Mr. Xin Ruan. He’s this seriously ill, if we don’t tell her and she finds out on her own later, she’ll surely blame us.”
Xin Ruan’s sensations were strange.
He felt as if he were drifting in the sea, rising and falling, unable to find a foothold. At times it felt like being roasted in a furnace, raging flames burning his chest with pain. He was trapped inside the stove, jumping around like a monkey, yet unable to find any way to quench the fire.
At the same time, there were voices arguing in his ear.
The voice was familiar deep, tinged with coldness and impatience.
“Get up. Stop pretending.”
Was he talking about him?
Pretending what? Being sick?
He wasn’t pretending. He really seemed to be sick…
A series of questions exploded in his mind. Xin Ruan grew anxious, struggling desperately to ask the speaker what he meant, but he couldn’t open his eyes or his mouth.
It was as if someone had cast a spell on him, leaving him to lie numbly in bed, listening to the groundless slander from the person beside him.
After who knows how long, Xin Ruan finally managed to force his heavy eyelids open.
Li Ran was standing by the bed, his back to him.
He wore a dark suit, his tie still undone, his hair somewhat disheveled, he had clearly rushed back.
He had rushed back.
Because of his fever.
At this thought, Xin Ruan’s earlier repression, gloom, and displeasure dissipated somewhat, and his heart grew lighter.
Hearing the rustling behind him, Li Ran turned around.
He looked down, his dark eyes surveying Xin Ruan on the bed heavily.
The gray bedding and dark blue loungewear made his skin look even paler. Because of the illness, his face had lost some of its color, and a mist had gathered in his eyes, laying bare the boy’s sickly, fragile beauty.
At this moment, Li Ran should have felt tender concern.
But in truth, there was only displeasure and irritation in his heart.
He had been in meetings half the night, and the moment the morning meeting ended, he received his mother’s call.
The instant the call connected, she bombarded him with accusations: “How are you taking care of Xin Ruan? Don’t you know he’s in poor health?”
Poor health?