Arriving at the entrance of Zhizhixuan, Qingxing knocked on the door for quite a while but received no response.
Shen Ci’an lived here alone. Originally, his father had assigned a young servant to look after his daily needs, but he had politely declined.
Jiang Zhi pushed the door open and saw that the courtyard of Zhizhixuan was completely empty. When she stepped into the inner chamber, the light was dim, filled with the fragrance of ink and books.
A tall, slender man lay on the couch with his eyes half-closed. His originally handsome features were now flushed with an unhealthy feverish red, and his dark sideburns clung to his forehead, trembling slightly with his faint breaths. It was Shen Ci’an, lying ill on the couch.
“Miss, it seems the young master has a very high fever,” Qingxing said.
Jiang Zhi stepped forward and felt his forehead with the back of her hand—indeed, it was scorching to the touch.
Jiang Zhi had Qingxing fetch a damp cloth and wiped his forehead and the hands exposed outside the covers.
Shen Ci’an’s hands were also extremely beautiful to look at—long, slender fingers with distinct knuckles, thin calluses gathered on his palms, and wrists as lean and elegant as ink bamboo. One could easily imagine the strength and vigor with which he wielded a brush when writing.
But Jiang Zhi wiped for a long time, and his temperature showed no sign of coming down.
If the fever continued like this, something would surely go wrong.
Jiang Zhi pressed her lips together, had Qingxing fetch a fresh basin of water, and then sent her to brew a decoction for treating colds.
Once Qingxing went out and closed the door, Jiang Zhi could no longer afford to worry about propriety. She propped Shen Ci’an up slightly, then deftly undid the front of his robe.
Although Shen Ci’an appeared lean, he was by no means frail. His shoulder line was as sharp as if cut by a blade, wrapped in a smooth, taut layer of lean muscle. The contours of his waist and abdomen rose and fell like an unsheathed soft sword, carrying a natural air of elegance and ease.
Jiang Zhi couldn’t help but think that if she were to marry him in the future, watching him read and write beneath the corridor, with his scholarly bearing—refined, upright, and handsome enough to feast one’s eyes upon—would hardly be a misfortune.
A smile spread across her face as she soaked the cloth and began wiping his body.
His body was equally scorching, as if about to catch fire. Soon even the cloth was warmed through, and she had to change the water again and again.
After repeating this several times, Shen Ci’an’s burning body finally cooled down, and the man, who had been delirious with fever, slowly opened his eyes.
“This is…” Shen Ci’an was still groggy. He raised a hand to rub his throbbing forehead, then only belatedly realized what was happening and looked up at Jiang Zhi in shock.
“First Young Miss?” He recognized the person before him and thought he must truly be delirious from the fever.
But he quickly noticed that he was lying half-propped on the couch with his clothes in disarray, and Jiang Zhi’s fair hand holding the cloth was still pressed against his chest.
This—this—what utter impropriety?!
A roar sounded in Shen Ci’an’s mind. In a panic, he scrambled to retreat.
But he was already weak from illness, and as he pulled back, he instead caused Jiang Zhi to lose her hold on him. The two of them tumbled onto the couch together.
“Ah,” Jiang Zhi’s forehead bumped against his chest, and she let out a pained cry. “Cousin, you…”
Shen Ci’an’s face, already flushed from fever, was now even redder than blood. He reached out to push her away, but then thought that physical contact between a man and a woman was improper and feared he might offend her. His hands hovered uselessly in the air, not knowing where to place them.
He could only take a shallow breath and say weakly, “Forgive me… would First Young Miss kindly… get up first?”
Jiang Zhi looked at his flustered, uneasy expression and felt that this cousin of hers was reacting far too strongly.
So she decided to tease him, deliberately placing her hand on his waist and abdomen, feeling the muscles instantly tense beneath her palm. Jiang Zhi’s lips curved slightly upward, as if she intended to use the leverage to sit up, but her hand slipped and she fell back onto him.
“Careful!” Shen Ci’an didn’t dare move a muscle, the faint fragrance of the young woman filling his nostrils.
He had buried himself in books for over a decade, never once having been close to a woman’s form. Now, to have been embraced by such soft warmth twice in a row, his entire body stiffened like stone, his mind going completely blank. His already parched throat grew even drier, his Adam’s apple bobbing with difficulty.
“My apologies, Cousin. My hand gave out from exhaustion while wiping you down earlier—I didn’t mean to. Are you alright?”
She looked up at him, her watery eyes holding undisguised concern.
Shen Ci’an’s eyelashes trembled slightly. “Get up first, then we’ll talk.”
“Oh, right, right.” Jiang Zhi seemed to just now realize the situation, scrambling to her feet.
Shen Ci’an finally let out a breath of relief, quickly turning around to properly arrange his loosely hanging clothes.
“Cousin, since your fever wouldn’t go down earlier, I tried using the method of wiping your body to cool you off. I didn’t expect it to actually work.” Jiang Zhi spoke with relief, as if she hadn’t noticed his discomfort.
“Thank goodness you woke up. I really didn’t know what else to do.”
Her eyes sparkled, as if she were delighted to have been able to help him.
Shen Ci’an, however, felt the veins on his forehead throbbing.
Men and women should maintain proper distance—her behavior was truly improper. If outsiders were to learn of this, he, being a man, might be fine, but where would her reputation be? If she were to be harmed because of this, wouldn’t he become the guilty party?
So, disregarding his weakened body, he put on a stern face and admonished her, “Young Miss, how could you…”
Before he could finish, a cool hand pressed against his forehead. “Good, good. The fever’s gone down. Should be no serious problem now.”
The touch on his forehead came and went in an instant, leaving no time for him to dodge. By the time he reacted, Jiang Zhi had already brought a bowl of water to him.
“Cousin must be thirsty. Drink some warm water to work up a sweat—it’ll help you recover from the chill faster.”
Her expression was composed, her eyes filled with concern.
After a brief moment of stunned silence, Shen Ci’an’s brows furrowed deeper and deeper. He didn’t take the bowl. “I can manage on my own. Please allow me to first straighten my clothes, Young Miss.”
“Very well, I’ll wait for you outside.” Knowing his conservative nature and that she shouldn’t push too hard, Jiang Zhi readily placed the bowl by his hand, picked up the cloth and basin, and left.
Shen Ci’an caught sight of the cloth in her hand, and the heat that had subsided surged back up again.
Though he had been burning with fever earlier, he’d still had some awareness.
The scalding heat had rampaged through his body, his eyelids heavy as if weighted with lead, even his breathing growing labored and sluggish.
Between waking and dreaming, he’d felt a coolness traveling across his body, and wherever it passed, the unbearable burning pain had eased and dissipated, like a spring breeze brushing his face, bringing peace to his mind.
At the time, he’d thought it was a hallucination brought on by the high fever, never expecting it to have been real.
He let out a heavy sigh, feeling a deep headache coming on.
The Young Miss had acted out of necessity in an emergency, with good intentions.
But he couldn’t simply pretend nothing had happened.
He straightened his clothes and appearance, then opened the door and went out.
Jiang Zhi was leisurely sipping tea under the eaves. Seeing him emerge, an involuntary smile spread across her face. “Cousin.”
Shen Ci’an gave a light cough, averting his gaze. “There should be propriety between men and women; one must not approach without due respect. You are a young lady of noble birth, so please refrain from such actions in the future.”
“Does Cousin think I am frivolous in conduct and lacking in propriety?” Jiang Zhi’s smile faded, a cold frost settling over her face.