This bout of the flu was severe. Between the constant travel and the grueling filming schedule, Gu Xiaofeng had collapsed like a falling mountain. She drifted back into a heavy, feverish sleep, only waking up at nine o’clock in the evening.
Her WeChat was flooded with over 99 notifications. She scrolled through them mostly demands from Xu Yanzhe and her mother, Wang Baozhen. There was also a voice message from Fang Yueshi: “Xiaofeng, you’re back? I heard you’re sick, so I won’t drag you out for drinks. I’ll come see you tomorrow. Rest up, love you!”
As the voice message ended, the house fell into a heavy silence once more.
Ding-dong.Someone rang the doorbell.
Gu Xiaofeng fumbled for her phone and opened the smart home security system. On the screen, her neighbor, Tu Yiyi, stood straight as a poker, holding a basket in one hand and tidying her hair with the other.
Gu Xiaofeng didn’t have the energy for guests. She spoke into the intercom, “Miss Tu, is something the matter?
The “Little Fool” on the screen was visibly startled. She actually leaned down to examine the intercom, eventually spotting the camera and flashing a brilliant smile. “Cao-cao! I’ve come to visit. These are grapes grown by Zhuo Jin. Since you’re allowed to drink my chicken soup, you’re allowed to eat these grapes too.
Gu Xiaofeng sighed. She had met stingy people, but never anyone this petty. One bowl of soup, and the girl still brought it up. She replied flatly, “Thank you, but take them back. I’m going to sleep.
Cao-cao?
What is it?
Are you sick? Your voice sounds quite… delicate.
Gu Xiaofeng was originally splitting with a headache, but that one word gave her a two-second burst of adrenaline. “I’m fine!” she snapped, irritably cutting the connection.
A fool is a fool. She can’t even tell the difference between ‘weak’ and ‘delicate.’ And I am neither!
The “not weak” Best Actress soon discovered she didn’t even have the strength to sit up for a glass of water. She was drenched in a cold sweat. Now, she truly was “delicately” powerless.
Thump, thump, thump.
What was that noise?
Thump, thump, thump.
Someone was knocking on the window. Gu Xiaofeng’s heart tightened with nerves. Security at the Royal Palace was top-tier; no strangers should be able to get in.
“Cao-cao, are you okay? Can I come in?
Tu the Fool?!
Gu Xiaofeng looked toward the window. “Come in.
Then, she witnessed exactly how Tu Yiyi climbed through windows. Her body was unnervingly agile and flexible, moving like a white shadow. Despite the small opening, she slipped through as effortlessly as a cat.
Yiyi realized immediately that “Cao-cao” was indeed ill. She scurried to the bedside, blinking. “What happened? Where does it hurt?
Flu,” Gu Xiaofeng managed. “A bad one.
Oh, so she’s infected by the wind-chill.
Miss Tu, you should stay away from me so I don’t give it to you.
Silence followed. Gu Xiaofeng waited for a response, but none came. She looked up; the bedside was empty. A white blur flashed past the window.
She… she left? Just like that?!
Just because she heard “bad flu,” she ran away in a fright. She didn’t even offer a polite “sorry for disturbing you” before fleeing. Gu Xiaofeng felt a pang of bitterness. Since becoming famous, she had never been treated with such blatant avoidance.
She sighed and rolled over to sleep. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but in her haze, she caught a familiar scent—chicken soup!
Thump, thump, thump. The window again. “Cao-cao, I brought you chicken soup!
Gu Xiaofeng was surprised. “You went back for soup?”
Mhm. I had Zhuo Jin slaughter and stew one fresh. It took a bit of time.
The floor lamp cast a soft glow over the room. Gu Xiaofeng sat up, staring at the aromatic soup. “Are you really giving this to me? No strings attached?
“No strings. You’re sick; you’ll feel much better after drinking this.
Gu Xiaofeng reached for the bowl, but Yiyi pulled it back. “You’re very delicate right now. I’ll feed you.
Gu Xiaofeng:
Despite being labeled “delicate,” she felt a genuine stir of emotion. Watching Yiyi blow on a spoonful of soup to bring it to her lips, Gu Xiaofeng awkwardly turned her face away. The atmosphere was too intimate; she couldn’t handle it. No one had ever fed her like this—not even her own mother.
I’ll do it myself.
But you can’t even hold the bowl steady.” Yiyi blinked, not understanding why her kindness was being rejected.
I’ll drink it at the table.
Yiyi nodded happily. “That works too.” She stood up and placed the bowl on the desk.
Gu Xiaofeng threw off the covers. Having been in bed all day without food, her legs felt like jelly. She took one step and nearly collapsed.
I’ve got you.”
A soft hand caught her arm long, slender fingers as pale as jade. Gu Xiaofeng looked at that hand and suddenly understood the poetic descriptions in ancient scripts about “fingers like scallion shoots.
Yiyi helped her to the table, sat her down, and even found a coat to drape over her shoulders. Then she sat opposite her, propping her chin in her hands, watching with large, clear eyes.
Drink up. Drink it while it’s hot to drive out the chill.
Gu Xiaofeng took slow sips. “Who told you that?
My mother. When my fourth sister got sick, Mother would stew a pot of chicken soup. After she drank it and slept, she’d be all better.
Yiyi smiled so happily that her eyes turned into crescent moons. Her joy was infectious; anyone looking at her would find it hard not to smile back. That pure, beautiful radiance was almost blinding.
Gu Xiaofeng looked away, focusing on the soup. Suddenly, she asked, You smile so much… do you ever have anything to be unhappy about?