Work Text:
You Shulang had known he was sick from approximately the moment he woke at five forty-three in the morning and spent a good half minute lying motionless, staring into the dimness of the bedroom with the very specific, very unpleasant conviction that someone had replaced his throat with a piece of dry sandpaper during the night, poured sand beneath his eyelids, and finally, apparently deciding their handiwork was not quite complete, attached a small weight to every single muscle in his body. It was nothing particularly alarming, however. An ordinary cold. Perhaps the beginning of the flu. Certainly no reason to change his entire schedule for the day, cancel two meetings, postpone a presentation his team had spent the last three weeks preparing, or—worse—inform Fan Xiao that something was wrong.
That last decision was, in his opinion, entirely reasonable.
Very reasonable, in fact.
You Shulang had no difficulty admitting to himself that he loved Fan Xiao. Reaching that admission had taken an appropriately long time, cost him several months of frustration, even more anger, and far too many moments spent looking at the man and wondering whether kissing him or strangling him with his bare hands would bring greater satisfaction, but in the end, the matter had been settled. He loved Fan Xiao. He knew it. Fan Xiao knew it too and, unfortunately, took shameless advantage of that knowledge on a regular basis. Love, however, did not mean that You Shulang had ceased to be aware of all his flaws. Quite the contrary. When you loved someone long enough, their flaws began to acquire sharper outlines, becoming part of the everyday landscape, something as familiar as the creak of a particular stair or the irritating patch of sunlight that slipped through the gap between the curtains every morning.
Fan Xiao was jealous.
Possessive.
Manipulative.
Stubborn.
Dramatic.
And, most importantly at this particular moment, he possessed absolutely no ability to react proportionately to any threat involving You Shulang's health.
Which was why You Shulang made the only sensible decision.
He told him nothing.
The problem was that Fan Xiao was sleeping right beside him.
You Shulang moved slowly, very carefully sliding one leg out from under the duvet, and stopped immediately when the heavy arm resting across his waist tightened reflexively. Fan Xiao was sound asleep, his face partly buried in the pillow and his hair scattered in a way he would never have permitted during the day. Without his meticulously styled hair, without his watch, without that cold gaze that measured the world according to his own scale of usefulness, without the smile whose meaning depended on who happened to be looking at him, he appeared considerably younger. Calmer. Almost innocent.
You Shulang knew better.
He tried again.
Fan Xiao's arm moved with him.
You Shulang narrowed his eyes.
“Fan Xiao.”
No answer.
“Are you asleep?”
“Mhm.”
That was not the answer of a sleeping man.
You Shulang sighed.
“Let me go.”
Without opening his eyes, Fan Xiao shifted closer and nestled his face against the side of You Shulang's neck.
“Too early.”
“I need to get up.”
“No, you don't.”
“I have work.”
“Work isn't going anywhere.”
“Not everyone can simply decide that their company will wait until they graciously get out of bed.”
Fan Xiao moved his lips against his skin, clearly intending to say something as irritating as usual, but then he stopped.
You Shulang felt the moment something changed.
Not in the way he was being held. Not immediately. Rather, in the very quality of the silence, which abruptly ceased to be lazy and sleepy.
Fan Xiao opened his eyes.
“You're hot.”
You Shulang closed his own.
Of course.
“I'm warm.”
“No.”
“We're lying under a duvet.”
“Shulang.”
That tone was already a problem.
You Shulang turned his head and found Fan Xiao looking at him from only a few centimeters away. Sleepiness had vanished from his face so quickly that it might never have been there. The hand that had been wrapped around his waist a moment earlier moved to the back of his neck, then to his forehead, then to his cheek. Fan Xiao's frown deepened with every touch.
“You have a fever.”
“You don't have a thermometer in your hand.”
“I don't need a thermometer.”
“In that case, congratulations on your new medical specialty.”
Fan Xiao was already reaching for his phone.
You Shulang caught his wrist.
“No.”
“No what?”
“You are not calling a doctor.”
Fan Xiao glanced at the hand around his wrist, then at You Shulang's face.
“You have a fever.”
“Maybe.”
“Your throat hurts.”
It wasn't a question.
You Shulang remained silent.
Fan Xiao narrowed his eyes.
“It does.”
“A little.”
“Head?”
“No.”
Fan Xiao stared.
You Shulang sighed.
“A tiny bit.”
“Muscles?”
“Fan Xiao.”
“Do your muscles hurt?”
“You are not conducting a medical examination.”
“I am right now.”
“You're not a doctor.”
“I can find a doctor.”
“No.”
“The best one.”
“Fan Xiao.”
“Two, if I'm not sure about the first.”
You Shulang stared at him in silence.
Fan Xiao stared back.
It was one of those situations in which they both knew perfectly well that neither intended to give in quickly, while both were too stubborn to admit that they already knew exactly how the argument would end.
You Shulang was the first to break eye contact.
“It's a cold.”
“How do you know?”
“Because people catch colds sometimes.”
“You shouldn't.”
“I'm sorry. Next time I'll inform the virus that it doesn't have your permission.”
Fan Xiao didn't smile at all.
That was worrying.
+++
His temperature was thirty-eight point two.
You Shulang considered that a mild fever.
Fan Xiao behaved as though the thermometer had just announced the hour of his death.
“Get back into bed.”
“No.”
“You have a fever.”
“I heard you.”
“Thirty-eight point two.”
“I saw.”
“That isn't a normal temperature.”
“I'm so glad you told me. All my life I thought it was.”
Fan Xiao stood in the middle of the bathroom wearing pajama pants and a black T-shirt, holding the thermometer as carefully as though the little plastic object were evidence in a murder investigation. You Shulang, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, wanted to laugh, but his throat hurt enough to make even the thought of laughing unpleasant, so he settled for a look of gentle resignation.
“I'll take some fever medicine, drink something warm, and go to work.”
Fan Xiao slowly lowered the thermometer.
“You're not going.”
“I have a meeting at nine.”
“Not anymore.”
You Shulang went still.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Why did you say that in the past tense?”
“Because I can predict the future.”
“Fan Xiao.”
“Shulang.”
“You will not contact my company.”
“All right.”
The answer came far too quickly.
You Shulang became suspicious immediately.
“You will not tell anyone else to contact my company either.”
Fan Xiao sighed.
“You really don't leave me any room to maneuver.”
“Because I know you.”
“Hurtful.”
“Effective.”
Fan Xiao put the thermometer on a shelf and, without warning, bent down, slipping one arm beneath You Shulang's knees and the other behind his back.
You Shulang only had time to raise his eyebrows.
“Don't you dare.”
Fan Xiao lifted him.
“Fan Xiao.”
“You said your body hurt.”
“That doesn't mean I can't walk.”
“You don't have to.”
“Put me down.”
“No.”
For a moment, You Shulang considered putting up an actual fight. He could break free. Probably. Fan Xiao was stronger than he looked, but You Shulang wasn't a porcelain figurine, and even with a fever he hadn't lost all physical ability. The problem was that the prospect of wrestling in the bathroom at six in the morning, in pajamas, with a headache pulsing somewhere behind his eyes, suddenly seemed considerably more exhausting than simply allowing Fan Xiao to win.
So he rested his forehead against his shoulder.
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
“You don't sound worried.”
“Because I know you're lying.”
You Shulang closed his eyes.
Unfortunately, Fan Xiao was right.
+++
The first thing Fan Xiao did after settling You Shulang back in bed was close the curtains.
The second was straighten the duvet.
The third was bring him water.
The fourth was find the fever medicine and read the entire instruction leaflet from beginning to end, despite You Shulang informing him three times that he knew the dosage.
The fifth was call a doctor.
“Fan Xiao.”
The man raised a finger, asking him to be quiet, as though You Shulang were the one interrupting a very important conversation.
You Shulang stared at him in disbelief.
Fan Xiao walked over to the window.
“Yes. Thirty-eight point two. Since this morning. Sore throat, headache, aching muscles.”
You Shulang propped himself up on one elbow.
“My head doesn't hurt that much.”
Fan Xiao turned his back.
“No, he isn't coughing badly. Only occasionally.”
“I'm not coughing at all.”
As if fate had been waiting for precisely that moment, You Shulang's throat began to tickle.
One cough escaped him.
Then another.
Fan Xiao turned his head.
Their eyes met.
You Shulang sank back onto his pillow and pressed his lips together.
Traitor.
His own body had betrayed him at the worst possible moment.
“He's just started.”
“Fan Xiao.”
“Yes. We'll keep an eye on it.”
You Shulang closed his eyes.
There was no point.
A few minutes later, Fan Xiao ended the call, returned to the bed, and sat on its edge.
“The doctor says there's no reason to worry for now.”
“An astonishing discovery.”
“If your temperature rises or you develop shortness of breath…”
“I know.”
“…we're supposed to call.”
“I know.”
“You should rest.”
You Shulang opened one eye.
“I had no idea.”
Fan Xiao leaned over him, ignoring the sarcasm, and brushed a few strands of hair away from his damp forehead.
The gesture was too gentle.
You Shulang immediately lost the desire to argue.
That was unfair.
Fan Xiao had many ways of winning arguments. Money. Reasoning. Shamelessness. Persistence. Manipulation. Sometimes simply wearing his opponent down until they decided that agreeing was easier than continuing the conversation.
The worst, however, was tenderness.
You Shulang still hadn't learned how to fight that.
“Sleep.”
“I'm not sleepy.”
“Your eyes are closed.”
“Because I don't want to look at you.”
Fan Xiao smiled.
“I see.”
His hand was still stroking You Shulang's hair.
Slowly.
Rhythmically.
Surprisingly soothingly.
You Shulang intended to say something else.
He never got the chance.
+++
When he opened his eyes again, it was almost ten.
The first thing he saw was Fan Xiao sitting at a small table by the window with his laptop. The man was wearing headphones, speaking softly in Thai, while documents, charts, and the faces of several people attending a video conference moved across the screen. He looked completely normal. Immaculate. Concentration had smoothed his features, and his voice was calm and businesslike. If someone saw him only in that moment, they might imagine Fan Xiao was an exceptionally sensible man.
On the table beside the laptop stood four different bottles of water, a box of tissues, a thermometer, two packages of medicine, a cup of tea, and a bowl of something that looked like rice porridge.
You Shulang stared for a moment.
Then sat up.
Fan Xiao noticed the movement immediately.
He didn't interrupt what he was saying, but his gaze shifted from the screen to the bed. He raised a finger and pointed at the water. You Shulang ignored him.
Fan Xiao narrowed his eyes.
You Shulang reached for his phone.
He didn't even manage to unlock it.
Still talking, Fan Xiao got up, crossed the room, took the phone out of his hand, and placed it on his own side of the bed.
You Shulang stared at him.
Fan Xiao continued speaking as though nothing had happened.
Then he handed him a glass of water.
You Shulang shook his head.
Fan Xiao simply held it out in front of him.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Fifteen.
You Shulang took the glass.
Fan Xiao returned to his meeting.
You Shulang drank the water, watching his back the entire time.
It was irritating.
And a little adorable.
He had no intention of admitting the second part.
Ever.
+++
At eleven thirty-seven, Fan Xiao was convinced his temperature had gone down.
At eleven thirty-nine, he discovered he was wrong.
Thirty-eight point four.
His face tightened.
You Shulang noticed immediately.
“That's two-tenths of a degree.”
Fan Xiao looked at the thermometer.
“It's gone up.”
“By two-tenths.”
“It's gone up.”
“This isn't the stock market. You don't need to analyze the trend.”
No answer.
You Shulang watched him for a moment.
Something was wrong.
It was no longer just excessive concern. Not the ordinary overprotectiveness he knew and had expected from the beginning. Fan Xiao was still functioning normally. Replying to messages. Attending two meetings. Taking care of his own business. Joking. Complaining. Several times he had tried to convince You Shulang to drink something he called a traditional cold remedy, which smelled suspicious enough that You Shulang refused even to taste it.
But every time the thermometer showed a number higher than expected, something changed in his eyes.
Tension.
Brief.
Almost invisible.
You Shulang knew him well enough, though.
He knew the difference between control and calm.
Fan Xiao was perfectly composed.
He was not calm.
“Hey.”
Fan Xiao looked up.
You Shulang patted the space beside him.
“Come here.”
“I need to bring you…”
“Fan Xiao.”
The man stopped.
A few seconds later, he sat on the edge of the bed.
You Shulang studied him carefully.
“What are you afraid of?”
Fan Xiao laughed lightly.
Too lightly.
“A cold?”
“Don't even try.”
“Try what?”
“Doing that.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
You Shulang placed a hand on his forearm.
Fan Xiao looked at it.
The silence lasted a long time.
It wasn't awkward.
It was simply full of things Fan Xiao wasn't ready to say yet.
You Shulang waited.
He had learned how to do that.
Once, he'd tried to drag the truth out by force. By anger. By questions. Sometimes simply because he hadn't trusted a single word that came out of the mouth of the man sitting across from him.
Now he knew there were moments when Fan Xiao needed a few extra seconds.
“I don't like it when you're sick.”
You Shulang raised his eyebrows.
“I noticed.”
“I don't like it when something's wrong with you.”
“Fan Xiao…”
“I know it's a cold.” The man's voice grew quieter. “I know.”
That second I know sounded completely different.
You Shulang didn't interrupt.
Fan Xiao stared somewhere at the bedding between them.
“I just don't like it when there's nothing I can do.”
And there it was.
Such a small sentence.
So simple.
And yet You Shulang felt something soft and painful shift beneath his ribs.
Because that was the very heart of Fan Xiao.
Not money.
Not power.
Not connections.
Not even his obsessive need to control everything around him.
The fear of finding himself in a situation where none of those things would be enough.
Fan Xiao could buy a company if that company stood in his way. He could find a man if the man was hiding. He could investigate someone's past, influence a decision, change the terms of a negotiation, force an advantage, plan several moves ahead. All his life, he'd learned to treat the world as something that could be arranged to his liking if he possessed enough information, patience, and resources.
But a fever didn't negotiate.
A virus didn't accept bribes.
Pain didn't respond to threats.
You Shulang held out his hand.
“Come closer.”
Fan Xiao looked at him.
“You'll infect me.”
For several seconds, You Shulang was too surprised to answer.
Then he snorted.
“You've been touching me every five minutes since six this morning, you slept beside me all night, and you tried to check my temperature with your own forehead. And now you're worried I'll infect you?”
Fan Xiao considered that.
“Fair point.”
He lay down beside him.
You Shulang moved closer and, to Fan Xiao's utter astonishment, rested his head on his chest.
The man froze.
“Shulang?”
“Mhm.”
“What are you doing?”
“Treating you.”
Fan Xiao looked down.
“Me?”
“Your paranoia.”
Silence.
Then the chest beneath You Shulang's cheek shook with a quiet laugh.
“You're a terrible doctor.”
“And you're a very difficult patient.”
“You're the one who's sick.”
“According to you, we're both sick.”
Fan Xiao wrapped his arms around him carefully.
Very carefully.
As though even now he was afraid of holding him too tightly.
You Shulang closed his eyes.
“I'll be fine.”
“I know.”
“It's just a cold.”
“I know.”
“I'll probably feel better tomorrow.”
Fan Xiao was silent for a moment.
“I know.”
This time, You Shulang believed him.
+++
Fan Xiao cooked lunch.
That is to say, Fan Xiao supervised the preparation of lunch.
According to him, that was an important distinction.
According to You Shulang, it wasn't a distinction at all.
The rice porridge arrived from a restaurant, but Fan Xiao personally transferred it into a pot, reheated it, added several ingredients according to instructions he'd received from someone over the phone, and spent a full ten minutes behaving as though he'd just achieved a culinary triumph worthy of a Michelin star.
You Shulang sat at the kitchen island wrapped in a blanket, because Fan Xiao had decided that if he refused to eat in bed, then at the very least he mustn't get cold.
“It's just rice.”
Fan Xiao turned around.
“Not just rice.”
“Rice and water.”
“There are extras.”
“I can see two pieces of ginger.”
“Three.”
You Shulang looked into the bowl.
“That changes everything.”
Fan Xiao placed it in front of him.
“Eat.”
You Shulang filled his spoon.
Tasted it.
Paused.
Fan Xiao was watching him far too closely.
“And?”
“Edible.”
“That's all?”
You Shulang took another spoonful.
“I won't die.”
“How romantic of you.”
“I have a fever. My standards of communication are lower than usual.”
Fan Xiao sat opposite him.
“You could say it's good.”
You Shulang looked at him.
“It's good.”
Fan Xiao immediately smiled.
It was almost pathetic.
You Shulang felt a small warmth in his chest that, this time, had nothing to do with his fever.
He ate the entire bowl.
Fan Xiao said nothing.
But he looked very pleased.
+++
By evening, his temperature had begun to fall.
Thirty-seven point eight.
Fan Xiao checked twice.
You Shulang let him.
Not because it was necessary.
Simply because he'd noticed the way Fan Xiao's shoulders relaxed after the second reading.
“See?”
Fan Xiao put the thermometer down.
“The medicine is working.”
“My body is working.”
“The medicine is helping.”
“Fine.”
You Shulang was lying on the couch with his head resting on a pillow. Fan Xiao sat on the floor beside him, leaning his back against the sofa. The television played quietly, but neither of them was really watching it. You Shulang had dozed through most of the past hour, waking only when his throat grew irritated or Fan Xiao adjusted the blanket.
The third time, he caught his hand.
“Stop.”
“What?”
“The blanket is fine.”
“It slipped.”
“By two centimeters.”
Fan Xiao looked at the fabric.
“It still slipped.”
You Shulang didn't release his hand.
Fan Xiao didn't try to take it back.
They sat like that in silence for several minutes.
“You know…” You Shulang finally said.
“Mhm?”
“There's one thing that really helps with a cold.”
Fan Xiao immediately raised his head.
“What?”
You Shulang looked at him.
That man truly was impossible.
All it took was one sentence and his entire attention focused on solving the problem. He was probably already planning where to obtain this mysterious medicine, whom to wake up, how much to pay, and whether a car or a plane would need to be dispatched.
You Shulang tugged at his hand.
“Come here.”
Fan Xiao stood up.
“What do you need?”
You Shulang shifted over, making space for him on the couch.
“You.”
Fan Xiao froze.
Actually froze.
For one brief, deeply satisfying second, he had no answer at all.
You Shulang took advantage of it, tugging harder until Fan Xiao sat beside him.
“That's the medicine?”
“Mhm.”
“Does it have any proven benefits?”
“No.”
“Side effects?”
“Plenty.”
Fan Xiao smiled.
“Sounds risky.”
“Very.”
You Shulang rested his head on his shoulder.
Fan Xiao immediately put an arm around him.
“Dosage?”
You Shulang closed his eyes.
“Unlimited.”
“I like this prescription.”
“I knew you would.”
Fan Xiao kissed his forehead.
Then again.
And again.
You Shulang frowned.
“Stop.”
“Checking your temperature.”
“With your mouth?”
“A modern method.”
“You're an idiot.”
“But an effective one?”
You Shulang wanted to deny it.
Instead, he snuggled a little closer.
Fan Xiao didn't comment.
Thankfully.
+++
In the middle of the night, You Shulang woke up thirsty.
The room was dark, but the small bedside lamp was still on.
Fan Xiao wasn't asleep.
He was sitting against the headboard with his phone in his hand, although the screen was dark. He was watching You Shulang.
“What time is it?”
“After two.”
Fan Xiao's voice was quiet.
You Shulang frowned.
“Why aren't you asleep?”
“I wasn't tired.”
A lie.
Not a particularly good one.
You Shulang held out his hand.
Fan Xiao handed him some water before he could ask for it.
You Shulang drank, set the glass aside, and looked at him.
“Did you check my temperature?”
Fan Xiao said nothing.
“While I was asleep?”
“Only once.”
“And?”
“Thirty-seven point two.”
You Shulang sighed.
“So almost normal.”
“Mhm.”
“And you're still awake.”
Fan Xiao shrugged.
You Shulang watched him for another few seconds.
Then he lifted the duvet.
“Lie down.”
“I'm…”
“Fan Xiao.”
The man put down his phone.
He lay down.
You Shulang immediately moved closer, pressed his face into the hollow of his neck, and wrapped an arm around him.
Fan Xiao lay motionless for a moment.
“You really are trying to treat me.”
“Mhm.”
“I think it's working.”
“Wonderful.”
“I might need a long course of therapy.”
“Don't take advantage of the situation.”
“Never.”
You Shulang felt a smile against his hair.
“Sleep.”
“If your temperature goes up again…”
“It won't.”
“You can't…”
“Fan Xiao.”
Silence.
“Mhm?”
You Shulang opened his eyes.
He couldn't see Fan Xiao's face from this position.
Perhaps that was why it was easier to say.
“I'm here.”
Fan Xiao stopped breathing for one brief moment.
You Shulang continued calmly.
“I'm here. I'm fine. You don't have to sit up all night making sure I'm breathing.”
The hand on his back tightened slightly.
“I wasn't doing that.”
“Of course.”
“I was only checking…”
“That I'm breathing.”
“That you're sleeping peacefully.”
You Shulang smiled against his neck.
There was a difference.
A small one.
And a very Fan Xiao one.
“I sleep peacefully when you're sleeping too.”
That worked.
Fan Xiao said nothing more.
After a few minutes, his breathing began to even out.
You Shulang fell asleep shortly afterward.
+++
The next morning, he woke first.
His head hurt less.
His throat was still dry, but nowhere near as terrible as before.
His body no longer seemed to be made of lead.
All things considered, he felt much better.
Fan Xiao slept beside him, one arm still wrapped around his waist.
You Shulang watched him for a moment.
There was something almost ridiculous about seeing this man so completely defenseless in sleep. Fan Xiao, who could walk into a room and have everyone paying attention to his words within minutes, was now sleeping with his lips slightly parted and a strand of hair falling straight across his nose.
You Shulang raised his hand.
Brushed the hair aside.
Fan Xiao stirred.
Opened his eyes.
The first thing he did was touch You Shulang's forehead.
Not good morning.
Not how did you sleep.
His forehead.
You Shulang let him.
Fan Xiao frowned in concentration.
“Cooler.”
“Mhm.”
He reached for the thermometer.
You Shulang didn't even protest.
Thirty-six point nine.
Fan Xiao stared at the result for several seconds.
Then his shoulders dropped.
Actually dropped.
As though a weight whose presence You Shulang hadn't previously understood in full had suddenly disappeared.
“I'm alive.”
Fan Xiao looked at him.
“Don't joke about that.”
You Shulang fell silent.
The tone was gentle.
But something in it made the joke stop being funny.
He reached out and touched Fan Xiao's cheek.
“All right.”
Fan Xiao closed his eyes, leaning his cheek into his palm.
“All right.”
They lay like that for a while.
Then You Shulang noticed something.
“Your forehead is warm.”
Fan Xiao opened his eyes.
Silence.
You Shulang pressed his hand to his neck.
Even warmer.
Fan Xiao looked away.
You Shulang slowly sat up.
“Fan Xiao.”
“No.”
“No what?”
“I'm not sick.”
“You just said exactly what I said yesterday.”
“That's different.”
You Shulang reached for the thermometer.
Fan Xiao moved it away.
“There's no need.”
“Give it to me.”
“Shulang.”
“The thermometer.”
“I really feel fine.”
You Shulang raised his eyebrows.
Fan Xiao managed to hold his gaze for perhaps three seconds.
Then handed over the thermometer.
A few minutes later, the display read:
37.9°C.
You Shulang stared.
So did Fan Xiao.
The silence lasted a long time.
A very long time.
Finally, You Shulang looked up.
Fan Xiao smiled innocently.
“Just a slight temperature.”
You Shulang felt something extraordinarily satisfying awaken in his chest.
“Of course.”
“It'll probably pass.”
“Mhm.”
“I have a few meetings.”
“Not anymore.”
Fan Xiao slowly narrowed his eyes.
You Shulang got out of bed.
“Get back under the duvet.”
“Shulang.”
“You have a fever.”
“Thirty-seven point nine.”
“That isn't a normal temperature.”
Fan Xiao stared at him in disbelief.
You Shulang almost smiled.
Almost.
“Does your throat hurt?”
“No.”
“Your head?”
“No.”
You Shulang stared.
Fan Xiao sighed.
“A little.”
“Muscles?”
“You Shulang.”
“I'm conducting a medical examination.”
“You're not a doctor.”
You Shulang reached for his phone.
“I can find a doctor.”
Fan Xiao opened his mouth.
Closed it.
You Shulang was already laughing.
“This isn't funny at all.”
“It is.”
“You're a cruel man.”
“I caught it from you.”
Fan Xiao reached out, caught his wrist, and pulled him back onto the bed.
You Shulang didn't resist particularly hard.
A moment later they were lying beside each other again, this time both slightly feverish, both with sore throats, and both far too pleased with the situation for two sick people.
Fan Xiao buried his face against his shoulder.
“This is your fault.”
“You spent practically the entire day on top of me.”
“I was saving you.”
“From a cold.”
“Exactly.”
You Shulang ran a hand through his hair.
“Now I'll save you.”
Fan Xiao raised his head.
“Really?”
“Mhm.”
“How?”
You Shulang thought for a moment.
Then kissed his forehead.
Fan Xiao blinked.
“Checking your temperature.”
“With your mouth?”
“A modern method.”
Fan Xiao stared at him for another few seconds.
Then started laughing.
You Shulang joined him.
The laughter quickly turned into coughing on both sides, which only made the entire situation even more absurd.
Fan Xiao fell back against his pillow.
“We're hopeless.”
You Shulang straightened the duvet over them.
“Mhm.”
“But at least we're together.”
You Shulang looked at him.
Normally, he would have rolled his eyes.
Said something about cheesy lines.
About the fever having damaged his brain.
About how, if he intended to be this dramatic over a temperature of thirty-seven point nine, he really ought to call that best doctor of his.
Instead, he moved closer.
Fan Xiao immediately did the same.
Two sick people under one duvet probably weren't the best medical solution.
Nor was kissing someone you had just infected particularly sensible.
Or sharing a single glass of water because neither of them could be bothered getting up for another.
Or spending half the day in bed watching an absurdly bad television series that Fan Xiao had chosen solely because the main character reminded him of someone he disliked.
But You Shulang had never claimed love was sensible.
Especially loving Fan Xiao.
Fan Xiao, who had tried to cure an ordinary cold with money, control, and three kinds of tea.
Fan Xiao, who couldn't fall asleep until You Shulang's fever went down.
Fan Xiao, who now lay with a nose just as blocked as his own and still tried to insist it was “just a little fatigue.”
You Shulang watched him for a moment, then smiled and touched his cheek.
There was no cure for Fan Xiao.
For his paranoia.
For his jealousy.
For his possessiveness.
For his unbearable need to keep You Shulang as close as circumstances would allow.
And perhaps that was a good thing.
Because somewhere along the way, You Shulang had stopped wanting to cure him of most of those things.
It was enough to teach him where the boundaries lay.
Enough, sometimes, to take his hand.
To say I'm here.
To let him see that not every threat meant loss, and not every moment without control ended in disaster.
And if Fan Xiao needed a reminder from time to time…
You Shulang could handle that.
After all, he already knew the best medicine.
He pulled him closer.
Fan Xiao snuggled into him immediately.
And this time, neither of them protested.