Chapter 35: Too Light

Yang Zhao didn’t wake up, but sweat had already broken out all over her body. She held Hua Man tightly, her face twisted in an ugly expression from whatever dream plagued her, her brows furrowed tightly.

“Yang Zhao?”

Seeing no response from Yang Zhao, Hua Man forcibly pried her arms open and quickly grabbed her phone to contact Yu Shan.

Yu Shan arrived swiftly, clearly having just rolled out of bed—her hair a messy tangle sticking up everywhere. She didn’t bother fixing it, hurrying in with a doctor trailing behind her.

“The young miss hates having sweat on her body the most. How could you not wipe her clean?”

Spotting Yang Zhao’s hair matted to her face from the sweat, Yu Shan couldn’t help glaring at Hua Man in frustration, as if she were useless metal that refused to be forged into steel.

She rushed to the bathroom to fill a basin with water and grabbed a clean towel, shoving it into Hua Man’s hands. “Hurry up and wipe the young miss down!”

“Me?”

Hua Man was surprised. She had assumed Yu Shan would fight to do it herself.

“Of course you.”

Though Yu Shan was reluctant deep down, her head was clear. The young miss would only bring Hua Man along more in the future, not less. She had to properly train Hua Man to learn how to care for the young miss.

No matter what, she couldn’t let the young miss suffer any grievances.

“Hurry up.” She urged.

Hua Man had no choice but to wet the towel and wipe Yang Zhao’s face with clumsy movements.

She used perfectly normal pressure, but after just one swipe, a red mark appeared on Yang Zhao’s face.

Yu Shan, who had been craning her neck to supervise, instantly jumped up. “Lighter!”

Hua Man furrowed her brows slightly. “Got it.”

Her movements lightened considerably.

The lighter she went, the slower she moved, and the slower she moved, the longer she stared.

A flawless face, now tinged with an unnatural flush from the fever, took on a startlingly vivid hue—like a mountain demon.

Originally, Hua Man thought she only needed to wipe her face.

The doctor finally gave her diagnosis: just a low fever from catching a chill. Physical cooling methods would suffice. If the temperature rose or the fever persisted, then medication.

Keep her hydrated in the meantime.

Worried the condition might worsen, Yu Shan arranged for the doctor to stay nearby.

Just as Yu Shan was about to personally wipe down Yang Zhao’s body, Yang Zhao finally came to.

“Young miss.” Yu Shan’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“Not dead yet—what are you crying for?” Yang Zhao waved her hand dismissively. “Go back. Let Hua Man take care of me.”

“She’s all thumbs. She hurt you just wiping your face.” Yu Shan couldn’t resist lodging a complaint.

Yang Zhao put on a serious face. “I’ll punish her later.”

Satisfied at last, Yu Shan gave Hua Man a bunch of detailed instructions before leaving.

Now the room held only Yang Zhao and Hua Man. Hua Man waited quietly, wondering how Yang Zhao planned to punish her.

“What are you standing there for?” Yang Zhao lifted her gaze listlessly. “Wipe me down. I feel disgusting.”

She hated that sticky, clammy feeling on her skin the most.

Hua Man murmured softly, “Okay.”

Wiping a sleeping Yang Zhao was a completely different experience from wiping one who was awake.

Yang Zhao seemed utterly oblivious to the word shame. When she said to wipe her body, she simply shrugged off her robe, baring her beautiful form without reservation.

She stared straight at Hua Man. “Go on, wipe.”

Hua Man pressed her lips together. Being watched so intently made it hard to start.

“Hurry up.”

Seeing her hesitate, Yang Zhao frowned.

Hua Man took a deep breath, forcing herself to ignore Yang Zhao’s gaze as she wiped her gently.

“Too light.” Yang Zhao critiqued.

She reached out, pinching Hua Man’s chin, and said earnestly, “I like it when you go harder.”

Since Yang Zhao had put it that way, Hua Man increased the pressure and wiped more briskly.

Physical cooling didn’t require wiping the chest area, so she deliberately avoided it—only for Yang Zhao to grow dissatisfied again. “Why aren’t you wiping here?”

She pointed directly at her own chest. “There’s sweat here too.”

The soft flesh dented under her press, and Hua Man’s face burned hot.

Did she have no sense of shame at all?!

“The doctor said physical cooling should avoid your chest and abdomen.” Hua Man didn’t dare look anymore. She grabbed a blanket from the side and covered Yang Zhao up. “Rest now.”

As she started to stand, a scorching hand seized her wrist.

She looked down at Yang Zhao, who had propped herself up slightly.

Hua Man’s mind went blank with tension. She thought Yang Zhao would insist on the wiping, but instead, Yang Zhao changed the subject:

“Accompany me to sleep.”

Hua Man froze for a few seconds, caught off guard by the sudden shift. She didn’t agree right away. “I need to take care of you. I have to check your temperature every so often.”

“It’s just a fever.” Yang Zhao brushed it off.

Seeing Hua Man still resisting, she grew impatient. “This isn’t up for discussion. That’s an order.”

“I didn’t discuss it with you either.” Hua Man lowered her eyes, her attitude uncharacteristically firm. “My job tonight is to take care of you, not to sleep with you.”

Yang Zhao felt like the fever must have fried her brain—she was starting to hallucinate. She released Hua Man and rubbed her throbbing temples. “What did you just say?”

“I’ll get you an ice pack.”

Hua Man turned and walked away.

Yang Zhao: “…”

Was Hua Man taking advantage of her illness to climb over her head? Her guts were getting bigger and bigger.

But with her limbs weak and head pounding, she lacked the energy to settle scores with Hua Man for now. She could only lie obediently on the bed.

After lying quietly for a bit, she couldn’t help saying:

“I’m uncomfortable. Call the doctor.”

Footsteps approached. Yang Zhao turned her head slightly and watched Hua Man draw near, her expression stern. Hua Man pressed down on her shoulder, pinning her to the bed. Before she could react, an ice pack was placed on her forehead.

“So cold.”

Unhappy, she shook her head, trying to dislodge it.

“Don’t move.”

Her head was quickly held in place, Hua Man’s tone commanding.

At that, Yang Zhao’s eyes gleamed faintly. She stared intently. “I said I’m uncomfortable. Call the doctor.”

“The doctor left medicine.” Under that gaze, Hua Man grew uneasy. She turned to fetch the fever reducers, then went to pour tea, her voice softening a bit. “Take the medicine?”

Seeing her revert to that meek, obedient demeanor, Yang Zhao’s eyes flickered. “Fine. Help me up.”

Hua Man reached out to support her, helping her sit up.

Yang Zhao wasn’t fussy about taking medicine. Her movements were swift and decisive—she swallowed the pills in seconds and downed the entire cup of water before lying back down.

This time, she lay still obediently.

Sick, she looked listless, her face pale, eyes dull. She actually seemed a bit pitiable.

Hua Man tried to suppress the thought.

Yang Zhao couldn’t possibly be some real little pitiful. She couldn’t let herself be fooled by Yang Zhao’s current frailty.

The room fell quiet.

After taking the medicine, Yang Zhao soon fell asleep again.

Listening to Yang Zhao’s breathing gradually even out, Hua Man quietly exhaled in relief. She sat silently by the bed, studying her closely: even in sleep, Yang Zhao’s brows remained furrowed, as if she still felt unwell.

Unlike in TV dramas where feverish delirium led to rambling dream talk, she slept peacefully, looking utterly harmless.

In the latter half of the night, Yang Zhao’s temperature didn’t rise again. The medicine must have worked; it dropped quickly, and her furrowed brows slowly relaxed.

Hua Man pulled out her phone and messaged Yu Shan:

—The fever’s gone down.

After a moment’s thought, she snapped a photo showing the thermometer reading and sent it too, for proof.

Yu Shan, clearly still awake, replied instantly: Thanks for the hard work! Take good care of the young miss!

Hua Man didn’t reply. As she was about to set the phone down, her gaze inadvertently swept over Yang Zhao, and her movements paused.

As if possessed, she raised the phone and secretly snapped a photo of Yang Zhao sleeping.

It was just a casual shot, but it turned out beautifully, evoking a serene sense of peaceful years.

Sleepiness washed over her. Hua Man put away the phone, not climbing back into bed but lying down directly on the nearby tatami mat.

After a night of fussing, her eyelids grew heavier. She fell into a deep sleep mere seconds after lying down.

She slept poorly.

It felt like a nightmare, but when she jolted awake, she couldn’t recall any details—just heart palpitations and panic that took a long time to subside.

“Had a nightmare?”

A slightly hoarse voice suddenly sounded in her ear.

Hua Man’s gaze sharpened. Only then did she notice Yang Zhao sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her, wrapped in a small blanket.

“You were talking in your sleep just now.” Yang Zhao reached out as she spoke, her fingertip hovering over Hua Man’s still-furrowed brow. “You were calling for Mama.”

She sighed. “You really are such a mama’s girl, huh?”

“Honestly, seeing that cool beauty face of yours all scrunched up calling for mama—it’s pretty shocking.”

“You’re lying.”

Hua Man didn’t believe she’d do something so childish in her sleep, so she was certain Yang Zhao was teasing her.

“How could I be?” Yang Zhao sighed faintly. She tossed aside the little blanket and crawled toward Hua Man, squeezing into the tatami space with her. “How could I lie to you?”

With that, she hugged Hua Man tightly. “Manman, how could you wrong me like this?”

Her embrace was so tight that Hua Man could barely breathe.

What madness was she on now?!

Hua Man gently pulled her away. “What are you doing? Feeling better?”

But the next second, Yang Zhao hugged her tight again, tone certain. “You had a nightmare.”

“Yes, I did have a nightmare.” Not knowing why Yang Zhao was suddenly acting up again, Hua Man compromised first. True or not, she’d admit it for now.

Yang Zhao continued, “You miss your mom.”

That, Hua Man absolutely couldn’t nod to. “It must be that you mishe…”

Though she didn’t remember the nightmare, she could rule out missing her mom right away.

Unfortunately, before she finished, Yang Zhao bit her lip.

It was a ruthless nip. Pain jolted Hua Man fully awake, the taste of blood spreading. She could clearly feel the blood welling from her lip only to be sucked away by Yang Zhao.

Like a vampire.

Yang Zhao soon released her, sprawling atop her, eyes locked on hers, lips still stained with the fresh blood from the bite.

At this moment, Yang Zhao still radiated aggression, as if she’d bite again if Hua Man didn’t agree. Her lip wound throbbed faintly. Hua Man turned her head away and compromised once more. “Fine, I miss my mom.”

Yang Zhao looked pleased.

She leaned down again. Hua Man tensed, toes curling, bracing for another bite.

But this time, Yang Zhao kissed her gently.

The complete opposite of before—like soothing, like coaxing—a kiss so tender it nearly made Hua Man melt.

Like a blaze, scorching her until she felt she might dissolve.

Hua Man instinctively parted her lips.

So hot, so burning.

Had she forgotten something?

A scorching hand pressed to her heart, her breathing instantly disordered. As she leaned in to kiss back, the next instant, she snapped alert.

Yang Zhao was so hot—had the fever come back?!