Chapter 43 Part 1

Le Yiqiu obediently finished her medicine, her gaze fixed on Lin Xianing’s figure. A warm, fuzzy feeling bloomed in her heart.

She had originally planned to have a heart-to-heart talk with Lin Xianing today, but instead, she had come down with a fever and ended up causing her so much trouble.

“How about I just head home?” she suggested. It was only a low-grade fever; a good night’s sleep ought to fix it.

Lin Xianing, who had been sipping her water, suddenly lifted her gaze and fixed it steadily on Le Yiqiu without a word.

Caught off guard by the stare, Le Yiqiu felt a pang of inexplicable guilt. She quickly flashed a smile. “I’m sick right now. If I go home alone and my fever spikes, there’d be no one to look after me.”

“Can I stay at your place tonight?”

She earnestly beseeched the great Lin Xianing to take in this poor, sickly little thing.

Lin Xianing let out a soft “Mm,” setting her water glass down. “Do you want to take a shower first?”

“You go ahead,” Le Yiqiu replied. She lacked the energy to move and wanted to rest a bit longer.

“Alright.” Lin Xianing agreed, then continued, “Er Niu, draw the curtains.”

Le Yiqiu’s head was spinning, leaving her no bandwidth for stray thoughts. She leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes. Those few short exchanges had already drained her, and drowsiness crept in once more.

In her hazy state, she dozed off on the sofa again. The sounds of Lin Xianing emerging from the bathroom jolted her awake.

Le Yiqiu parted her lips, mustering all her strength just to speak.

“I’ll go take a shower too.”

“Don’t lock the door. I’ve turned on the ventilation—you don’t need to adjust it.”

Lin Xianing wouldn’t let her lock the door and had even opened the vent, clearly worried she might faint in the bathroom.

With a fever, the steamy heat of a bathroom could easily lead to trouble.

Le Yiqiu nodded and clutched the clothes Lin Xianing had prepared for her as she shuffled into the bathroom.

She couldn’t soak in a bath, so she braced herself against the wall and stood under the showerhead, rushing to finish as quickly as possible.

Her condition was truly off—her mind felt detached from her body. After washing up, she emerged from the bathroom in a silk nightgown with only two buttons fastened.

Lin Xianing: “…”

“Your buttons,” Lin Xianing pointed out, turning her head away awkwardly.

Le Yiqiu had only buttoned two, leaving everything inside exposed. Though nothing explicit was visible, the tantalizing glimpses were enough to stir the imagination.

Le Yiqiu glanced down in a hurry, her face exploding with red. In her dizziness, she had thought she had fastened it properly. She quickly turned her back and buttoned up her nightgown.

She had no idea how strong an impact that scene had on Lin Xianing.

It was a classic beauty-fresh-from-the-bath image, with faint outlines of abs and a subtle bulge mostly concealed below.

Lin Xianing instinctively picked up her water glass, her mouth suddenly parched. She wondered if it was because the heater was cranked too high.

Once Le Yiqiu had straightened her clothes, she shuffled forward slowly, cheeks still burning.

Lin Xianing cleared her throat lightly, trying—and failing—to shake the naughty thoughts from her mind.

The heat rising in her body made her tug at her collar. A hint of cool air slipped in, easing her somewhat.

Not daring to let her mind wander further, Lin Xianing reined in her foggy brain. “Sit down. I’ll blow-dry your hair for you.”

Only if Le Yiqiu faced away from her would Lin Xianing feel a little less tormented.

Lost in her embarrassment and with her fever-addled brain still playing hooky, Le Yiqiu didn’t notice Lin Xianing’s discomposure.

She obediently draped herself over the sofa, burying her head in the crook of her arm, letting Lin Xianing toy with her damp strands.

Feeling the gentle touch from behind, Le Yiqiu grew drowsy once more amid the haze.

Being sick was like a sleep bug had bitten her—alert for a moment, then crashing again.

Seeing Le Yiqiu sprawled there as if in a coma, Lin Xianing put away the hairdryer and took her temperature once more.

“The fever’s starting to break,” Lin Xianing said, her tense heart easing a bit.

She patted Le Yiqiu’s shoulder. “Go sleep in the bed.”

“Mm~” Le Yiqiu let out a lazy hum, rising with the help of Lin Xianing’s pull.

Lin Xianing held her hand and led her to the bedside before tucking her in. Then she went around to the other side and lay down herself.

Everything felt so natural—no more of the earlier push-and-pull. It was as if they were meant to sleep together.

All day long, Le Yiqiu either slept or zoned out, just like a little kid.

A mere fever probably wouldn’t have left her like this. Over the past month-plus, she had been working nonstop without rest, so she was bound to be a bit out of it.

Lin Xianing, in the thick of her career ascent, often crammed two days’ work into one. When she finally stopped, she entered this mode too—blanking her mind at home like a robot, eating, sleeping, playing, using not a single brain cell.

A day or two of that, and she bounced back.

Le Yiqiu’s symptoms were amplified by the fever, making it worse.

Lin Xianing patted her arm affectionately. “Time for bed.”

After some dawdling, the two of them finally climbed into bed at eleven—early for them.

Lin Xianing set an alarm for two a.m., with the forehead thermometer on the nightstand. She planned to monitor Le Yiqiu’s temperature overnight.

Le Yiqiu had slept all day, but discomfort kept her tossing until she drifted off on the bed.

In the middle of the night, the alarm roused her faintly. She sensed the person beside her switching on the nightlight, fumbling for something, followed by the beep of the thermometer.

Once the other woman had checked her temperature and let out a relieved breath, she lay back down to sleep. The fever must have broken.

At that moment, Le Yiqiu’s wandering mind finally caught up. She opened her eyes to the dim room and recalled her dopey antics from the day. She had lost all face.

More than embarrassed, her vacant, foolish image might stick with Lin Xianing forever.

From now on, she’d be nothing but a ditz and a fool in her eyes.

Le Yiqiu squeezed her eyes shut, trying to escape the thought. At least it was nighttime, in bed—she could fool herself for a little while.

Tossed by that awkward, shy mood, it took her about an hour to fall back asleep.

In all likelihood, it was because she had slept so much during the day; now fully recovered and alert at night, she suffered a bout of brief insomnia.

In truth, across twenty-four hours, she had been awake for maybe four. She had slept plenty and made up for her recent all-nighters.

Early the next morning, refreshed from ample sleep, Le Yiqiu stared blankly at the ceiling.

Having overslept the day before, she woke early—before six. Lin Xianing still slumbered beside her.

She rolled onto her side and gazed at Lin Xianing’s sleeping face for a while, lost in thought.

They hadn’t managed their talk yesterday, but today she felt better. They should chat. The trouble was, she had no idea where to start.

Her mind replayed Lin Xianing caring for her yesterday. The fluttering in her heart was impossible to ignore.

Her liking for Lin Xianing had begun with a spark of attraction to her looks and vibe—the perfect match for her ideal type. But it deepened with each interaction, as she came to know Lin Xianing the person. What started as heart-pounding excitement had snowballed into full-blown infatuation.

Le Yiqiu turned over, her eyes settling on Lin Xianing’s beautiful face.

She used to think that liking someone meant simply feeling happy around them. Now, she understood it more deeply: real affection brought both pain and sweetness. Happiness alone somehow felt less authentic.

She reached out and tugged the blanket up higher for Lin Xianing.

Sensing the movement, Lin Xianing’s lashes fluttered. She slowly opened her eyes and turned to find Le Yiqiu staring right at her.

“You’re awake?”

Lin Xianing stretched slightly, her languid body waking up a bit.

She lay flat on her back, avoiding Le Yiqiu’s gaze.

They lay there shoulder to shoulder for a moment before Lin Xianing reached for the thermometer and handed it to Le Yiqiu.

Le Yiqiu took her own temperature—it had fully subsided. She held the device out for Lin Xianing to see.

Relieved there was no relapse, Lin Xianing set her mind at ease and spoke first. “About that day… I’m sorry.”

She hadn’t wanted her emotions to burden Le Yiqiu, but alcohol had eroded her control.

Once wasn’t the end; there would be a second time. The thoughts bubbling inside her would erupt someday.

They needed to talk, no matter the outcome. It beat an explosive fallout followed by the cold war.

Le Yiqiu shook her head, lacing her fingers behind her head. “I think I know what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not sure what I was like before losing my memory. Maybe you knew me so well that it sparked these fears.”

“What if I recover my memories and turn back into the old me?”

“The old me must have been pretty awful, right? Otherwise, why wouldn’t you trust this amnesiac version?”

She figured Lin Xianing’s worries stemmed from whatever twenty-eight-year-old Le Yiqiu had done.

“No…” Lin Xianing denied it quickly. “You were great. But some things aren’t black-and-white, good or bad.”

“Then can you tell me what I was like before the amnesia?”

That was Le Yiqiu’s true goal: to understand how she appeared in Lin Xianing’s eyes.

If Lin Xianing wouldn’t delve into their history, surely she could share her impression of Le Yiqiu as a person.

What had pre-amnesia Le Yiqiu been like?

Lin Xianing thought back to the Le Yiqiu of old, a smile tugging at her lips.

“You? In my memory, you were sunny and outgoing, gentle with everyone—kind, brave. There was nothing you couldn’t do.”

“You wanted to play tennis? You ended up beating even the coach.”

“You wanted to direct? You made Solitary City Apotheosis.”

“From what I know, anything you set your mind to, you succeeded at.”

“Then later…”

Lin Xianing trailed off into silence. The later Le Yiqiu—she didn’t know how to describe her, or even what had caused the change.

“In any case, you were a wonderful person, forever basking in the sunlight, warm enough to draw people near.”

An image flashed in Lin Xianing’s mind: Le Yiqiu slinging her tennis racket over her shoulder, laughing boisterously with classmates, full of youthful vigor.

Even after Le Yiqiu’s personality turned reclusive, she remained gentle. Whenever Lin Xianing wanted something or made a request, Le Yiqiu never refused.

Anything Lin Xianing hadn’t brought up herself—the Lin Family’s intrusions—Le Yiqiu handled, sparing her a lot of hassle.

The disappearance of Le Yiqiu’s smiles hadn’t stripped her of that warmth and responsibility.