Night fell, with dusk enveloping the outdoors and darkness dominating the scene.
Not a single lamp was lit in Shu Qianzhi’s room, leaving it in complete darkness. Only the moonlight filtering in from outside kept the black from being absolute.
Shu Qianzhi lay on the bed, her entire body weak and limp.
She had suddenly developed a fever—she didn’t know how high her temperature was, but she felt her body burning alarmingly.
Struggling, she raised her hand and found the phone Wan Feng had delivered that afternoon. The screen’s glow was particularly glaring in the dark. Fighting discomfort, she squinted and opened the contacts list.
There were only two numbers saved: one for Wan Feng and the other for the butler.
Ji Zechen’s number wasn’t there. She randomly selected one of the contacts and dialed for help.
At that moment, Wan Feng was attending a business meeting with Ji Zechen. The room was filled with elites from various fields, a gathering of exceptional talents radiating powerful auras.
Standing beside Ji Zechen, Wan Feng had to note details of conversations while staying alert to the room’s dynamics, not daring to slack off in the slightest.
His phone, tucked in a hidden pocket, suddenly vibrated. With one hand still holding a pen, he pulled out the device, glanced discreetly at the caller ID, and without a second thought, stepped out to answer.
Soon, he returned to Ji Zechen’s side, a faint trace of concern on his face. He hesitated briefly, wondering if he should inform Master Ji.
Having been by Ji Zechen’s side since before he came of age, Wan Feng knew his temperament well: he never tolerated interruptions during negotiations, especially not over trivial matters.
Yet, recalling Ji Zechen’s unusual behavior throughout the day, Wan Feng sensed the girl’s situation might hold more significance for him than it seemed.
Without overthinking it, he seized a moment when Ji Zechen had a brief respite and quietly relayed the message.
As expected, Ji Zechen showed no interest in Shu Qianzhi’s condition. He merely shot Wan Feng a cold glance, clearly displeased by the interruption.
His expression seemed to say, “Why are you telling me this? Can’t you handle such a minor issue yourself?”
Wan Feng apologized and didn’t dare say more. Still, concerned about the girl, he felt uneasy and stepped out again to call back.
The call went unanswered, ringing for a while before disconnecting. Hearing the relentless dial tone, he grew more anxious. He then dialed Aunt Li at the Ji residence, instructing her to check on the girl.
Not long after, he received another call. Aunt Li reported, “The girl has a high fever of 39 degrees Celsius. She’s delirious. I tried to take her to the hospital, but she refuses to go, muttering something about ‘brother’ over and over.”
Wan Feng’s heart skipped a beat.
Stubborn as ever—he couldn’t leave his post, and Master Ji was even less likely to look after her. But if this continued, he feared she might suffer serious harm from the fever.
Left with no choice, he dispatched a private doctor and sternly instructed Aunt Li to take good care of her.
Coincidentally, the meeting had just ended. As a stream of people exited the conference room, Wan Feng quickly ended the call and rejoined Ji Zechen’s entourage.
Seizing an opportunity, he updated him again, “Master Ji, the girl’s fever has reached 39 degrees. If this continues, it could be dangerous.”
Yet Ji Zechen didn’t even lift his eyes. “Then take her to the hospital. What’s the use of telling me?”
“She refuses to go and keeps insisting on seeing you,” Wan Feng spoke up, internally calculating the likelihood of Master Ji softening this time.
Hearing this, Ji Zechen’s expression instantly darkened again, his brow faintly etched with displeasure.
She always uses these same tricks—does she really think he’ll keep indulging her forever?
“Then let her keep burning up,” Ji Zechen’s voice grew colder. After uttering those words, he said nothing more and turned to converse with another partner beside him.
Wan Feng sighed inwardly.
That girl—even burning up like this, she still remembers her “brother.” Master Ji has already been plenty good to her. Couldn’t she just yield a little? Instead, she repeatedly pushes her luck, testing Master Ji’s limits.
Does she really think she’s Master Ji’s sister?
At this point, there was nothing more he could do. She would have to fend for herself.
It wasn’t until late at night that Ji Zechen finally concluded his meetings. His current location happened to be closer to the villa, so he headed directly there.
The spacious villa was unusually quiet, just as he preferred—pitch dark, devoid of expectations, with no one waiting for him.
He loosened his tie and went straight upstairs, but Wan Feng remained concerned about the feverish girl, worried about her condition.
Ultimately, Wan Feng couldn’t resist and risked reprimand by speaking up again. “Master Ji… the girl still has a high fever.”
Ji Zechen’s steps noticeably paused. “She didn’t go to the hospital?”
“No,” Wan Feng replied. “She refused. Aunt Li could only give her some fever reducers and put her to bed.”
Ji Zechen gave a noncommittal “Hmm” and made no further plans. His briefly halted steps resumed, this time even more resolute than before.
“Master Ji doesn’t plan to check on the girl?” Wan Feng once again played the good Samaritan, posing the question outright.
“What does that have to do with me?” Ji Zechen responded without hesitation.
“Uh…” Wan Feng fell silent.
While feeling sorry for the girl, he also thought to himself that Master Ji had finally come to his senses, no longer acting as inexplicably as he had during the day.
But the next moment—
A frustrated grunt cut distinctly through the quiet night. Ji Zechen turned around and retraced his steps, heading straight for Shu Qianzhi’s bedroom.
His footsteps were hurried, faster than at any moment before.
Wan Feng: …
As expected, Master Ji remained as unpredictable as ever.
…
Inside the bedroom…
Shu Qianzhi had buried herself completely under the covers. Despite beads of sweat forming on her forehead, she still felt cold, shivering uncontrollably.
It wasn’t just the cold—she was in pain too, as if every part of her body ached, her bones feeling shattered beyond endurance.
The bedroom door slowly pushed open, and light from the hall rushed in, a beam falling directly on the visibly distressed figure on the bed.
But the person on the bed seemed unaware, trapped in a liminal state between wakefulness and sleep, unable to move, struggling even to take deep breaths without success.
Ji Zechen approached her step by step, his expression grave.
Reaching the bedside, he took Shu Qianzhi’s hand—it was burning hot, alarmingly so.
His handsome brow furrowed tighter. He raised his hand and gently patted her cheek twice. “Hey, are you okay?”
Shu Qianzhi faintly sensed someone patting her, which annoyed her greatly. She wanted to resist, but clearly lacked the strength to make any movement. She could only struggle to lift her leaden eyelids, her gaze settling on the person before her.
Time seemed to have reversed to her previous life, to the scenes she had witnessed as a soul after her death. So, had she returned to that moment again?
Suddenly, her heart ached sharply, and tears streamed down uncontrollably. Though nothing seemed within her control, she mustered every ounce of strength to cry out a name: “Ji Zechen…”
Her mind could no longer sustain any coherent thought. Her fingers twitched, barely managing to clutch the corner of the person’s clothing, refusing to let go.
In the darkness, shadows veiled Ji Zechen’s face, obscuring his emotions, yet his gaze remained fixed on the hand gripping him.
The surroundings fell into silence, with only that cry of “Ji Zechen” piercing through distinctly.
It was as if this moment aligned perfectly with some predestined instant in the unseen currents of fate.
…
When Shu Qianzhi woke again, her body showed no trace of abnormality whatsoever. She felt vibrant and full of energy, completely devoid of any signs of having just endured a high fever.
She stretched her limbs, seemingly accustomed to these sudden bouts of physical discomfort and reactions that defied normal explanation.
Since she couldn’t make sense of it, she decided not to dwell on it.
Sitting up in bed, she scanned the room before her eyes finally settled on her palm.
Though she couldn’t clearly recall what had happened the previous night, the IV drip in her hand and the inexplicable piece of fabric clutched in her palm suggested things weren’t as simple as they seemed.
Additionally, a note was stuck on the bedside table, bearing a line of elegantly written characters:
“Call me when you wake up.”
Below it was a string of phone numbers.
Shu Qianzhi’s first thought was that it must be either Wan Feng or someone else—certainly not that cold-blooded creature Ji Zechen.
Holding no expectations, she dialed the number. The call connected almost immediately, but there was no sound from the other end. Both sides remained silent.
“Hello?” Shu Qianzhi ventured cautiously, seamlessly switching to a vulnerable and pitiful tone in an instant.
“Mn.” A flat, unemotional sound came from the other end—a single syllable that was enough to identify the person.
So, even if it was meaningless small talk, at this moment, Shu Qianzhi’s inner reaction was: !!