Chapter 75: Awake

She slept deeply, the rain clinging to the windowsill all night, dissolving half the city’s starlight and moonlight. It only quieted near dawn.

The room filled with humid air, carrying the cool scent of early autumn.

Yet Zhao Chiyun woke with a parched mouth and a headache like she’d been struck with a hammer.

She struggled to open her eyes and saw no one beside her. The time had already passed ten o’clock.

Zhao Chiyun was stunned. She had never slept so soundly, waking only when the sun was high in the sky.

The emptiness on the other pillow made her mood plummet instantly.

At this hour, Gan Xun had long gone to work. She must have seen how soundly Zhao Chiyun slept and chosen not to wake her.

It was reasonable enough, and she was used to it.

But with the gloomy weather and the room empty after the excitement, loneliness settled in.

She wanted to sit up for a sip of water to moisten her throat, but she was shocked to find her body unusually heavy and sore. She couldn’t muster any strength.

Bewildered and at a loss, she also felt aggrieved and impatient from the discomfort.

Calming herself, she lay there and raised a hand, barely pulling back part of the curtain.

A bit of daylight and cloud shadows squeezed in at once. Though not a sunny day, it dispelled some of the room’s gloom.

Zhao Chiyun eased a little from this, then forced herself to sit up.

In the bright light tinged with leaden gray, she stared blankly, her thoughts inevitably drifting to last night.

There were no images, but her body remembered better than she did, clearly recounting every detail without letting her forget a thing.

The surge of emotions could no longer be contained by a calm expression. She couldn’t bear it, furrowing her brows, pursing her lips tightly, and looking helplessly out the window.

She even felt relieved that Gan Xun wasn’t there right now.

At least it gave her time to accept it slowly on her own.

She didn’t want to face it, even though she had been fully conscious last night, neither drunk nor impulsive.

But Gan Xun was right—she perhaps hadn’t thought it through clearly enough.

She didn’t truly understand those intimate matters. The books she’d read and illustrations she’d seen were just artistic collages and revisions. What she’d picked up from the internet and friends’ scattered words was too one-sided and subjective.

It turned out it wasn’t just a matter of nodding in agreement and getting it done—even after succeeding, it could be overwhelming.

No one had ever told her there was a chance she couldn’t handle it. She thought as long as one wanted to, everyone could naturally adapt.

It could reach such an extreme, making one’s mind blur and self fade away.

She had released until she felt utterly empty, yet Gan Xun had told her that hadn’t even been the official start.

Good thing it hadn’t gone further.

But she didn’t regret any of it from last night. She was truly glad that this unfamiliar, hasty experience was shared with Gan Xun.

She was very clear on that point.

Her face grew hot, her whole body burning as if she were still in Gan Xun’s arms, and her head grew even dizzier after sitting up.

Last night’s sensations revived, pulling her back into that abyss, scorching her.

Good thing Gan Xun wasn’t there, she thought.

But the next second, the door opened, and Gan Xun came in still wearing her pajamas.

The two met each other’s eyes.

Gan Xun had tiptoed in to check if she was awake, not expecting her to already be sitting up.

“You’re awake.”

Zhao Chiyun instinctively averted her eyes. Gan Xun circled the desk and hurried over, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing her a cup of water.

“Your lips look dry. Drink some. I just poured it—it’s still warm.”

Zhao Chiyun took the cup and drank two small sips in silence, slowly. It felt much better going down her throat before she spoke.

“Why didn’t you go to work?”

She heard her own voice still hoarse after drinking, carrying an unprecedented depth.

Thinking of why it had that depth made her embarrassed all over again.

Zhao Chiyun’s voice was hoarse, her face slightly pale. After speaking, perhaps from discomfort, an unnatural flush rose on her cheeks.

Her ink-black long hair draped over her shoulders, messier than usual after waking, making her look even more haggard—like a sickly beauty.

Seeing her lightly furrowed brows, Gan Xun had the urge to smooth them.

She first touched her forehead. “You were burning up this morning. I took your temperature—a slight fever. I wasn’t worried, so I called in sick.”

“I’m sick?”

“Yeah, the temperature dropped yesterday. You might have caught a chill at home, and then again…”

Zhao Chiyun immediately shoved the cup back into her hands, interrupting. “I’m done drinking.”

Gan Xun paused, said “oh,” and set the cup on the bedside table.

“Anywhere uncomfortable?”

She rubbed Zhao Chiyun’s brow to smooth the creases, then massaged her temples.

“Dizzy, blurry vision, parched mouth, body hot and cold at once.”

As she listed more symptoms, Gan Xun’s expression grew more pitiful, as if she were the one suffering.

Originally, with just a low fever, Gan Xun thought it was fatigue plus chill—rest would fix it, no need for meds yet.

She tucked her in, let her sleep more to sweat it out. Now the forehead felt cooler, but she hadn’t expected such misery.

Gan Xun said seriously, “If it’s this bad, let’s go to the hospital and get checked.”

“I don’t want to!”

Gan Xun coaxed patiently. “A checkup would put my mind at ease.”

“I don’t like strangers poking at me.”

“They’re doctors—it’s for your own good. You’re uncomfortable now, so just focus on your body.”

Zhao Chiyun still refused, but she lacked the strength to shake her head and feared worsening the dizziness.

“Give me medicine then. Do you have any I can take? I saw Cui Can and the others pop pills when sick without making a fuss. Just give me some.”

“Who said that? They only self-medicate for minor stuff. If it’s bad, Cui Can runs to the hospital fastest. Besides, you’re nobility—how can you compare to commoners? When you’re sick, how could it not make a fuss?”

Zhao Chiyun wasn’t falling for it this time. She snorted coldly, gave her a look, and said, “Now you remember I’m nobility?”

That look held so much—Gan Xun saw she was holding a grudge.

She couldn’t help laughing, leaning close to ask, “Because I made you beg me last night?”

“Get out!”

Zhao Chiyun flared up instantly.

Gan Xun didn’t dare think more, afraid of recalling how obedient Zhao Chiyun had been last night, how she’d let her do anything. She wouldn’t stay calm sitting there.

That morning while brushing her teeth, she’d grinned at the mirror and nearly choked.

She’d guessed Zhao Chiyun would be shy today, so she planned not to tease—but hadn’t expected her to bring it up first.

“Fine, fine, we won’t talk about it.”

Gan Xun coaxed humbly, not wanting any emotional ups and downs.

“Then cold medicine first. But we agreed—if it gets worse after or doesn’t work, we go to the hospital. Checkups if needed, IV if needed.”

Zhao Chiyun knew about IVs. Once, she’d seen a cut on Yan Qiuyu’s hand and asked; Yan Qiuyu said it was from an IV needle, took days to fade.

Just hearing it hurt. She didn’t want needles jabbed into her. Her expression turned extremely reluctant, very unwilling to agree.

She lowered her gaze to evade, but spotted the hickeys creeping up from her slightly open collar.

Realizing something, she lifted the collar for a peek inside, stunned in disbelief. She pressed it down and glared at Gan Xun.

Gan Xun looked sheepish, guessing what she’d seen. Sorry, but no apology—that moment, who could hold back?

Still, she asked, “Okay?”

The word “no” would just bring more coaxing. Zhao Chiyun didn’t want to hear it, so she said nothing and pretended to lie back down, feigning sleep.

Gan Xun thought she was unwell and grew uneasy, stuffing another pillow behind her for support. In an even softer voice, she asked, “Any other discomfort?”

To Zhao Chiyun, her voice sounded sticky and sweet, clinging to the heart.

Gan Xun always spoke to people like that—muddled, gentle, evoking warmth and romantic imaginings.

Zhao Chiyun couldn’t help turning her head away first, then back for a glance. In her eyes, she saw pure concern, no teasing.

“Yes, I need to bathe and change.”

“Okay, I’ll get your clothes.”

Gan Xun said it but didn’t move. “Is it really that bad?”

She wasn’t deliberately asking uncomfortable questions. With no experience, she couldn’t empathize and had to ask more.

Though careful last night, she couldn’t guarantee Zhao Chiyun felt comfortable throughout. Nor did she know if one felt bad after indulgence.

Unclear if it was a cold or from that causing the fever.

Worried and self-blaming, deep down she also hoped Zhao Chiyun would share her feelings.

To know good/bad, adjustments needed. Intimacy brought closeness not just bodily but mentally—no secrets.

A large red flush crept up Zhao Chiyun’s neck. “I don’t want to say.”

Her tension and shyness triggered memories for Gan Xun, who leaned closer, almost brushing noses.

“It’s fine, no need to be shy. Any soreness or pain?”

After asking, Gan Xun’s heart fluttered. Unable to help herself, she kissed her, then pulled back for an answer.

Her lips felt cooler than Zhao Chiyun’s in her feverish state—comfortably so.

Zhao Chiyun stared at the lips, her face soon reddening too. She pushed Gan Xun.

Gan Xun didn’t budge, her mind suddenly rippling, thrust back into last night.

Recalling the scenery Zhao Chiyun allowed her to explore, the music heard, the taste savored.

Gan Xun apologized, kept coaxing. “My fault, I’m bad. Tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”

Though her thoughts wandered, she was sincere—willing to suffer in her place, hating any discomfort.

“No.”

Pressed relentlessly, Zhao Chiyun answered fast despite not wanting to.

Seeing no reply, thinking disbelief and more questions coming, she added details. “Just a bit sore in the waist and abdomen. Rest is fine. No more questions.”

Gan Xun breathed relief, then asked, “Was it comfortable anywhere?”

Catching the teasing lilt, Zhao Chiyun flushed in fury. “Gan Xun, you’re so vulgar.”

Gan Xun blinked innocently, looking naughty but pleased.

“Yeah, I’m vulgar.”

As she said it, she wanted to kiss again—the urge strong since waking.

Zhao Chiyun dodged, glanced at her lips then away quickly, steeling herself. “No more of that from now on.”

Gan Xun asked, “No more of what?”

She surely knew, just feigning ignorance—Zhao Chiyun knew it.

This person was too infuriating. She was sick, yet Gan Xun stirred trouble to bully her.

Zhao Chiyun glared down furiously, then lifted her gaze, emotions faded mostly.

She hooked Gan Xun with her eyes, a seductive smile playing, softly saying, “Come closer to my ear.”

Instinct told Gan Xun something off, but her body obeyed eagerly.

Zhao Chiyun placed a hand on her shoulder, pressing lightly while sucking her earlobe, deftly licking with her tongue tip, probing a bit.

Gan Xun hadn’t expected it. The sudden stimulation made her gasp beautifully, dodging aside quickly.

Satisfied, Zhao Chiyun pinched her chin, turning her face squarely, smiling coldly. “Control your tongue. Understand?”