It felt quite novel.
She had originally thought that finding a partner was just like raising Little Beauty 2.0. Now, that idea had been completely overturned.
This wasn’t Little Beauty at all—this was clearly a little ancestor.
Afraid she would catch a chill again, Tan Qingya withdrew her hand. She rose and gently scooped Zhou Jianghao up, her movements so light that they didn’t wake her.
After settling her on the bed, Tan Qingya took her temperature again. Fortunately, it had dropped quite a bit. Tan Qingya let out a small sigh of relief.
She sat down at Zhou Jianghao’s side and rubbed her own hands together until they were warm, then resumed gently massaging her stomach.
Zhou Jianghao was so slim, but her belly was rounded now, slightly distended in the most adorable way. Unfortunately, that cute little belly had tormented her badly. At the thought, Tan Qingya paused and gave it a light poke.
The flesh there was delightfully elastic, dipping in before slowly springing back.
Her gaze deepened, but she still had enough sense to remember that the girl before her was a pitiful little patient right now. Tan Qingya couldn’t help sighing.
Either injured or sick—wasn’t she fragile as porcelain?
Grumbling to herself inwardly, she kept her hands moving, hoping only that the girl would feel a bit better.
…
Tan Qingya massaged her through most of the night, and it worked wonders. Early the next morning, Zhou Jianghao got up and vomited twice. Her condition had finally improved a little.
When Auntie Chen arrived, she took one look at their wan faces and jumped in alarm. “What on earth did you two get up to last night? You both look awful!”
At those words, Zhou Jianghao froze. She glanced instinctively at Tan Qingya and realized her complexion was even worse than her own.
“It’s nothing,” Tan Qingya said calmly.
Her voice was stuffy, laced with a nasal tone.
Her head throbbed fiercely. Furrowing her brow, she went on, “Make Zhou Jianghao some light, easy-to-digest porridge.”
“Miss Zhou’s sick again?” Auntie Chen nodded knowingly, gazing at Zhou Jianghao with pity. “You need to eat more and build up your strength.”
Zhou Jianghao’s ear tips flushed pink at that last bit. How could she dare eat any more?
She couldn’t resist scooting closer to Tan Qingya and turning to peer at her. “Did you stay up all night?”
She hadn’t been entirely insensate. She’d felt that soothing warmth on her stomach the whole time. Now, glancing at the dark circles under Tan Qingya’s eyes, she pursed her lips.
She seemed to be nothing but trouble for Tan Qingya.
“No,” Tan Qingya said, shaking her head. “I slept later on.”
When had she ever pulled an all-nighter tending to someone? She’d been so exhausted that she’d dozed off sitting up, only to be jolted awake by pain before dawn.
Her head felt like it had a hammer trapped inside, pounding away. Her neck ached from the awkward position, and of course, the hand that had rubbed that belly for half the night was sore and aching, drained of all strength.
But the strong never showed weakness.
She ignored her discomfort and laid her hand on Zhou Jianghao’s stomach over her clothes. “Feeling any better?”
“After throwing up, it’s not as bad,” Zhou Jianghao said thoughtfully. She reached for Tan Qingya’s hand where it rested on her belly, about to interlace their fingers—when she felt an unnatural heat. She looked up in alarm.
Tan Qingya’s expression was utterly serene, save for her pallor. She looked just like always.
Lost in thought, Zhou Jianghao felt Tan Qingya give her hand a squeeze. Frowning, Tan Qingya asked, “Why are your hands so cold?”
“Hm?” Zhou Jianghao blinked. She hadn’t expected Tan Qingya to turn the tables like that—and with such righteous indignation. Stunned, she felt the temperature difference between them and began to doubt herself. “Maybe I didn’t dress warmly enough…?”
Her voice trailed off uncertainly. She wasn’t underdressed, and the room was plenty warm. She didn’t feel cold at all.
Another possibility occurred to her. She eyed Tan Qingya. “Are you the one with the fever?”
With that, she pulled her hand free to touch Tan Qingya’s forehead. But Tan Qingya leaned back out of reach, leaving her hand hovering in midair.
“It’s nothing,” Tan Qingya said, tugging Zhou Jianghao’s hand back down. Noticing her own nasal tone, she pursed her lips. “Just a little cold.”
She’d always been healthy and rarely fell ill, fevers even less so. She figured the headache was just from lack of sleep.
Zhou Jianghao was insistent for once. “We need to take your temperature.”
Worried Tan Qingya wouldn’t cooperate, she put on her sternest face. “We have to measure it.”
She paused for a few seconds, then realized how harsh she sounded and added coaxingly, “Do it, and I won’t go to work this morning.”
Tan Qingya had originally planned to make her take the day off to rest. But Zhou Jianghao felt better after vomiting and didn’t want to keep calling out, so she’d refused. Then Auntie Chen had arrived, and the subject had dropped.
“Take the full day.”
Tan Qingya’s eyes flickered as she began to haggle.
It was just a temperature check. If it got Zhou Jianghao to rest, it was a win-win.
“Half a day at most,” Zhou Jianghao countered, shaking her head. The hospital had enough staff without her, but she didn’t want to start taking frequent leaves.
“Fine.”
Tan Qingya relented when Zhou Jianghao wouldn’t budge.
Before she could stand to fetch the thermometer, Zhou Jianghao had already darted off and grabbed it. Tan Qingya chuckled at her uncharacteristic urgency. “Worried about me, huh?”
She’d meant to tease, but Zhou Jianghao met her gaze steadily and admitted plainly, “Yes.”
Just one simple word, firm as iron.
Tan Qingya froze.
The teasing words died on her tongue. Something bumped against her heart, leaving it sour and soft—a strangely novel sensation.
So she went along with it, letting Zhou Jianghao take her temperature obediently. At last, Zhou Jianghao whisked the thermometer away. Standing before her, she glanced at the reading and went pale.
“No fever, right?” Tan Qingya asked airily, tamping down her unease.
Zhou Jianghao didn’t reply. She took it again, her expression growing graver. Tan Qingya glanced over and saw the screen lit red. Frowning, she said, “Broken?”
“You’re the broken one,” Little Doctor Zhou said gravely, her voice low. “Tan Qingya, you have a high fever.”
It was the first time Zhou Jianghao had used her full name. Tan Qingya’s heart skipped. For once, she felt a twinge of nerves.
Maybe it was her imagination, but Zhou Jianghao looked almost fierce.
“Fever?” Tan Qingya coughed lightly, quashing the odd feeling. “Must’ve caught a chill. It’ll pass soon.”
“Who’s got a fever?”
Auntie Chen emerged from the kitchen with the porridge.
“Her,” Zhou Jianghao said, scowling. “High fever—thirty-nine point nine. We need to get her to the hospital now.”
“Oh dear!” Auntie Chen nearly dropped the bowl when she heard it was almost forty degrees. She panicked. “We have to go right away! Can’t let her burn her brains out!”
She added, “It’s dropped cold today—freezing out there! Bundle up thick!”
“It’s just a cold,” Tan Qingya said, rubbing her temple.
Auntie Chen hesitated. Tan Family’s Second Miss had made up her mind, and not even Old Madam could sway her.
Zhou Jianghao, though, acted as if she hadn’t heard, already on the phone with Little Wang.
It would take Little Wang about ten minutes to drive up. Remembering Auntie Chen’s warning, Zhou Jianghao dashed into the walk-in closet for a coat.
But once inside, she realized Tan Qingya had no heavy outerwear at all—just beautiful dresses that looked liable to freeze you.
She hadn’t fully moved her own things over yet either. Her warmer coats were still back at her old apartment.
She’d completely forgotten about the move during all this.
Only now did she realize how neglectful she’d been of this home. Or rather, she hadn’t truly made it her own. She’d always harbored a nagging thought that she could leave anytime.
It was a selfish notion.
Tan Qingya poured her heart into making this house a real home. Zhou Jianghao had fretted endlessly over how to be a good wife, but she’d never followed through. Her understanding had been too shallow—limited to the physical, ignoring everything else.
After a moment’s silence, she picked the least flimsy option from the bunch—the thickest of thin.
“It’s cold outside. Here, put this on.”
Burying her feelings, she handed the coat to Tan Qingya. Little Wang called; he was downstairs.
“Little Doctor Zhou,” Tan Qingya said, massaging her brow. “Some medicine will do. No need for the hospital.”
The tables had turned. Before today, Tan Qingya never would have imagined herself resisting a hospital trip.
“I’m worried about you,” Zhou Jianghao said, frowning.
Tan Qingya fell silent.
“If I’d been the one spiking nearly forty last night, would you have let me tough it out at home without a doctor?” Zhou Jianghao asked calmly, meeting her eyes.
Tan Qingya sighed.
Of course not.
She hadn’t taken Zhou Jianghao to the hospital last night only because it was a low-grade fever. Anything over thirty-eight, and she’d have dragged her there—no question. Forty degrees? Unthinkable.
Merchants always angled for an edge, though. She looked up at Zhou Jianghao. “Fine, hospital it is—but you have to see a doctor too.”
She paused, then added softly, “I’ll call the family doctor. None of your colleagues will know.”
Family doctor…
Zhou Jianghao blinked, reminded that Tan Qingya wasn’t just anyone.
Ordinary folks went to the hospital when sick. Tan Qingya could summon one to the house.
Zhou Jianghao exhaled in relief. “Can you get the family doctor here fast, then? I want her to check you first.”
Tan Qingya caught Zhou Jianghao’s meaning and realized there was no need to go out. She set her clothes aside and nodded. “Of course.”
Right in front of Zhou Jianghao, she quickly called the doctor and gave a brief rundown of both their conditions.
After hanging up, she turned and saw Zhou Jianghao busily pouring her a cup of hot water. Recalling how this girl had just solemnly voiced her worry with such a serious expression, Tan Qingya felt a powerful urge to kiss her well up inside.
And indeed, she pulled Zhou Jianghao into her arms and leaned down with familiar ease to claim her lips—only to stop abruptly just short of contact.
Seeing her halt, Zhou Jianghao blinked in slight surprise. Subconsciously, she tilted her face up and leaned in to kiss Tan Qingya first.
But her advance wasn’t as swift as Tan Qingya’s dodge.
“No.” Tan Qingya frowned, clearly displeased. “It’ll spread to you.”
This girl’s constitution was too frail; she didn’t dare pass the virus on to her.
At that thought, she couldn’t help letting out a wistful sigh.
She had a premonition that the coming days wouldn’t be easy on her.
The doctor arrived quickly and took Tan Qingya’s temperature again. Far from dropping, it had climbed to a scorching 40.2 degrees.
The misery of the high fever only grew more intense by the moment. Lying in bed, Tan Qingya felt as if there wasn’t a single inch of her body that didn’t ache. Even her mind began to grow foggy and dim.
Feeling the damp towel settle across her forehead, she struggled to pry her eyes open. Her thoughts were still on the high-maintenance girl before her, far more demanding than Little Beauty. “Have the doctor check you out. And don’t forget to call in sick and get some rest.”
