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It felt incredibly bizarre to wake up after making their peace with never being able to do so again.
The line of work that Cao Chunhua has chosen within Lin Yuan Pavilion came with plenty of risks and no small amount of danger; their physical disguises had to be absolutely perfect, maintained in mint condition for weeks, months at a time; the acts and airs they put on could not afford to have any weak spots lest they betray themself as a spy; even their grasp of each foreign language they have ever learnt needed to be proficient enough for them to even dream in it. Every mission required constant awareness, with no time to truly relax, and Cao Chunhua thrived in such an environment. They found ways to make it work as best as they could, the built-up experience making each new endeavor slightly easier than the last.
Lack of failure has made Cao Chunhua incredibly confident. They were never arrogant about their never-ending successes, however, sobered up by the knowledge that a single slip-up could ruin not only them, but also any plans spun by Lin Yuan Pavilion. Their sense of responsibility was quite strong, despite the easy-going and flighty airs they tended to put on around others. Endangering the lives of their partners this way was out of the question. Any failure that they had to bear, if ever, they will make sure to deal with themself without dragging down anyone else.
Cao Chunhua pondered this as they helplessly watched the blood gush out of the wound on their chest, staining the ground dark in the dying light of the early evening. The smell of rust was overpowering the delicate scent of the freshly-grown spring grass, bringing with it a wave of nausea that Cao Chunhua stubbornly swallowed down.
They barely had time to lament the wasted rest of their life, the future years that they will never be able to see. They only wished to have someone here to send them off, say a few kind words to them before they closed their eyes for good, but they had to make do with what they had. The setting sun, the faint sound of crickets, and a bee curiously flying closer to observe the human’s blood-stained, lightly twitching hand. It landed on one of their nails.
The ticklish sensation of the insect crawling on their finger was the last thing Cao Chunhua remembered. The rest turned to darkness.
• •
After giving in like this, when they managed to regain consciousness an undetermined amount of time later, they simply did not believe it. It felt too surreal, enough that in the first few moments of awareness, Cao Chunhua assumed that this was how afterlife began. It took them great effort to force their eyes open, and assess their very mundane, very un-afterlife-like, surroundings.
They finally noticed the warmth wrapped around their entire body, in the form of miscellaneous blankets of varying thickness, and a small heater working quietly on the side of the bed, blowing hot air on their legs. There were bandages applied to their aching chest and shoulder, the pain faint as though they were experiencing it through a buffer.
Cao Chunhua had no choice but to come to terms with the fact that they were still, miraculously, breathing.
Currently they were only half-conscious, their blinks long and languid as they studied the interior without much interest. They had no strength in them to wonder about the exact location of this room, vaguely familiar in its hazy outlines in the evening shadows slipping through the window. Content with listening to the sparse chatter of birds outside, laying limp as a child’s doll, they tolerated the pinpricks of pain that finally woke up alongside them and scattered themselves all over their chest and shoulder. It was not too bad yet, they could still ignore it.
Cao Chunhua was a bit curious if anyone would stop by the room to check on them, — someone had to bandage the injuries, after all. In the end, no one came, and the natural quiet lulled them to sleep again.
They faded in and out of consciousness for a while. The mysterious person they never caught sight of appeared from time to time, but never when they were aware enough to open their eyes, or even feel much of what was happening. Sometimes they were moved around, given something to drink; other times the blankets were rearranged around them, wounds exposed and covered over again. Soft voices floated around the room and over the bed, but Cao Chunhua was too hazy-minded to decipher them.
• •
The next time they managed to wake up, Cao Chunhua felt slightly better. They fully accepted the fact that they were still alive with a tentative happiness that they did not dwell on, as if afraid that the wounds will sense it and give them more trouble than they already did. Their head no longer spun when they tried to turn it, but the pain was stronger than before and was steadily increasing in sharpness.
Unwilling to move and risk disturbing the injuries into more distress, they opted for motionlessly staring at the ceiling with empty eyes. The painful pinpricks felt more like small insect bites now, and Cao Chunhua gritted their teeth, annoyed by the pain more than anything else, yet unable to do anything about it.
After a short while, the doors were carefully slid open and closed again. The sound was quiet enough to not disturb Cao Chunhua, who fell into a light doze and only barely perceived it, their head slipping off the pillow in favour of the comfortable texture of the blankets.
The person’s movements were full of practiced ease that signified just how many times they have done this exact routine before. They made sure the blankets covered Cao Chunhua’s feet, checked over the heater, briefly rummaged around the room. After this bit of housekeeping, the person sat down at their bedside and easily hoisted Cao Chunhua a little more upright, leaning them against their body. The motion brought a spike of pain with it, and Cao Chunhua frowned sleepily, unhappy with the disruption of their rest. It got worse when the person proceeded to pour a vile-tasting liquid in Cao Chunhua’s mouth without any ceremony.
Cao Chunhua couldn’t hold back and coughed so hard tears came out of their eyes. The bowl at their lips vanished immediately, and as soon as their movements were no longer restricted, they rolled to the side and coughed bitterly.
“Wh —” What the hell is in this? How were they able to stomach this beforehand without noticing such a taste? Their voice was too hoarse and disobedient from lack of recent use, so they could not express any of their grievances through words. They only wheezed quietly for some time while a large, warm hand rubbed their arm reassuringly, careful to avoid the cut-up shoulder.
“You’re fine, you’re fine,” the voice above them kept repeating. “Just breathe. It’s alright.”
It was not alright, but Cao Chunhua was too busy coughing miserably to offer any rebuttal, curled in on themself like a shrimp. After the fit passed they finally, carefully, turned around to give the offender a wronged, teary-eyed glare.
Ge Chen stared back at them guiltily, a bowl of medicine still held in one hand.
The audacity, the betrayal, the — of all people to subject them to this, it had to be their closest childhood friend. The rational part of Cao Chunhua’s brain was not surprised by this turn of events in the slightest, — after all, they could not think of anyone else who would willingly take care of them like this. The petty part of their brain, on the other hand, had them turn back around and cough a few more times.
“I’m sorry, it’s my fault,” Ge Chen babbled, his words tinted with genuine remorse. “I did not realise you woke up… how do you feel?”
Cao Chunhua groaned quietly in response.
“I see.” Ge Chen nodded to himself, then tapped their arm, the touch so light that Cao Chunhua barely felt it through the blanket. “Erm… xiao-Cao? You still need to drink the rest.”
Sighing, Cao Chunhua resigned themself to their fate and tried to sit upright. The movement was enough to send several sharp spikes of pain through their chest and up their shoulder, so intense that their vision went dark for a moment. They gasped, hand flying up to clutch at the front of their under-robes.
“Careful, careful,” Ge Chen muttered soothingly. He effortlessly wielded the medicine bowl in one hand without spilling a single drop while he scooped up Cao Chunhua enough to lean them against his side again; they gratefully sank all their weight against him, catching their breath.
Ge Chen was kind enough to wait until Cao Chunhua’s breathing evened out before offering them the medicine again.
“The faster you drink this, the faster it will be over,” he said very reasonably. Cao Chunhua weakly rolled their eyes and loosely gripped the sides of the bowl, with Ge Chen’s support, and obediently swallowed down the rest of the liquid. They briefly wondered if medicinal concoctions like these have always had such an unsavoury taste, or if they were simply unused to it after many years of having nothing to do with it.
Ge Chen took away the bowl and gently eased Cao Chunhua down into a laying position again. They braced themself for another strong shot of pain, but thankfully, it never came.
The usual routine taken care of, Ge Chen made to get up, but paused when he felt Cao Chunhua grasp his sleeve. He gave them a questioning look.
Their throat still felt too scratchy to speak properly. They tried to form several questions at once, — Where and how did you find me? How long have I been here? Who knows that I’m here? Has anyone come looking for me?
The only thing Cao Chunhua managed to squeeze out was a hoarse “How?”
“How…?” Ge Chen echoed thoughtfully. “How you were hurt? I do not know what happened exactly, but the healer who looked you over earlier said it was all blade-inflicted wounds and some bruising. No broken bones or anything, no serious internal damage either, thankfully.” He was clearly trying his best to guess at what Cao Chunhua wanted to hear about. “Your body was in very poor condition when you were found, you gave Master Zhang Feng Han a fright — he was the one who ran into you. Well, one of his dogs did, to be more exact.”
Cao Chunhua blinked slowly, trying to process the barrage of information delivered to them all at once. Eventually, they frowned slightly. “…dogs?”
“One of them,” Ge Chen repeated patiently. “He took them to the outskirts of the Capital to run around and, well. There you were.” He suddenly clicked his tongue and pressed his hand against their forehead; Cao Chunhua instinctively leaned into his palm. “Eh, you have a fever again …”
There was palpable worry in his voice. Cao Chunhua, however, was too busy clinging to consciousness long enough to think about what they were being told, without much success. “Dog,” they whispered, barely audible, as if they have never heard the word before.
“Yes, dog,” Ge Chen nodded, looking a little unnerved. “I can ask Master Zhang Feng Han to show you that very dog, alright? As soon as you feel better.” He paused for a moment. “Please get better,” he added, voice small.
“Mn,” Cao Chunhua mumbled. They could hardly process much right now; in the back of their foggy mind, they hazily wondered if the medicine they were just given contained any sleeping drug additives.
“Ah, I also… sent out a wooden bird or two,” Ge Chen said, much more quietly this time. Cao Chunhua strained to hear him, and pulled on his sleeve to bring him closer. He obeyed. “My notes were very vague, but they should be able to understand the gist of it if what happened to you affects anything with, well. You know. Both of the birds were already sent back, so there is nothing for you to worry about when it comes to that.”
Later, Cao Chunhua will deeply appreciate Ge Chen taking care of this vital loose end for them, in a manner that ended up being quite discreet and brought no further trouble. In the moment, however, their head felt like it was full of clouds, eyelids slipping shut against their will.
“Do you need anything?” Ge Chen asked softly. “There’s water here, you’re probably thirsty…”
The mere thought of having to swallow anything else made Cao Chunhua’s still-raw throat pulse with more pain. They made an effort to shake their head.
“Alright, later then.” Ge Chen said, brushing a strand of hair away from their forehead. “Rest well, xiao-Cao.”
They were asleep before Ge Chen even left the room.
• •
As Cao Chunhua slowly regained their full awareness, the pain that used to be a hazy echo of itself grew alongside it. Every single pain receptor was working well indeed, to the point where the discomfort sometimes became strong enough to disrupt their sleep; this time, their nap was cut short by chest pain so sharp they nearly started crying. Ge Chen, who was busy fiddling with something on the low table next to the bed, looked up in alarm when he heard a loud sniff.
“I’m just about to change the bandages,” he said as he fretted about settling Cao Chunhua down comfortably. They blinked the tears out of their eyes and allowed Ge Chen to move them about with no complaint; they could not help a small shiver when the warm layers of the blankets and upper robe were taken away.
Ge Chen carefully removed the old bandages from their chest and shoulder, face going a shade paler when he saw fresh blood. Cao Chunhua watched him through half-lidded eyes, feeling like a third-party observer looking at another person’s body, even though the consistent pain kept reminding them that it was very much their own.
“Some stitches tore again,” Ge Chen muttered, mostly to himself. “How do you manage to do that?”
Cao Chunhua exhaled roughly as soon as a wet cloth made contact with the bleeding chest wound. “Again?” they questioned, voice quiet and raspy. Ge Chen did not acknowledge the question at first, concentrated entirely on cleaning out the cut with careful, quick movements. Once that was over with, he finally looked up.
“You’ve torn a few of them before, but the damage hasn’t been too bad.” He then frowned. “Still, stop doing that.”
All Cao Chunhua could do in response was make a vague noise. If they could figure out a way to control such a thing in their sleep, they would certainly do it.
Ge Chen made quick work of the whole ordeal, clearly having done this numerous times before. Cao Chunhua watched him with vague interest, frowning thoughtfully as they tried to gauge the severity of the wounds based on his reactions alone. The injuries were clearly severe, but they did not seem to be life-threatening at this point, or else their friend would have looked much more concerned; he tended to not hide his emotions, making him very easy to read.
“It’s healing nicely,” Ge Chen said, sitting back and wiping off his hands. “Don’t worry about anything, just rest. I will bring you the medicine in a bit, alright?”
“Again?” Cao Chunhua said, more petulantly this time.
“You need to drink it two times a day,” Ge Chen said apologetically. Cao Chunhua pursed their lips and tried to muster up a pleading expression, even though they were certain their current sickly face looked nowhere near as cute as they needed it to.
“Two? You sure?” they asked miserably.
“It used to be three,” Ge Chen matched their miserable tone. “I don’t want to do this to you, either.”
Cao Chunhua sighed quietly and closed their eyes, having no energy to bargain. “Got it.” They cleared their throat, chasing the rasp out of their voice. “Can you… the heater. Make it warmer?”
“Of course.” Ge Chen offered them a kind smile and began tinkering with the small contraption on the side of the bed. Cao Chunhua lolled their head to the side, staring towards the window with half-lidded eyes. A small buzzing insect landed on the edge of the window-frame.
• •
Cao Chunhua’s slumber continued to be fitful. The next time they woke up, they were surprised to find Ge Chen asleep next to them, sprawled on the floor with his head resting on folded arms at the side of the bed. At a loss for what to do, they gave in to their immediate instinct and poked his cheek. This did not yield any results, but they poked him a few more times purely for entertainment.
After that point, they just laid there while looking at him thoughtfully; he must have been exhausted, to have fallen asleep here and in such a position.
Prior to ending up in this situation, they have seen him a few months ago during a casual visit to Ling Shu Institute. He has not changed much since then; except for more prominent circles under his eyes, and a fresh scar on his knuckles that they haven’t seen before, he looked exactly like he always did.
A few hairs separated from Ge Chen’s fringe and slipped down to tickle the tip of his nose, but that was not enough to rouse him, either. He simply wrinkled his nose and burrowed his head further into the cradle of his arms. A little endeared, Cao Chunhua reached out and graciously brushed the hair away for him.
Eventually, Ge Chen sluggishly woke up. He raised his head, disoriented, blearily stared at Cao Chunhua who wordlessly stared back, then turned to assess his position. His neck audibly cracked as he stretched it.
“I did not expect to wake up to a man sleeping at my bedside,” Cao Chunhua said slyly, rasp mostly gone from their voice. “What am I supposed to think, hm?”
“I didn’t mean to,” Ge Chen yawned until he was teary-eyed. “You seemed restless earlier so I decided to wait and see… well, I guess you were just dreaming.”
“Thank you for guarding my dreams, a-Chen,” Cao Chunhua said in a syrupy-sweet voice, unwilling to let an opportunity to tease pass. As intended, Ge Chen scoffed and averted his eyes, cheeks going a bit pink.
“Right, well…” he mumbled uncertainly. “Um, how do you feel?”
“Not dead.” Cao Chunhua put as much cheer into their voice as they could muster. “It could be worse.”
“So… not great?” Ge Chen interpreted. Cao Chunhua sighed quietly and nodded.
Another routine of removing old bandages, cleaning around the wounds, more salve, more fresh bandages. Cao Chunhua hasn’t felt this helpless in a long time, lying around uselessly while they were turned and rearranged this way and that. Their mood, however, was pretty good. It was no secret that they enjoyed being coddled and taken care of, and it did not happen nearly as much as they would have liked. They were intending to savour at least some of this, even if they had to tolerate the pains and aches that came with the injuries.
“You seem to have a lot of free time to play healer with me,” Cao Chunhua said casually as Ge Chen tied off the bandage on their shoulder.
Ge Chen hummed noncommittally.
“So generous, where would I be without you?” Cao Chunhua pressed on with a lopsided smile. They lightly massaged a little above the wrappings on their chest to try and trick the smarting chest wound into quieting down; unfortunately, it was not working too well. “I do wonder how you manage to handle both this and your usual duties.”
For some unknown reason, Ge Chen looked rather flustered. “Master Zhang Feng Han was very understanding when I explained the situation,” he said vaguely.
“Oh, are you sure?” Cao Chunhua sniffed. “Will he not bear a grudge against me for keeping away his most prized disciple so often?”
“You know he will not,” Ge Chen said, exasperated.
“How fortunate,” Cao Chunhua said teasingly. “Now I can only hope that you will not tire of me and pass me on to someone else.”
Ge Chen scratched his head. “To who? Doctor Chen is not in the Capital right now, and I don’t trus— erm, I don’t know of anyone else I would want to ask. Unless you would rather have our usual Ling Shu Institute healer do everything?”
“Hmm, that depends.” Cao Chunhua gave him a playful smile. “Is he handsome?”
“He is fifty years old,” Ge Chen said flatly.
“Ah, but that doesn’t answer my question.” Cao Chunhua’s smile became wider.
“He also has a wife and children,” Ge Chen added.
“Well then, that can’t be helped,” Cao Chunhua sighed. “I am afraid I will have to continue troubling you, lao-Ge.”
Ge Chen rolled his eyes.
• •
The nights were the most difficult to bear. The medicine, as awful as it tasted, worked very well when it came to extending the amount of time when Cao Chunhua could rest, working together with the soothing salve applied under the bandages, but it was not enough to last through the entire night. They became used to sleeping for a few hours at a time, then being shocked awake due to pain.
In the dark, Cao Chunhua cocooned themself into the blankets and dejectedly stared in the direction of the window, waiting for the dull ache to inevitably turn into sharp pain. When it came to that, they will have to wait it out and depend on their exhausted body to give in to fatigue and lose consciousness.
The bitter medicinal aftertaste still lingered in their mouth, and it bothered them into wearily sitting up and scooting closer to the edge of the bed. The low table was moved much closer from its original spot in the centre of the room for the sake of convenience, and Cao Chunhua should have had no problem with reaching over and picking up one of the generously pre-filled water bowls. However, they misjudged the strength of their grip, and the bowl fell to the floor with a loud clatter.
The sound was sharp enough in the dark stillness to make Cao Chunhua wince, succeeding in both irritating their injuries and making them feel absolutely wretched. They bonelessly slumped back on the bed and curled up into a sad shrimp, blankets pulled up over their head.
The noise woke up Ge Chen; in a few moments, he slid open the doors and peeked into the room. “Is everything alright?”
Cao Chunhua contemplated feigning sleep, but the thought fell apart into dust when the wound on their shoulder pulsed with more pain. They couldn’t help but hiss, clutching it.
“What’s wrong?” Ge Chen’s voice sounded much closer now; he was clearly worried. “Where does it hurt?”
Cao Chunhua sniffed miserably.
“Everywhere hurts,” they complained. It was like a dam suddenly broke and flooded over. “I can’t find a position in which it won’t, and I can’t sleep because of it. I can still taste that concoction that I keep having to drink. And,” they poked their head out of the blankets to give the remains of the fallen bowl on the ground a malicious glare. “I can’t even get a sip of water.”
Cao Chunhua took a deep breath and fell silent, squeezing their eyes shut. Pouring all their current grievances out did make them feel a little lighter, but unfortunately it did nothing to alleviate the physical pain.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Ge Chen mumbled, walking over and picking up another bowl to hand off to Cao Chunhua. He rubbed his eyes sleepily. “There might be some sweets around to help with the taste… I can go look for you?”
“I don’t want it,” Cao Chunhua pouted. They drained the water so quickly they felt vaguely nauseous, and burrowed back into the blankets.
“Okay,” Ge Chen nodded slowly, half-asleep. “I can make the heater warmer, if that will make it better?”
“I’m warm enough already,” Cao Chunhua grumbled.
“Well, erm…” the man looked around the room uncertainly, the gears in his brain turning sluggishly. “Will incense help you sleep?”
“No,” Cao Chunhua said categorically.
“Then…” Ge Chen paused, at a complete loss. “Xiao-Cao, what do you want?”
He sounded so genuinely distressed that Cao Chunhua began to feel a little guilty. They expected him to simply nod along and take their complaints in stride, like he usually did whenever they were being unnecessarily dramatic about something. It turned out that they vastly underestimated the effect that their situation had on their friend.
Cao Chunhua sighed quietly. “Never mind, I’m just being difficult for the sake of it.” They carefully rearranged themself into a different position, a pained noise escaping them when the motion pulled at the wound on their shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll try to sleep now.”
It was as though Ge Chen did not hear their words at all. He slowly moved closer and sat down at their bedside, hands hovering for a while before he neatly folded them on his lap.
“It’s very painful, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.
“Not as much right now,” Cao Chunhua muttered, already feeling regretful about their small outburst. “I just wanted to complain a little.”
“You can complain more, if you like,” Ge Chen suggested. “I’ll listen.”
“No, I’ve said enough for now.” Cao Chunhua pulled the blanket up to their nose, grateful that the cover of darkness allowed them to avoid eye contact. “I am fine, really.”
For a while, Ge Chen was so perfectly silent that Cao Chunhua began to think that he had fallen asleep sitting up like this.
“For a while, you really weren’t fine,” he said suddenly. His hand wandered over to smooth over the bunched up blankets at Cao Chunhua’s waist, his touch gentle. “The healer had nothing hopeful to say when he first looked you over.”
Cao Chunhua made an effort to sink further under the blankets, their face heating up for a reason they could not quite process. Their chest felt tight in a manner that had nothing to do with the physical injuries. For the first time in a while, they were faced with the fact that there will be people, especially this particular person, who would be distraught over their passing.
“Lucky that I made it, then,” they tried to keep their tone light, but their voice shook a little at the end. “I can’t be killed this easily. What kind of professional would I be, if I was?”
Ge Chen had no response, even the sound of his breathing drowned out by Cao Chunhua’s own, much raspier one. Moments crawled by slowly, accompanied by the chirping of the night crickets outside. After a while, they felt him find their hand and scoop it out from under the blanket, envelop in his own to give it a reassuring squeeze.
He had no words left, but this was more than enough. Cao Chunhua finally relaxed, realising how much tension their body was holding on to this whole time. Ge Chen’s hand was comfortingly warm.
Eventually he slipped their hand back under the blanket.
“You really aren’t cold?” Ge Chen asked, reluctant to leave unless he did something useful.
“No, no.” Cao Chunhua squinted in the dark to try and decipher his facial expression, to no avail. “Go sleep, you’re clearly tired.”
“Alright,” Ge Chen said, but did not move. “Are you sure you don’t need anything? I am just in the next room, but …”
“You seem unwilling to leave,” Cao Chunhua smirked, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere. “If I scoot over, there will be room for you to sleep next to me.”
“Good night,” Ge Chen said forcefully, all kind intentions gone, and fled out of the room. Cao Chunhua giggled quietly despite the spike of pain in their chest.
• •
Cao Chunhua may have moodily declined the offer of sweets, but their words were not taken at all seriously. The next time Ge Chen brought the dreaded serving of medicine, he carried with him a few pieces of candy that he conspicuously placed next to Cao Chunhua’s pillow while they were sullenly drinking from the bowl. He then pretended that he had nothing to do with it, ignoring their pointed looks and raised eyebrow.
“Did you seriously bring me sweets?” Cao Chunhua tried their best to look disinterested. “I’m not a child, you know.”
Ge Chen looked them directly in the eyes. “What sweets? Finish your medicine.”
The sheer audacity of the response was enough for Cao Chunhua to obediently swallow down the rest of the liquid without tasting much of it. Only after Ge Chen’s departure did the ugly aftertaste crawl up their throat and onto their tongue.
Cao Chunhua had no intention of acknowledging the offering laying by the pillow, and turned their back to it, rearranging the blankets for a comfortable nap. Their stubborn pride, however, ended up weakening into nothingness as they tried, and failed, to drift off to sleep with the bitter taste still resting in the back of their throat. Defeated, they reached a hand out of their blanket nest and scooped up all the candy at once.
The sweet taste did alleviate the bitterness somewhat, putting them in a better mood against their will. Cao Chunhua had to admit to themself while chewing that they were as easy to pacify as a young child, and that Ge Chen will inevitably laugh at them when he realised it.
When the evening medicine was served, Ge Chen brought along a bit of honey. Cao Chunhua had no more steam left in them to pretend that the extra care was too unnecessary for them to accept, and gratefully received the little cup. Ge Chen did laugh at them, soundlessly, only when he thought they weren’t looking.
• •
“This is too odd,” Ge Chen said finally, after yet another round of changing the bandages. He stared at Cao Chunhua very attentively, as though he was trying to read their thoughts. “I haven’t heard a single complaint from you in several days. Something isn’t right.”
“I am being a perfect patient,” Cao Chunhua replied cheerily, slipping their under-robe back over their torso and settling down under their haphazardly piled-up blankets.
“That’s the strange part,” Ge Chen grumbled, and reached out to feel their forehead. They playfully nuzzled at his hand like an affectionate cat, but he was too surprised by the fact that their temperature was perfectly normal to perceive it. He checked their neck for good measure, as well, but it was also fine.
“You wound me,” Cao Chunhua huffed, craning their neck away to avoid the ticklish spot under their jaw. “I simply don’t want to make things difficult for you any more than I already have.”
“Who are you,” Ge Chen muttered in disbelief. He took away his hand and stared in contemplation at Cao Chunhua, who was looking up at him innocently, eyes almost comically wide. The staring contest continued until Cao Chunhua pouted their lips and lightly blew at Ge Chen’s face, stirring his fringe; caught off guard, he leaned away and broke eye contact.
“I do not see the issue,” Cao Chunhua said, still pouting. “Do you want me to whine? I thought you would be happier if I troubled you much less.”
“You’re not troubling me,” Ge Chen said quickly. “You’re never trouble. Xiao-Cao…” He mulled over his words for a while, but could not come up with anything to say afterward, instead opting for staring at Cao Chunhua intently. Any longer, and the man might overthink himself into telepathy.
“Hm?” Cao Chunhua looked at him very attentively in return, watching his face curiously turn a shade more pink. “I think I know what’s going on here.”
Ge Chen looked alarmed. “W-what?”
They smiled as they leaned in closer and fluttered their lashes, their voice soft and smooth as honey. “Could it be that I’m just too irresistible when I am bedridden and so helpless?”
Ge Chen stared at them silently for a few moments, then expressionlessly pulled several blankets over their face. Cao Chunhua went down with an undignified squeak and tried to pry them off. “Never mind. All of the trouble in my life comes from you, you are the source of all my woes, you —”
“You can’t treat me like this!” Cao Chunhua sputtered, managing to poke their head out of the blanket pile after some effort. “I am injured and hurting, how can you be so awful to me, a patient!”
“Easily,” Ge Chen grumbled, but stopped messing around. His hand rested limply on Cao Chunhua’s chest, carefully situated above the injury; they wondered if he could feel their quick heartbeat through the layers of fabric. “If you have this much energy to talk nonsense, then you have enough to stomach the medicine.”
Cao Chunhua reflexively made a face at the mention of it. “Can I bribe you to skip it this one time?”
Ge Chen actually wavered for a bit; he was clearly just as reluctant to serve it to Cao Chunhua as they were to drink it. “Do you want to get better or not?” He finally asked.
“At this cost?” Cao Chunhua hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know…”
“Well, I want you to.” Ge Chen steeled his resolve and got up. “This won’t take long.”
Cao Chunhua stuck their tongue out at his back as he walked out.
• •
Once the healing process reaches a certain milestone, the improvements become exponential from that point onward. Only a few days later, Cao Chunhua was able to get up and walk around for a bit with Ge Chen hovering nearby, ready to catch them if they stumbled; several days later, they were able to fully change their own bandages without any help. A week later, they were given personal permission from the visiting Ling Shu Institute healer to remove them entirely.
Cao Chunhua was ordered to be extremely careful. The wounds may have been covered over with new skin, but it was still fresh and more fragile than it should be, possible to damage in a moment of carelessness. As much as Cao Chunhua was enjoying being treated like a precious, breakable vase, they were also tired of carrying injury on their body. They promised to obey the instructions without complaint.
“Your recovery is going incredibly well,” the Ling Shu healer praised them, handing them off a written note covered in recipes for various supplements. “You will have nothing to worry about soon.”
“It’s all thanks to you, daifu,” Cao Chunhua said sweetly. “The taste of your medicine inspired me to heal much faster than I would have otherwise.”
The old man threw back his head and laughed. “Then I consider my job to be well done here!”
The man kept the conversation strictly on subject and did not ask too many questions. Cao Chunhua was incredibly grateful for it.
Once he was certain that Cao Chunhua will not fall apart at the seams if left alone, Ge Chen ran off to Ling Shu Institute to catch up on all of the work that he missed recently, leaving Cao Chunhua with the realisation that the fool really did take extensive time away from his beloved projects to do nothing but tend to them. It felt a little ridiculous, — no one forced Ge Chen to look after them constantly, — but they had to admit that it was incredibly sweet.
Cao Chunhua did not notice the corners of their lips slowly inching up into a shy smile. They were too busy wandering off to look for books that they could flip through while they had the endless free time.
In the late evening, Ge Chen came back all dusty and worn out, a few diagrams tucked into his belt and an unlabeled wooden box in his hands. Cao Chunhua was already settling down for an early sleep, so they only quickly threw on an outer robe over their sleeping clothes and slipped out to meet him. He looked surprised to see them.
“What are you doing out and about? Go sleep,” he tried to wave them off.
“I have gotten more sleep in the past few weeks than I have in my entire lifetime,” Cao Chunhua said and neatly sat down at the low table, reaching for the teapot. “At least let me pour you some tea.”
“No-no, wait,” Ge Chen nearly dropped his diagrams as he flew over to intercept them. “You’re still recovering, how can I make you pour tea? Let me.”
“My condition already improved so much, I won’t break from handling a tea set,” Cao Chunhua protested, but the pot was mercilessly taken out of their hands. They surrendered with no fight, sitting back with their chin propped up on their hand, watching Ge Chen pour tea with so much concentration, one would have thought he was doing it for his master instead of his silly childhood friend.
He looked up, mouth already half-forming a word when he noticed something and quickly shut it, then reached out to pull the folds of Cao Chunhua’s sleeping robes higher, covering their collarbones completely.
“Oh?” Cao Chunhua looked down.
Ge Chen swiftly pulled his hands away, as though burnt. “You will get cold,” he justified, decidedly avoiding eye contact. “The last thing you need is to fall sick after an injury.”
“My body is not that weak… ah, that reminds me!” Cao Chunhua sat up straighter. “I owe you a favour for all this, so let me know when I can repay it, hm?”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Ge Chen frowned, handing them a cup of lukewarm tea. “If we are going to sort out favours, I am the one repaying for last time.”
Cao Chunhua blinked a few times, confused, before finally realising what he was referring to. They could not help rolling their eyes. “Aiyah, really? So much time passed since then, and all I did was keep you company a little bit while you were sick with exhaustion, it hardly equals to what you’ve done for me now.”
“You still came back every day.” Ge Chen forgot to fill his own teacup, and was now absentmindedly rolling it around on the table with his eyes lowered. “Back then, you just recently came back from years of travel and should have been resting, but instead you spent all that time on me.”
“It really wasn’t the burden that you are trying to make it out to be,” Cao Chunhua parried. “I had the time and willingness to do it, so I did. It was nothing more than being a good friend.”
Ge Chen quickly caught his cup before it rolled off the table. “Quite a good friendship, when you treat an ill friend like you would a family member.”
“Well… yes.” Cao Chunhua could not understand what Ge Chen was getting at. “If that isn’t the case, what were you doing these past few weeks?”
Ge Chen had nothing to say to that, hiding his eyes behind his fringe.
“What were your intentions then, hm, good friend? Cao Chunhua teased, tilting their head and trying to catch Ge Chen’s eye. “Hey, what are you acting so shy for?”
“Never mind. Xiao-Cao.” Ge Chen finally looked up and leveled them with a stare. “If you really dare to treat this as a favour to be repaid, I will throttle you.”
“No you won’t,” Cao Chunhua said lightly. “You wouldn’t dare, I’m too precious.”
“You still have the energy to be so fearless?” Ge Chen couldn’t help but laugh and, as though he only now remembered the intended purpose of the cup in his hands, poured himself some tea.
“Not at all,” Cao Chunhua grinned and saluted him with their own cup. “It’s just a simple truth of the universe. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Trees lose their leaves in autumn and grow new ones in spring. And you will never actually hurt me.”
“Obviously, I was joking…” Ge Chen looked vaguely embarrassed, and Cao Chunhua could not resist giving his upper arm a reassuring squeeze, smiling indulgently.
“I know you were,” they said. “If you are going to be dramatic then you need to commit to it, not abandon it halfway.”
“Wise words, alright,” Ge Chen mumbled. “Please, just…” he trailed off, hypnotising his teacup. “Just stay safe.”
This man really was shaken by the recent series of events more than even Cao Chunhua themself was. They could not help shaking their head; what were they to do with him? He really had too much room in his heart to worry so deeply about others.
“I do try to,” Cao Chunhua finally said, staring down at Ge Chen’s teacup to figure out what was so fascinating about it that their friend wouldn’t tear his eyes away. “Alas, this time it was simply not enough, despite my best wishes.”
“I know.” Ge Chen’s voice was soft. “But I wanted to say it anyways.”
That, Cao Chunhua understood very well. “Since there is someone so desperately wishing for my safety, how can I take that lightly?” They suddenly leaned forward, snatched Ge Chen’s still-full cup of tea, and drained it in one gulp. It happened so quickly that Ge Chen did not have time to react; his eyes darted from Cao Chunhua’s face down to the cup in their hand, then back again.
“You didn’t seem like you were going to drink it,” Cao Chunhua explained and set it down. “You were looking at it so much, I thought there was something hidden at the bottom of it. Why not look at me instead?”
The corners of Ge Chen’s mouth slowly crawled up. “You haven’t left my sight for days.”
“Yes, but I was grievously injured then and my appearance was awful.” Cao Chunhua lamented. Ge Chen raised an eyebrow, holding back his words. “Now I’m beautiful again, so please look as much as you wish and remember me like this instead.”
To punctuate their words, Cao Chunhua adjusted their outer robe and smoothed down their hair, letting it spill over their shoulders and chest, tinted a warm chestnut colour in the glowing light of the lamp. They tilted their head, showing off their long neck, and offered him a bright grin.
Ge Chen was full-on smiling now, a trace of affection in his eyes. Cao Chunhua was disarmed by such an expression, and noted in their heart that he looked rather charming like this.
“If you insist,” he said.
The two of them did not leave that little table until the first rays of sunlight appeared on the eastern horizon.
• •