Chapter 38

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It wasn’t the bed she wasn’t used to sleeping on. It was the person.

Lying on the bed in Ning Jiuwei’s room, Su Jinglan still felt no sleepiness. Tonight marked the third night she had slept here, and two quilts still lay on the bed.

Su Jinglan rolled over onto her side, facing the empty half of the bed, yearning for Ning Jiuwei’s warmth and embrace.

Ning Jiuwei grabbed her pajamas and entered the bathroom. The two rooms shared identical layouts, differing only in their orientation. She stripped off her clothes, padded barefoot to the showerhead, and turned on the hot water.

Learning from past experience, she tested the temperature this time to ensure sudden shifts wouldn’t trigger her old ailment.

She probably wouldn’t suddenly spike a fever again.

Hot water poured over her back and neck, streaming along her smooth skin to the floor. Ning Jiuwei gripped the handrail with one hand, eyes closed and head slightly bowed.

A faint fragrance lingered on the pillow. The warmth beneath the quilt had chilled again with Su Jinglan’s departure. Ning Jiuwei blow-dried her hair and lay down in the spot where Su Jinglan had slept.

Both beds were two meters wide, the soft mattress yielding as it cradled her body. Ning Jiuwei lay flat on her back, hands folded over her stomach. They’d switched rooms, so Su Jinglan probably wouldn’t share the bed with her anymore, would she?

Ning Jiuwei opened her eyes. After climbing into bed, only the two bedside lamps remained lit—bright enough to see by without hindering sleep. She glanced at the phone on the nightstand and hesitantly picked it up.

As expected, the notification bar brimmed with message alerts.

She scrolled through them one by one. Surprisingly, there were no messages from Su Jinglan.

After telling Su Jinglan, “Let’s switch rooms,” Ning Jiuwei had clearly seen the surprise in her eyes, quickly softening into a gentle smile. “Then thank you, Designer Ning,” she had said with a laugh, accepting the offer.

She hadn’t bothered closing the door on her way over. Dressed in her pajamas, Su Jinglan had simply grabbed her phone and headed to Ning Jiuwei’s room.

Ning Jiuwei slowly pushed herself upright, propping against the mattress. Fresh from the hot shower, her skin glowed with comfortable warmth. She leaned back against the headboard and tapped open her WeChat chat with Su Jinglan.

The last message was from Su Jinglan.

It wasn’t just Su Jinglan—Ning Jiuwei herself was struggling to get comfortable on this bed. They were identical business king rooms, so why did it feel so different? She puzzled over it endlessly.

Time slipped by, but Ning Jiuwei stayed propped up without stirring.

She wasn’t the only one tossing and turning that night. Shen Lanyan, wide awake, sent a message requesting an additional custom design.

Ning Jiuwei glanced at the time displayed at the top of her phone screen. At this hour, she never replied to clients—no matter how lavish their spending or how indifferent they were to steep design fees.

She exited WeChat and logged into Weibo to check the real-time hot searches.

She maintained two Weibo accounts: a verified designer profile and a small one she’d registered back in university. She rarely posted, so it hardly mattered which she used. Right now, she was on the main account bearing her full name.

She knew her follower count by heart. Seeing it spike by tens of thousands, Ning Jiuwei frowned in bewilderment.

Had the company bought more fans again?

Private messages were disabled, hiding any incoming notes. She checked her follower list and scanned the new ones. Their usernames gave it away.

They were all Shen Lanyan’s fans.

Celebrities maintained official accounts under their big names. Ning Jiuwei searched for Shen Lanyan and visited her profile. That’s when she understood the follower boom—they’d come via Shen Lanyan’s latest follow.

Ning Jiuwei’s own feed consisted solely of company-related business promotions, nothing personal. She didn’t follow Shen Lanyan back. Instead, she logged out and switched to her small account.

Even the small account had picked up a few new followers—usernames paired with strings of numbers, the kind Weibo handed out for free.

After scrolling hot searches on the small account, sleepiness evaded her entirely. If anything, she felt more alert. Ning Jiuwei lay back down, returned the phone to the nightstand, switched off the bedside lamp, and closed her eyes, willing sleep to come.

Darkness gradually tugged drowsiness over her, carrying Ning Jiuwei into slumber.

The nightmare struck again.

Chaotic night swallowed her whole. The air thinned, draining away bit by bit. Her oxygen-starved heart pounded faster, the suffocating grip of near-death stealing her breath. Ning Jiuwei’s foot slipped into void, and she tumbled off a cliff. Her body convulsed sharply, jolting her awake.

She gulped air in desperate heaves, a thin sheen of sweat beading on her forehead. Chills and feverish heat washed over her in waves.

She flicked on the bedside lamp. The warm orange glow helped steady her frayed nerves.

Her phone, in sleep mode, stayed dark despite incoming messages. Ning Jiuwei’s gaze drifted blankly to it. Moments later, she reached over and picked it up.

Logic screamed not to check—it would only sharpen her wakefulness—but her hand moved of its own accord.

Unlocking the screen, she saw the notification bar blinking with unread WeChat messages.

Ning Jiuwei tapped into it and saw that it was a message from Su Jinglan, sent just a few minutes earlier.

“Has Designer Ning gone to sleep yet?”

Ning Jiuwei replied: About to.

Su Jinglan, wide awake and restless, lit up with excitement when she received Ning Jiuwei’s response. Her eyes swept over the suitcase propped against the desk, and she messaged back: Where’s the fever medicine?

The medicine was in the suitcase—and no one but Ning Jiuwei herself was allowed to rummage through it.

Ning Jiuwei’s heart leaped into her throat at the message. She tamped down the impulse to go fetch it herself and instead instructed Su Jinglan that the medicine was tucked in the corner of the suitcase; she’d have to open it up and get it herself.

Her undergarments were all stowed away in organizer bags, and there was nothing else embarrassing in there. With Su Jinglan’s impeccable character, she wouldn’t go poking around indiscriminately.

After sending the message, there was silence from the other side.

Ning Jiuwei timed it out in her head—the few minutes it would take to unzip the suitcase and hunt for the medicine were more than enough time to turn the whole thing inside out—yet still no reply from Su Jinglan.

She sent another message: Found it yet?

No response.

Ning Jiuwei threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. She had two key cards for Room 2202: one plugged into the power socket, the other tucked in her clothing pocket.

Grabbing a card, she hesitated behind the door, then pulled out the one for Room 2201 instead and headed across the hall.

The quiet corridor glowed as bright as daylight even in the dead of night. Dressed in her pajamas, Ning Jiuwei paused briefly at the door before swiping it open.

A soft beep echoed from the door to the bed. Beneath the mound of covers, Su Jinglan didn’t stir.

Ning Jiuwei shut the door behind her and called out tentatively from the entryway. “President Su?”

The dim bedside lamp cast flickering shadows across the room. With no answer from Su Jinglan, Ning Jiuwei hurried over.

Su Jinglan lay curled up under the blankets, her disheveled hair fanned halfway across the pillow. She looked genuinely miserable, as if racked by illness.

“Su Jinglan, are you running a fever?” Fevers could lead to delirium, and Ning Jiuwei had no idea when the sickness had come on. Gently, she lifted the edge of the covers and pressed her palm to Su Jinglan’s forehead.

The instant her hand made contact, Su Jinglan shrank deeper into the bedding.

Ning Jiuwei leaned closer, carefully peeling back the covers and slipping her hand inside to gauge her temperature.

From underneath, a hand clamped around her wrist, as if repelling the touch. Ning Jiuwei softened her voice. “Let me just check your temperature.”

“Fine by me.” Su Jinglan’s arm snaked out, hooking around Ning Jiuwei’s waist. With a swift twist, she pulled her onto the bed and bundled them both tightly in the covers.

The thin fabric of their pajamas offered little barrier; the smooth material transmitted the heat of their bodies with perfect clarity. Su Jinglan was indeed burning up. Ning Jiuwei tried to sit up, but Su Jinglan pinned her hands with a gentle smile that betrayed not a hint of feverish weakness.

Realization dawned, and Ning Jiuwei’s voice turned icy. “You’re not sick?”

“A little feverish.” Looming over her, Su Jinglan locked eyes with Ning Jiuwei. Flames of desire danced in her intense gaze. Ning Jiuwei felt it viscerally—her breath hitched, her heart plunging into an inferno of stifling heat.

Their faces were so close that Su Jinglan’s breath felt suffocating, her scent invading Ning Jiuwei’s lungs and sapping her strength bit by bit. While she still could, Ning Jiuwei twisted free, breaking Su Jinglan’s hold.

Su Jinglan wrapped her arms around her waist. Gone was the cool tone, the haughty demeanor—replaced by a soft plea. “Teacher Ning, don’t go. I can’t sleep alone.”

Sharing a bed was dangerous, especially with the charged atmosphere tonight. Ning Jiuwei pried Su Jinglan’s hands away, only for her to clutch at the hem of her pajamas instead, looking all soft and docile. “We’ll each have our own blanket. Just sleep beside me, okay?”

It was impossible to resist Su Jinglan like this.

Ning Jiuwei had never seen her this way.

Remembering her own fitful sleep alone in the room across the hall, Ning Jiuwei relented inwardly but put on a show of reluctance, furrowing her brow. “Fine. But no funny business. And stay out of my covers.”

Satisfied that Ning Jiuwei wasn’t leaving, Su Jinglan slowly let go.

True to her word, Ning Jiuwei settled in beside her, a blanket’s thickness between them.

The room’s nightlight stayed on. Su Jinglan gazed at the back of Ning Jiuwei’s head, her lips curving into an involuntary smile. Her heart raced with the thrill of her company; adrenaline surged through her veins, fueling an overwhelming tide of affection she could barely contain.

The scorching intensity of that stare left Ning Jiuwei unsettled. She flicked off the light and tugged the covers up tight, shielding herself completely.

She drifted off again—and this time, with Su Jinglan beside her, the nightmares stayed away.

Su Jinglan alone endured the exquisite torment of her beloved lying so near, yet untouchable. Her pajamas bunched and wrinkled from her white-knuckled grip. Beneath the covers, where Ning Jiuwei couldn’t sense it, her breaths came slow and ragged, laced with heat.

The next morning when they woke, the two of them lay under their separate quilts, no longer wrapped in each other’s intimate embrace like the previous two nights. Yet their heads were still pressed close together.

Ning Jiuwei stirred and realized she was nestled right in the crook of Su Jinglan’s neck. A quick check of her own sleeping position made it obvious that she had been the one to snuggle up to Su Jinglan.

Taking advantage of the fact that Su Jinglan hadn’t woken yet, Ning Jiuwei quietly shifted back toward her own pillow.

In truth, Su Jinglan had woken much earlier.

She had watched every one of Ning Jiuwei’s little movements, and she couldn’t help but chuckle softly in amusement.

Ning Jiuwei, who had only made it halfway: “…” She swung her body back with deliberate flair, settling openly onto her own pillow before turning her back to Su Jinglan.

Su Jinglan propped herself up on the bed and shifted closer, until her forehead brushed Ning Jiuwei’s ear. She wrapped her arms around Ning Jiuwei over the quilt and murmured softly into her ear, “Teacher Ning, did you sleep well last night?”

The question came with a playful lilt, and Ning Jiuwei immediately grew wary, sensing the trap hidden in those words. After a moment’s thought, she replied, “I slept deeply. I didn’t feel a thing.”

It was neither an admission nor a denial—skillfully dodging Su Jinglan’s trap.

Su Jinglan gently nuzzled her ear. “No wonder Teacher Ning refused to leave no matter how much I tried to push her away. She just kept rubbing against my neck like that.”

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