Chapter 28 part 2: Craving

“Oh no, I forgot something important!”

Ji Pei slapped her forehead, realizing it was seven o’clock. She’d talked with Jiang Xihan for two hours.

“I didn’t buy vegetables or meat!”

She grabbed her tablet, opening a delivery app to her usual supermarket.

“The meat and vegetables here are fresh. I order often.”

“A box of beef—look at that marbling.”

“Want steak? I’m great at grilling.”

Jiang Xihan, petting the freed Xue Meiniang, nodded.

“Then some vegetables and two boxes of cherry tomatoes—sweet and tasty.”

Ji Pei scrolled through the app, tempted to order all the beef.

But frozen leftovers lose texture. Best not to overbuy.

She ordered over ten items—meat, vegetables, fruits, and snacks.

Noticing Jiang Xihan’s silence, Ji Pei felt uneasy and asked what she wanted to eat.

Then she saw it.

Jiang Xihan’s face was unnaturally flushed, her sharp eyes drooping, listless, with a rouge-like tint at their corners.

Ji Pei set down the tablet, leaned in, and softly called her name, sensing something was wrong.

She touched Jiang Xihan’s forehead, startled by the heat.

“You’re burning up.”

Vaccines could cause side effects like dizziness or high fever.

“Jiang Xihan?”

Ji Pei grabbed the medical kit, using a thermometer gun on her ear.

Thirty-eight point five degrees.

Seeing the red number, Ji Pei bit her lip, silent, taking a deep breath.

“Feeling cold?”

Jiang Xihan nodded. “A bit.”

Ji Pei stroked her soft hair, stood, and moved closer, gently lifting Jiang Xihan’s legs to carry her horizontally.

Her movements were careful. In the master bedroom, she placed Jiang Xihan on the bed, propping her up with a pillow.

With Jiang Xihan’s arms impaired, Ji Pei avoided pressuring her vaccinated left arm.

The doctor had said fevers up to thirty-eight point five were normal. Jiang Xihan was at the threshold, needing only cooling measures.

Thin-skinned people looked worse when feverish.

Jiang Xihan’s face was flushed, eyes half-closed, lips parted, breathing rapid, chest rising and falling.

Ji Pei ran to the bathroom, wetting a towel with warm water to wipe her forehead, then applied a cooling patch.

Jiang Xihan, silent for a while, said, “So cold.”

Hearing her speak, Ji Pei relaxed.

“I’ll try the cooling patch first. If it doesn’t work, you’ll need medicine.”

Jiang Xihan’s face was buried in the soft pillow. Too weak to nod, she hummed softly.

Her first time in Ji Pei’s bedroom, and it wasn’t for anything risqué.

She’d thought her constitution was strong, expecting only arm pain from the vaccine.

But…

The pillow was soft and fragrant, carrying Ji Pei’s scent. Despite her headache, the smell eased her discomfort.

She opened her eyes slowly, seeing Ji Pei frown, rummaging through the medical kit for another cooling patch.

Ji Pei rarely took medicine or went to hospitals, recovering naturally.

But with Jiang Xihan sick, she was desperate for her to cool down, her heart restless.

“Headache?”

Jiang Xihan hummed, lips moving. “A bit. Very dizzy.”

Ji Pei held her, feeding her water.

“Drink more. Sweating will help.”

After half an hour, the cooling patch was warm. Ji Pei removed it, rechecking Jiang Xihan’s temperature—thirty-eight point six.

Her brows knitted into a “川”. “Why’s it higher?”

Jiang Xihan’s dry lips moved. “How high?”

“Thirty-eight point six.”

Ji Pei opened a new bottle of ibuprofen, pouring the right dose into a cup, placing it on the nightstand.

She grabbed two pillows, gently propping up the weak Jiang Xihan.

“Dear, time for medicine.”

The phrase felt odd, vaguely familiar.

Ji Pei poured the pink medicine into a bowl, diluting it with warm water. A sweet strawberry-citrus scent wafted up.

Jiang Xihan’s mouth was dry from the fever. Seeing the pink liquid, she asked, “What’s this?”

“Ibuprofen for fever. Kids’ version, but adults can take it.”

Jiang Xihan frowned. Ji Pei smiled. “It’s sweet, like strawberries. Tastes good.”

“Medicine can’t taste good.”

Ji Pei held a spoon to her lips. “Try it. It’s sweet, I swear, or I’m a puppy.”

Jiang Xihan had a secret—she hated bitter things, especially herbal teas.

Sniffing the sweet scent, she parted her lips, tasting the kids’ medicine.

It was faintly strawberry, sweet on her tongue.

Not bad.

Seeing her relax, Ji Pei fed her spoonful by spoonful.

“I didn’t lie, right? It works for fevers.”

If the usual stern Jiang Xihan was an iceberg, the sick, fragile version was a delicate porcelain doll.

She drank slowly, taking two sips per spoonful.

Ji Pei wasn’t impatient, worried she’d choke.

“Take your time.”

Ji Pei rarely cared for others and felt clumsy tending to Jiang Xihan.

When Jiang Xihan finished, Ji Pei smiled. “Tasty? I told you it’s sweet.”

Jiang Xihan regained some strength, but her left arm ached more, hard to lift.

“Hm.”

“Hungry? I’ll make something to settle your stomach.”

Jiang Xihan had no appetite, shaking her head. “Don’t want to eat.”

Ji Pei touched her forehead, whispering, “Then don’t.”

***

After the medicine, Ji Pei adjusted the pillow, letting Jiang Xihan rest.

She turned off the ceiling light, leaving only a warm yellow mushroom nightlight plugged into the socket, glowing with a tap.

Seeing Jiang Xihan’s curiosity, Ji Pei smiled. “A kid from the orphanage gave it to me when I volunteered.”

Jiang Xihan was shocked. “You volunteered at an orphanage?”

Ji Pei propped her chin. “Yeah, I cooked for them for two months. When I left, the kids and staff didn’t want me to go.”

Jiang Xihan’s left arm couldn’t move, so she used her bandaged right hand to caress Ji Pei’s cool cheek.

“Amazing.”

She wanted to kiss Ji Pei’s forehead but remembered her fever might be contagious.

Her soft fingertips traced Ji Pei’s brow, sliding to her nose.

Ji Pei grabbed her fingers, guiding them to her lips, nibbling gently with her sharp canines.

A tingling sensation spread through Jiang Xihan. She took a deep breath, exhaling heat.

Her body burned, her soul ablaze.

Like fireworks exploding in the sky.

As her face reddened, Ji Pei, confused, released her fingers, touching her forehead.

“So red. It shouldn’t be hotter.”

Jiang Xihan pursed her lips, thinking, ‘It’s not from the fever.’

She deflected, “I’m a bit dizzy.”

Ji Pei, knowing the medicine took time, whispered, “Sleep if you’re dizzy. I’ll check your temperature later without waking you.”

Jiang Xihan closed her eyes, not sleepy.

Her eyes glowed under the nightlight. Ji Pei, reading the medicine’s instructions, missed the fleeting intensity in her gaze.

Ji Pei’s profile was flawless, like a master sculptor’s work.

Her worried frown made Jiang Xihan’s heart race, her eyes filled with boundless craving.

She wanted to be close, to hold her, to merge body and soul, becoming the closest partners in the world.

Why…

Why did she meet Ji Pei only at thirty?

Jiang Xihan closed her eyes tightly, regret and sorrow swelling, her heart soaking in bitter vinegar.

Sick people overthink. She felt feverish, her mind filled with fleeting fantasies.

She imagined an eighteen-year-old Ji Pei, youthful, speaking with shy softness.

In the second before losing consciousness, Jiang Xihan realized her brain might be fried.

***

An hour after the medicine, Jiang Xihan began sweating.

She had a hazy dream, holding Ji Pei, doing what she’d wanted since their first meeting.

In the dimness, she coughed twice. Ji Pei, thinking she was awake, turned on another lamp.

“You okay? Feeling bad?”

Jiang Xihan’s voice was hoarse, eyes lowered, hiding the intense desire within.

“My throat’s dry.”

“I’ll get water.”

Ji Pei tucked her hair behind her ear, her bangs wet with sweat, clinging to her flushed cheeks.

Ji Pei considered saline water, mixing a pinch of salt into a glass with a straw.

Watching her back, Jiang Xihan exhaled deeply, her body soaked and sticky.

When Ji Pei returned, Jiang Xihan hid her gaze, shifting slightly, thighs pressed tightly under the covers.

Normally, Ji Pei would’ve noticed, but now she chalked it up to the fever.

Jiang Xihan’s dizziness eased. Leaning in Ji Pei’s arms, she seemed weak but had regained strength.

Being cared for like this wasn’t bad.

Jiang Xihan never saw herself as selfless or desireless, as others claimed.

She only wanted Ji Pei.

A straw touched her lips. She sipped the warm water, tasting a hint of salt.

“Why’s it salty? No more sweets?”

Though her fever was thirty-eight point five, Jiang Xihan’s dazed state seemed more like forty degrees.

So disoriented, unable to manage daily life. Everyone’s constitution differed—Jiang Xihan was frail, no wonder she trained in martial arts.

“It’s saline, for electrolytes. You’re sweating a lot.”

“Oh.”

Jiang Xihan leaned on Ji Pei, her head against her soft chest, sipping the saline through Ji Pei’s hand.

Ji Pei, watching her docile state, thought, ‘So obedient.’

After finishing, Jiang Xihan lowered her eyes, looking submissive.

She’d never shown such vulnerability before Ji Pei.

Ji Pei felt Jiang Xihan was dominant, kissing her forcefully, always taking control.

Did she have multiple personalities?

In public, she was cold and aloof; privately, a reckless bad woman.

Now, sick and weak, she was a fragile porcelain doll, needing Ji Pei to feed her water and medicine.

A twisted thrill rose in Ji Pei—she could control Jiang Xihan too.

Her heart pounded. She took deep breaths, leaned down, and kissed Jiang Xihan’s forehead, touching the cool patch with a minty scent.

She whispered, “Sleep after water. I’m here. You need rest.”

Jiang Xihan blinked softly, her voice hoarse. “I can’t sleep.”

Ji Pei turned off the lamp, holding Jiang Xihan’s left hand in the dim light. “I’ll turn off the lights.”

Jiang Xihan pursed her lips, her expression almost aggrieved.

She curled up, coughing twice.

“I’m a bit cold.”

“Cold?”

Ji Pei panicked, touching her cheek, feeling heat, and asked softly, “Headache? Nauseous? Arm pain?”

Jiang Xihan shook her head. “Not too bad, just… cold.”

Her eyes locked onto Ji Pei, the tear mole at her eye sharper.

Then, in a hoarse voice, she said,

“Can you come up and hold me to sleep?”