Chapter 57

Perhaps due to the intense emotional fluctuations, Wen Xin inexplicably came down with a fever in the early hours of the morning.

The temperature had indeed dropped recently, but it wasn’t that cold—yet she felt unusually chilled. In her sleep, she curled up tightly, her entire body shivering.

She didn’t wake up right away. Instead, she remained groggy in her dreams, which were filled with unpleasant memories: her aunt and uncle’s curses, her classmates’ mockery, the piercing screech of car horns, and ear-shattering screams and sobs.

It took a long time before Wen Xin finally escaped the nightmare.

She jolted awake, her forehead covered in glistening beads of sweat. She’d felt so cold just moments ago, but now she was burning up.

A fever?

Still dazed, Wen Xin got out of bed, found a thermometer, and checked her temperature: 38.9 degrees Celsius.

No wonder she felt so awful.

Wen Xin lowered her gaze and rummaged through the drawer for some medicine. She poured herself a glass of boiled water and swallowed the pills. The heavy, lightheaded sensation made it hard for her even to walk steadily, so she couldn’t do anything else. She could only crawl back into bed.

How pathetic—to be angered into illness.

People always grew unusually fragile when sick. Unbidden, Wen Xin reflected on her life over the past few years. No one enjoyed a life of constant toil and hardship. There were so many happy people out there—why was she the only one so unfortunate?

She thought back to her university days. All her dormmates, around the same age as her, came from well-off families. She was the only one without money, family, or friends. After classes, she’d rush off to work: hourly jobs, handing out flyers, tutoring… Over four years of college, she’d done it all.

She’d filled her days with busyness to distract herself, deliberately ignoring the sorrow and pain that weighed on her. But in the dead of night, those negative emotions would surge up like an undercurrent, plunging her into despair.

At those times, she’d encourage herself to try even harder: make more money to pay off debts, study well, live well. Things would get better eventually. One day, she’d make it through.

But when would that day come?

Wen Xin recalled the evening’s events, and her nose stung once more.

“…”

Would that day ever really arrive?

Dazed, Wen Xin drifted back into sleep, only waking when her alarm went off.

She reached up to touch her forehead; the fever had gone down a bit, but her body still ached all over. Instinct told her she was in no shape to go to work today. Struggling, she composed a text asking for sick leave and sent it to Manager Liu.

Then she found Fei Yuan’s contact and gave him a quick heads-up. Just as she was about to set her phone down, a message from Shi Qianyu popped up.

Shi Qianyu: [What are you doing?]

She seemed to be up unusually early today. Along with the text, she’d sent several photos taken through the car window, showing the scenery along her route.

Only then did Wen Xin remember: yesterday, Shi Qianyu had mentioned she had business outside the office all day and wouldn’t be in.

Good—that meant she wouldn’t notice Wen Xin had taken the day off.

Afraid Shi Qianyu would pick up on her odd mood, Wen Xin wracked her foggy brain to mimic her usual tone and chat idly with her. She told her to drive safely and remember to eat on time.

Shi Qianyu acknowledged each point and sent a smiley face: [Got it. Sister’s the best~]

From the other side of the screen, she was acting coquettish with Wen Xin: [Will you miss me?]

Wen Xin paused for a few seconds at the message. Normally, she might have felt embarrassed and flustered, firing off a reply telling her not to joke around.

But today, for some reason—maybe because illness made her emotions so raw—she really did miss Shi Qianyu.

To her, Shi Qianyu might be the only person she could rely on in the world. With her, even feelings of loneliness and emptiness could be held at bay.

Wen Xin replied honestly: [Yes.]

Even a single word was enough to fill Shi Qianyu with delight.

This was the first time Wen Xin had said she missed her so directly. Overjoyed, Shi Qianyu sent another message: [I’ll come back early.]

Wen Xin didn’t say much, just: [Okay.]

After a bit more small talk, Wen Xin put her phone away. Strangely, she found herself eagerly anticipating seeing Shi Qianyu—sooner, and even sooner.

Was she becoming too dependent on her?

Wen Xin’s cheeks were flushed from the fever, her body hot, but she still pulled the blanket up tight, wrapping herself snugly and peeking out only with her eyes.

It felt like this would give her a sense of security—no unexpected visitors, no bothersome worries. She felt protected, calm and safe.

~~~

The day passed quickly. The setting sun cast a dazzling afterglow, lighting up clouds on the horizon.

Having wrapped up her last errand, Shi Qianyu checked her phone. It wasn’t quitting time yet. She’d left in such a rush that morning that she’d forgotten a document at home. After a moment’s thought, she decided to swing by home first to grab it, then head to the office to pick up Wen Xin after work.

That was the plan.

Until she stepped out of the elevator and looked up—to see a very familiar figure at her door.

Wen Xin?

Shi Qianyu froze. She hadn’t expected her to be there at all.

The temperature wasn’t high today, and it had dropped even more by evening. Wen Xin wore a hat and was bundled in an oversized coat made of thick material, which made her look pleasantly plump.

So cute. Shi Qianyu wanted to reach out and hug her.

“A-Yu.” Wen Xin had been waiting there for quite a while. She didn’t know when Shi Qianyu would finish up and didn’t want to bother her with a message. After waiting and waiting until she grew restless—afraid something else might crop up if she stayed home too long—she’d simply come over.

So she’d forced herself out of bed, checked the weather, picked a suitable coat, and taken the subway.

Back in her student days, she’d gotten sick plenty of times and still dragged herself to work despite a fever, money over everything—it had been grueling, but she’d managed. Sure, there’d been grievances, but not too many.

But now… maybe it was because she had someone to depend on, because she’d tasted what it was like to be pampered and cared for. Just taking the subway with a fever left her feeling utterly aggrieved.

Someone had stepped on her foot along the way and walked off without apologizing. Wen Xin didn’t have the energy to argue, but it sank her mood even lower—especially realizing Shi Qianyu wasn’t home yet and she’d have to wait alone.

But now, seeing Shi Qianyu, all that displeasure melted away in an instant. A bit happy, she took the initiative to greet her: “You’re back.”

“Why’d you come over all of a sudden?” Shi Qianyu asked with concern. “Why didn’t you call ahead?”

Wen Xin’s cheeks were abnormally red. Shi Qianyu reached out to touch her face, then her forehead, assessing her condition: “You’re burning up.”

“What happened?” She looked straight into Wen Xin’s eyes, her voice full of worry. “When did the fever start? Have you taken any medicine? Let’s go to the hospital and get it checked, okay?”

No need for all that trouble.

Wen Xin shook her head. Compared to earlier, she was feeling much better now—no point in making a fuss: “I’ve taken medicine.”

“The fever’s gone down already, really.” She took the initiative to guide Shi Qianyu’s hand to her forehead. “Here, feel it.”

Shi Qianyu wasn’t convinced: “We should still get it looked at.”

Wen Xin kept shaking her head: “Really, no need.”

“Come inside and sit.” She murmured softly, gripping Shi Qianyu’s hand tightly, unwilling to let go.

Her state today was truly odd. Shi Qianyu sensed something and ventured, “Did something happen?”

After a pause of a few seconds, Wen Xin replied: “Nothing.”

Shi Qianyu didn’t buy it. She settled Wen Xin on the sofa and sat down beside her, leaning in: “You came all the way here despite a fever. There has to be something.”

“Sister won’t tell me?” Her tone was gentle. “It’d be better to talk about it. We can face it together.”

Her sincerity and warmth convinced Wen Xin she meant it—no mere politeness.

But even though Shi Qianyu wanted to hear it, Wen Xin didn’t want to say. Those family matters were the darkest part of her life, not fit to show anyone, and she didn’t want to drag Shi Qianyu into it—or worse, have her grow disgusted.

So she kept lying, forcing a light smile: “You’re overthinking it, A-Yu. Really, nothing’s wrong.”

Wen Xin thought she’d pulled it off seamlessly, but Shi Qianyu knew her too well and saw right through it.

Still, since Wen Xin didn’t want to say, Shi Qianyu wouldn’t push. “All right, if you say so.”

“Want something to eat? I can make it for you.” She stroked her head. “Or do you want to rest first?”

Wen Xin didn’t want her to leave and still clung to her hand: “I’m not hungry.”

“Can I lie down for a bit?” Over the more than twenty years since losing her parents, Wen Xin had never made unreasonable demands of anyone or acted spoiled—she knew no one would indulge her. But now, she couldn’t help it. She wanted to lean on the person before her, make a few selfish requests, hoping she’d stay by her side, hold her… “Will you stay with me, A-Yu?”

“Of course.” Shi Qianyu was thrilled that she was willing to depend on her. “I’d love to.”

She stood, took Wen Xin’s hand again, found some pajamas for her, and personally helped her change.

Her bedding was filled with a pleasant fragrance. Wen Xin lay on her bed, her heart suddenly calming as she borrowed the last rays of the sunset to gaze at the person before her. She watched as Shi Qianyu tidied herself simply and, just like Wen Xin, slipped into sleepwear.

Then Shi Qianyu turned to leave.

Panic surged through Wen Xin once more. “What are you going to do, A-Yu?”

“Get you a glass of water,” Shi Qianyu replied. “I’ll be right back.”

“No need.” Wen Xin shook her head, her eyes locked on Shi Qianyu’s face. “I’m not thirsty. I don’t want any.”

“Alright.” Shi Qianyu turned back, climbed onto the bed as Wen Xin wished, and pulled her into a tight embrace.

Wen Xin buried her face in Shi Qianyu’s chest, quietly savoring the hand resting on her back, the warmth of her body, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. In that moment, her memories blurred together, and the knife-edged panic and terror from the day before felt distant, so very distant.

Shi Qianyu gently stroked her hair, softly recounting the day’s events in a soothing voice. Wen Xin listened quietly, believing her emotions had finally steadied.

Until Shi Qianyu touched her forehead again. “Your temperature’s dropped a little more.”

“Is it better now?” she asked with tender concern. “Does it still hurt?”

In truth, the pain had already faded.

Yet for some reason, tears pricked at Wen Xin’s eyes once more. If Shi Qianyu hadn’t asked, she might have held it together—but the more she inquired, the stronger the urge to cry became. It was like struggling through endless darkness, gritting one’s teeth through every hardship, only to collapse just before the break of dawn, utterly unable to go on.

“It hurts.” Wen Xin pressed her face deeper into Shi Qianyu’s chest, tears falling silently as if she had at last found a release for all her pent-up emotion.

“It hurts so much.”