When the door opened, it brought in a gust of damp, chilly rain.
Xu Anran stood at the entrance, a black folding umbrella clutched in his hand, water still dripping from its surface.
The bottoms of his trousers were soaked, and his hair was dotted with rain.
He didn’t look like he’d just come back from the delivery station.
He looked like he’d been searching for someone in the rain.
Shen Yuan glanced up at him, then quickly looked away.
The room fell quiet.
The sound of rain filtered through the window, making the space feel even smaller.
Xu Anran saw her too.
Her face was pale, her hair half-damp, her lips drained of color.
The clothes she’d just changed into hung loosely on her frame, as if the rain had wrung every bit of strength from her body.
Xu Anran’s grip on the umbrella handle tightened.
“You got caught in the rain?”
Shen Yuan didn’t want to dwell on the topic.
“Yeah.”
Xu Anran set the umbrella down by the entrance.
The black folding umbrella was already closed, its frame slightly worn, edges still dripping.
Shen Yuan glanced at it, then lowered her head again, nudging the medicine box toward the edge of the table.
Xu Anran didn’t miss her small movement.
He frowned.
“You didn’t bring another umbrella?”
“No.”
“Then why did you still deliver?”
Shen Yuan looked up at him.
She wanted to say, Didn’t you just tell me not to?
She also wanted to say, When I brought it over, you had plenty to say.
But saying those things would sound like she was seeking sympathy.
She didn’t want that.
So she simply said, “It was on the way.”
Xu Anran felt a tightness in his chest at those two words.
From the coffee shop to the delivery station, then from the delivery station back home.
On the way to where?
On the way to getting treated like a doormat?
He instinctively wanted to retort, but the words hardened into a cold, clipped sentence: “Shen Yuan, you didn’t have to.”
Shen Yuan pressed a hand to her stomach, her voice soft.
“Yeah. I won’t do it again.”
Xu Anran froze.
She’d answered too quickly.
As if she’d already prepared an escape route.
He said it wasn’t necessary.
So she stepped back.
Cleanly.
Without a trace of lingering.
This was what he wanted.
For the past six months, he’d wished countless times that Shen Yuan would stop clinging to him, stop using that debt of gratitude to weigh him down, stop taking his kindness for granted.
But now, hearing her say “I won’t do it again,” something pricked at his chest.
Shen Yuan didn’t look at him again. She lowered her head and opened the medicine.
Xu Anran’s gaze fell on her hands.
“Stomach hurts?”
“A little.”
She said it calmly.
As if she were commenting on the rain being a bit heavy.
Xu Anran frowned. “Take the medicine.”
Shen Yuan pressed out a pill.
Just then, she heard Xu Anran let out an extremely faint grunt.
The sound was so low that if the room hadn’t been so quiet, she wouldn’t have caught it.
Shen Yuan looked up.
Xu Anran had his back to her, bending down to change his shoes, one hand pressed against his upper abdomen.
He moved quickly, as if he didn’t want her to notice.
But Shen Yuan saw it anyway.
His stomach hurt too.
Xu Anran worked at the shop during the day and ran deliveries at night, never eating on time.
In the past, when the original body had stomach pain, he’d remember to buy her medicine, remind her to avoid spicy food, and even cook her porridge.
But what about himself?
He probably just endured the pain.
Shen Yuan looked down at the medicine in her hand.
The last pill.
Both of them were hurting.
The situation was almost absurd.
A transmigrated novel heroine and the original novel male lead, so broke they had to split a single stomach pill.
Shen Yuan was silent for a few seconds, then poured hot water anyway.
She slid the medicine toward Xu Anran.
“You take it.”
Xu Anran looked at her.
“Doesn’t your stomach hurt?”
“I’m not that bad.”
Xu Anran’s gaze darkened.
“Shen Yuan.”
“Really.”
Shen Yuan pushed the cup of water over as well.
“I was just a little uncomfortable earlier. You’re worse than me.”
Xu Anran didn’t move.
He knew her old self too well.
Back then, if she had even the slightest discomfort, she’d make a fuss until the whole world knew about it.
A stomachache meant he had to buy her porridge, a headache meant he had to massage her temples, sore legs meant he had to pour her water.
She would never have given him her medicine.
And she would never have said so calmly, “I’m not that bad.”
Xu Anran stared at her for a long time.
But Shen Yuan had already pushed herself up from the table.
“I’ll cook some porridge.”
She could skip a dose of medicine.
But she couldn’t skip a meal.
She knew now, clearer than ever, that relying on anyone was worse than relying on herself.
Xu Anran didn’t owe her anything.
And she didn’t want to owe him anything either.
But she had only taken two steps when another sharp pain tore through her stomach.
Her vision went black in an instant.
Shen Yuan grabbed the wall for support and took a deep breath.
She couldn’t collapse.
Collapsing would be too embarrassing.
Xu Anran noticed something was wrong and immediately stepped forward.
“What’s wrong?”
Shen Yuan shook her head.
“Nothing.”
Xu Anran grabbed her wrist directly.
Her wrist was frighteningly cold.
Xu Anran’s expression changed.
“Your face is this pale, and you call that nothing?”
Shen Yuan was momentarily stunned.
“Take your medicine first.”
Xu Anran looked down at the medicine box on the table.
The box was empty.
Only the dose she had pushed toward him remained.
He understood in an instant.
She had given him the last stomach medicine.
And she was in this much pain herself.
Still saying she wasn’t that bad.
Something heavy slammed into Xu Anran’s chest.
His voice dropped, rough and low.
“Shen Yuan, are you out of your mind?”
Shen Yuan was too pained to argue, so she only murmured, “Maybe.”
She still had the energy to crack a joke.
Xu Anran’s temple throbbed with irritation.
He shoved the medicine back into her hand.
“You take it.”
Shen Yuan shook her head.
“You’re in pain too.”
“I don’t need you to worry about me.”
“I don’t need you to worry about me either.”
They stared at each other.
The air went rigid.
Those words were too familiar.
Xu Anran had wanted to say them to her countless times before, but had swallowed them back because of that so-called life-saving favor.
Now that they came from her mouth, there wasn’t a trace of sulking.
Only a clear, sober boundary.
Xu Anran suddenly didn’t know what to say.
He looked at her pale face, at her hand clutching the hem of her clothes, and the irritation in his chest suddenly turned into a dull ache he couldn’t name.
He remembered searching for her in the rain just now.
The intersection, the bus stop, the convenience store entrance.
He’d held the umbrella she had given him and searched round after round.
But he hadn’t seen her.
In that moment, there had been a flash of panic in his heart.
But now she was right in front of him.
And she looked worse than she had in the rain.
Xu Anran suppressed his emotions.
In the end, he was the one who gave in first.
“I’ll go buy medicine.”
Shen Yuan wanted to say there was no need.
But Xu Anran had already turned to grab his keys.
The door closed.
The rental apartment was left with only Shen Yuan.
The stomach pain grew worse.
She curled up on the sofa, hugging a pillow, cold sweat beading on her forehead.
She didn’t want Xu Anran to take care of her.
She didn’t want him to think she was using this to win sympathy again.
But pain was a stubborn thing.
It didn’t care if you were the female lead, didn’t care if you had money, didn’t care if you had transmigrated into a book.
When it hurt, it hurt so badly you questioned your existence.
Shen Yuan bit the back of her hand, trying not to make a sound.
Ten minutes later, the lock clicked again.
Xu Anran came back carrying medicine and a bag of hot porridge.
He had expected to see Shen Yuan sitting at the table, or complaining like she used to that he was too slow.
But the apartment was quiet.
Quiet in a way that felt wrong.
He walked into the living room.
Shen Yuan was curled up on the sofa, her face buried in a pillow, her whole body trembling with pain.
A row of teeth marks was imprinted on the back of her hand.
Xu Anran’s footsteps came to an abrupt halt.
In that moment, his chest felt as if it were being squeezed hard.
He suddenly realized.
She wasn’t acting.
She wasn’t playing for sympathy.
She was genuinely in pain.
Pain so severe she didn’t want to trouble him.
Pain so severe she would rather bite herself than call out to him.