Yao Zhen lay huddled under the covers, drifting in and out of a heavy, feverish sleep. In his half-awake state, he felt a palm press against his forehead. His eyelashes trembled, and a low moan escaped his lips.
“Wake up and eat something,” Liang Jiming’s voice prompted.
Get your dog paws off me, Yao Zhen screamed wordlessly in his heart.
Last night, he had fallen into the pool and choked on water. Whether from the shock or the cold, he had started running a high fever in the middle of the night. A family doctor had visited and diagnosed him with mild aspiration pneumonia, prescribed some medicine, and told him to get plenty of rest.
Yao Zhen climbed up sluggishly, refusing to acknowledge Liang Jiming. Liang Jiming didn’t say much either; he went out to the living room to ask the doctor about the situation.
Yao Zhen pursed his lips, went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and haphazardly wash his face, then sat back on the bed just as Xiao Wei brought in food. It was plain, watery porridge. He had no appetite to begin with, and looking at it made him want to eat even less. He managed two bites before pushing the bowl away.
“I don’t want it.”
Xiao Wei hesitatingly told him that while he was unconscious this morning, Zhao Zihua and the others had stopped by. Seeing he wasn’t awake, they didn’t come in, but they left word that they were heading back home that afternoon.
Yao Zhen’s face darkened.
As expected, every single one of them is disloyal. Throwing me away and running off like that—what use are you all?
He picked up his phone and checked; the heartless crowd was still laughing and spamming the group chat, mocking him for being “frail and unable to care for himself.” He replied with a middle-finger emoji and ignored them, swiping away from WeChat and casually opening his phone camera. In the lens, he looked like a total wreck, his face as white as a ghost. Truly a stroke of terrible luck.
When Liang Jiming returned, Yao Zhen had laid back down, staring blankly at the ceiling. Noticing the intruder, he immediately turned his back.
Liang Jiming stepped forward, standing over him by the bed. “Do you still feel unwell anywhere?”
Yao Zhen remained silent.
After a moment of stillness, Liang Jiming handed over his watch. “It fell in the water. It’s broken.”
Yao Zhen: “…”
Can I get any luckier?
“About last night… I’m sorry.” Placing the watch on the nightstand, Liang Jiming hesitated before speaking those two words. Since Yao Zhen fell in last night, he felt he had to take some responsibility.
Seeing no reaction from Yao Zhen, his voice paused slightly before asking, “Are you very upset?”
Yao Zhen didn’t even have the strength to glare at him. Isn’t that obvious? Who would be happy after nearly drowning for no reason?
His eyelashes drooped, trembling unconsciously; against his pale complexion, he appeared exceptionally fragile. He continued to ignore Liang Jiming.
This appearance looked very much like a heart turning cold. Liang Jiming gazed down at him for a long time. The events of the previous night surfaced, and he recalled Yao Zhen’s red-rimmed eyes accusing him of faking amnesia just to leave. The look in Liang Jiming’s eyes gradually grew complex.
What if Yao Zhen isn’t just playing around?
What if his sadness was real?
What if he was intentionally acting out as a hedonistic brat just to spite him?
What if his own motives were impure, while Yao Zhen had truly abandoned a life of luxury and was forced to come here for him?
What if a sincere heart was hidden behind that cynical playboy facade, yet he had done nothing but doubt, demean, and look down on him?
Once these messy thoughts cropped up, Liang Jiming suddenly became uncertain. Even if he was convinced he was merely “serving a benefactor,” he couldn’t grasp Yao Zhen’s true intentions.
And that made him feel exceptionally guilty.
“Sleep a little longer,” Liang Jiming said, his voice softening. “I’ll be right outside. Call me the moment you feel uncomfortable anywhere.” He leaned over and tucked the corners of the quilt in for him.
Yao Zhen closed his eyes, refusing to communicate.
…There’s no way I want to look at that face. The moment I do, I’m reminded that at twenty-three years old, my first kiss was snatched away by the person I hate most—under the guise of artificial respiration. If that pack of idiots found out, they’d laugh their heads off.
……..
In the living room, Xiao Wei was confirming the medication instructions with the doctor. Once the doctor was sent off, Liang Jiming stopped the assistant and asked directly, “When exactly did the Young Master and I arrive here?”
Xiao Wei: “…”
Can I tell the truth? Obviously not! He thought for a second and steeled himself. “About two and a half months ago.”
“And the Young Master was exiled here by his father?” Liang Jiming pushed.
Xiao Wei gave a non-committal “mm-hmm” and answered, “That’s right. President Yao was dissatisfied with the Young Master’s behavior, and the Young Master refused to back down or apologize. In a fit of rage, President Yao dumped him here.” He kept it vague, letting Liang Jiming fill in the blanks.
Liang Jiming frowned slightly. “Does his family know I followed him here?”
Xiao Wei: “…No.”
They definitely didn’t. If they knew Yao Zhen was here running a long con on a prestigious lawyer like Liang Jiming, the Young Master’s father would probably break his legs.
Liang Jiming fell silent. He didn’t ask further.
He had seduced this Young Master with an ulterior motive. Once the Young Master was disowned by his family and Liang Jiming realized he couldn’t get what he wanted, he had planned to ditch him. It was logical, and it felt exactly like something he would do. Perhaps the heavens couldn’t stand his behavior, which is why he ran into a typhoon and ended up like this.
………
Yao Zhen’s low-grade fever hadn’t broken. His head was still spinning, and he tossed and turned until he fell back into a fitful sleep.
It wasn’t a peaceful rest. He fell into a chaotic, vivid dream where icy pool water swallowed him, dragging him down into a suffocating darkness. In the dream, Liang Jiming stood on the shore, watching coldly. When Yao Zhen opened his mouth to beg for help, he met a gaze so indifferent it seemed to say, “You deserve this, you liar,” and he sank into despair.
Then the scene shifted. Liang Jiming was leaning over him, breathing warm air into his lungs. Those usually cold, calm eyes were suddenly filled with deep affection, as if he were truly kissing him.
Yao Zhen snapped his eyes open.
Liang Jiming, who was sitting by the bed, turned and switched on the bedside lamp. “You’re awake? You’re sweating a lot. Was it a nightmare?”
Yao Zhen’s eyes moved slowly, eventually landing on Liang Jiming’s face and staying there. Every scenario in that dream—both versions—was a nightmare. It was basically a horror movie.
The corners of his eyes were rimmed with a physiological red. He stared blankly at Liang Jiming, unable to snap out of it for a long time. Liang Jiming misinterpreted this expression. He took it as the most genuine revelation of Yao Zhen’s emotions while ill—sadness, grievance, and resentment. For a moment, he was at a loss for words.
He had no idea how his pre-amnesia self could have treated this young master with such a clear conscience; now, he only found the situation incredibly thorny.
“…I’m sorry.” After much hesitation, he forced those words out.
Only then did Yao Zhen show a slight reaction, his eyelids flickering. The man said “apologies” before, but now he’s actually saying “I’m sorry”? Is he possessed?
Liang Jiming explained, “Didn’t you ask me to apologize to you before? I’m sorry for forgetting you.”
“…”
His words were too sincere, as was the look in his eyes. Yao Zhen felt uneasy under his gaze, his eyes darting away.
Liang Jiming continued, “Not only did I forget you, but I also repeatedly questioned our relationship and doubted you. That was my fault, and I apologize. I can’t make any promises because I don’t know when I’ll remember, but I’ll do my best. I might not be a ‘qualified’ lover yet, but we can try. If there’s anything I’m not doing well, I hope you will be patient and guide me.”
This was the resolution he had reached after sitting alone in the living room for a long time. Since Yao Zhen was the one who saved him, since this was the first person he saw upon waking, and since his blank memory held nothing else, he chose to accept the status quo. Even if it was an act, he would do his best to play his part well.
Yao Zhen: “…………”
His head was still spinning, and Liang Jiming’s speech had completely short-circuited his brain. He sat there with his mouth slightly open, genuinely at a loss for words.
Watching him, Liang Jiming found the young master’s dazed expression quite cute—far more likeable than when he was baring his claws. On a sudden impulse, he leaned in, lowering his head until his forehead was pressed against Yao Zhen’s.
Yao Zhen’s eyes instantly went wide. As Liang Jiming approached, he almost thought the scene from his nightmare was coming true—that this guy was actually going to kiss him. No need for that…
With their foreheads touching, Liang Jiming’s gaze lingered. After just a few seconds, he pulled back and said softly, “The fever seems to have broken.”
Yao Zhen didn’t even have the energy to curse. His eyelashes fluttered rapidly, and his face flushed a deep crimson. Liang Jiming, however, automatically interpreted this reaction in a completely different light. So the Young Master can actually be shy? It was a stark contrast to the decadent, reckless person grinding against someone on the dance floor the night before.
Perhaps this was Yao Zhen’s true nature? To Liang Jiming, this reaction provided the answer. It was one last test, and the conclusion was set.
He really likes me, Liang Jiming thought. It’s not a game.