Chapter 23: The Fever and the Giant “Ice Pack”

Lin Mo walked home slowly. Above, the sky was a bruised purple, heavy with rolling black clouds—a clear sign of an impending storm.

The summer forest was already stifling, but with the rain brewing, the air turned thick and muggy. Lin Mo’s skin felt sticky and her head felt heavy. She decided her first priority upon returning was a hot bath to shake off the malaise.

Pushing open the gate, she looked around the courtyard but couldn’t find Mo Jin. A flicker of disappointment touched her heart as she set a pot of water to boil. Once the temperature was right, she hauled the wooden bucket into the cabin, a towel draped over her shoulder, only to find the door wouldn’t budge.

Someone’s inside?

Lin Mo paused, then knocked softly. “Mo Jin? Are you in there?”

Inside, Mo Jin froze. Her furry ears gave a sharp twitch. She scrambled to her feet, hurriedly checked that her clothes were neat, and pulled open the door.

The two of them stood there, stunned for a moment, their eyes instinctively darting away from each other.

Lin Mo fidgeted with her fingers. “I… I wanted to take a bath.”

Mo Jin let out a soft “Mm” and stepped aside to let her pass. As they brushed by each other, not even the hems of their clothes touched. They were like two small animals wanting to huddle for warmth but too stubborn or shy to cross the boundary of their own territory.

They stopped, back-to-back, separated by a door, yet it felt as if they could hear each other’s heartbeats. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

Lin Mo couldn’t help but turn her head. “Mo Jin?”

Mo Jin’s lashes fluttered; her heart skipped a beat. She clenched her hands until her knuckles turned white. The atmosphere was thick with a delicate, awkward tension.

“Help me close the door,” Lin Mo requested softly.

Mo Jin’s shoulders relaxed. With a flick of her fingers, the door swung shut.

Lin Mo leaned against the side of the wooden bucket and let out a long, shaky breath. Living with an iceberg is a serious test of mental fortitude. I almost couldn’t handle it.

The water had cooled slightly, but as she splashed it onto her face, the stickiness vanished. However, her body felt strangely weak, like cotton.

The Rainy Night

By the time Lin Mo finished her bath and changed, the rain had finally arrived. It didn’t roar; instead, it pitter-pattered against the broad leaves, flowing down the tips to soak the earth.

She hurried back into the main room, shaking the droplets off her jacket. A fire was already crackling in the hearth, and something was simmering in the pot. Mo Jin sat on a small stool, her hands held out to the flames. Under the orange glow, her features looked soft and warm, the usual icy lines of her jaw relaxed.

Lin Mo’s heart melted. It had been so long since she felt this—the feeling of someone waiting for her to come home.

She sat down quietly beside Mo Jin, warming her hands. A faint scent of bamboo wafted from her, and Mo Jin tilted her head slightly closer to Lin Mo’s side.

“What’s in the pot?” Lin Mo asked, trying to break the silence.

“Chicken.”

“Oh. Where did you find it?”

“A trap I set earlier.”

Lin Mo propped her chin in her hands, watching the flames. She didn’t really care about the chicken; she just wanted to talk. But the warmth of the fire made her drowsy. Her eyes began to droop.

“When I caught the chicken,” Mo Jin added after a silence, “I found two eggs in the nest. I brought them too.”

“Eggs?” Lin Mo mumbled, half-asleep, only catching the last word.

Mo Jin cracked the eggs into the pot. Lin Mo’s head began to bob like a chick pecking at grain. Finally, Mo Jin couldn’t stand it anymore. She reached out to steady Lin Mo’s head.

The moment her cool palm touched Lin Mo’s cheek, Mo Jin recoiled. Lin Mo was burning up.

The Caretaker

“Don’t move. You’re sick,” Mo Jin commanded. She scooped Lin Mo up—one arm behind her neck, the other under her knees—and carried her to the bed.

Lin Mo was in a daze. One moment she was being held in a pair of strong, fragrant arms, and the next she was tucked into a chilly bed. She tried to squirm out like a little caterpillar, but Mo Jin leaned over, her hands pinning the quilt on either side of Lin Mo.

Mo Jin’s proximity and the serious look on her face made Lin Mo’s face turn an even deeper shade of red. She pulled the quilt up over her head. “I’m covered! I’m fine!”

She was terrified her racing heart would give her away.

Mo Jin frowned at the lump under the covers, stood up, and grabbed her cloak. “I’m going out for a bit.”

“Where?” Lin Mo peeked out.

“I’ll be back soon.” A gust of wind caught Mo Jin’s shirt as she opened the door, revealing a glimpse of her pale, firm waist. Lin Mo blinked, staring at that waist, then looked at her own hands. It felt so soft when I touched it… and it looks so good too.

As the door closed, the room grew cold. Lin Mo shivered and retreated into the depths of the quilt.

The Panda Heat Sink

Later that night, the fever took hold. Lin Mo drifted in and out of consciousness. She felt bitter medicine being poured into her mouth, followed by a sour fruit to mask the taste. She tried to cry out that she was cold, shrinking into the corner of the bed.

Mo Jin returned, her clothes soaked. She shifted into her panda form, shook the water from her fur, and used her $qi$ to dry herself instantly. Then, she climbed onto the bed.

As soon as the giant panda lay down, Lin Mo instinctively clung to her. She wrapped herself in the thick fur as if it were a living quilt and tucked her head under the panda’s large paw. She stopped shivering and began to hum contentedly.

Mo Jin carefully retracted her sharp claws, making her body as soft as possible for Lin Mo to lean against. Since we are mates, I should take good care of her, Mo Jin thought.

She touched Lin Mo’s forehead. The temperature was still high. Plants were delicate; a cold snap could kill them. Mo Jin focused her energy, condensing two drops of Spiritual Dew on her fingertips, and let them fall onto the tiny bamboo leaves on Lin Mo’s head.

Lin Mo, dreaming of a desert, felt the moisture. “More… so thirsty,” she rasped.

Mo Jin sighed and provided more dew until the leaves regained their luster.

Then, the fever swung the other way. Lin Mo began to feel like she was roasting. “Too hot… go away…” she muttered, pushing at the furry mass beside her.

Mo Jin had no choice but to get up, change back to human form, and step outside into the rain to cool her skin. When she returned, she hugged Lin Mo to act as a human “ice pack.”

Lin Mo drank in the coolness. To her fevered brain, she was holding a giant, soft popsicle. She took a greedy “lick” of the popsicle—right on Mo Jin’s cheek.

The “lick” was sweet and tingly. Mo Jin’s heart softened so much it began to race, her own body temperature rising from the sheer shyness of it.

Poof. In her agitation, she turned back into a giant panda.

Feeling her “popsicle” suddenly turn back into a warm rug, a grumpy, feverish Lin Mo gave the panda’s belly a weak little kick.