Chapter 11: In Dreams… You Don’t Have To

When Wen Qi lived alone in the old tube building, she usually grabbed breakfast on the way to No. 1 High School. If she was pressed for time, she’d sometimes skip it altogether.

But ever since moving into Wei Qingxuan’s house, she hadn’t missed a single meal. Mostly because Wei Qingxuan was like a tireless alarm clock, knocking on her door at the same time every morning.

Today, though, what rang on time was her phone.

Wen Qi answered and spoke first. “Hello, Wei Qingxuan.”

“I’m here.”

She yawned, set her phone on the table, and began combing her hair in front of the mirror. “You didn’t sleep well last night, did you?”

Last night…

He’d been busy. His mind had been filled, vividly, with her.

Wei Qingxuan’s gaze drifted toward the bathroom door as he refuted softly, “I slept fine.”

He hadn’t quite masked the nasal tone in his voice. Combined with how low and light it was, it sounded like he was murmuring right beside her ear. A faint tingling spread along her neck.

“Then why didn’t you knock on my door today? And you’ve got such an obvious nasal tone, don’t tell me you just woke up!”

He raked a hand through his hair, not fully awake, leaning against the headboard. Only when he heard her voice did he slowly open his eyes.

“More or less,” he paused, then added, “I had a dream last night.”

Wen Qi finished her hair, poured herself a glass of warm water, and teased casually, “Dreamed about me?”

Wei Qingxuan pushed himself up on one arm, the corner of his lips curving as he admitted, “Yeah. How did you know?”

“Guess,” she said, but her drinking motion stalled. She coughed lightly and probed, “So was it a good dream or a nightmare?”

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers brushed over the sheets. Then he let out a low laugh. It rolled out of his chest, soft and husky, laced with lingering sleepiness, dangerously alluring.

“A good dream. A very good one.”

“Oh? What did you dream about?” She was about to head to the dining room, but the silence on the other end made her pause.

Realizing something, she started again. “…Wait.”

But his voice had already come through the receiver. He was still smiling. Cool, certain, yet threaded with unmistakable desire, cutting straight through the sultry morning air.

“Late at night. You and me. What do you think I dreamed about, hmm, Qiqi?”

****

It was the first time Wen Qi had experienced what it felt like to be thoroughly unsettled by someone.

And the culprit was Wei Qingxuan.

She felt indignant. Two short sentences, and he’d managed to throw her entire morning off balance.

At one end of the long dining table sat delicate white porcelain plates, golden toast, red sausages, fried eggs…

But her attention wasn’t on any of that. She gripped the glass bottle beside her and silently cursed: Wei Qingxuan, you’ve really grown bold.

Dong Lanying noticed her distracted expression. “Xiao Qi, are you feeling unwell?”

Wen Qi snapped back and flashed a bright smile. “No, just a little sleepy.”

“Is the breakfast not to your taste?” Dong Lanying glanced at her untouched plate.

She genuinely liked the clever girl. It felt like fate that Wen Qi was staying with them for a while. Seeing how slender she was, Dong Lanying had even instructed that breakfast be made more suited to young people’s tastes.

Aunt Sun chimed in, “What do you like to eat, Xiao Qi? I’ll make it tomorrow.”

Wen Qi hurriedly picked up her toast, not daring to let her thoughts drift back to Wei Qingxuan. “I really like this. I just eat slowly.”

Only then did the two women stop worrying.

Biting into her toast, Wen Qi’s brows gradually furrowed.

It was all Wei Qingxuan’s fault. Damn him. Talking like that first thing in the morning!

After a while, she finally felt herself shake off the dazed state and stopped thinking about him.

She wasn’t scheduled to work today, so she planned to take her time eating before practicing voice acting. She’d just received notice yesterday that she’d passed an audition.

Though it was only a supporting role with limited screen time, it was enough to make her happy for quite a while.

Sunlight filtered through the window, casting a warm glow over the dining table. Everything felt cozy. She sipped her warm milk, her gaze drifting to the empty seat across from her.

The culprit who had ruined her entire morning hadn’t shown up.

Dong Lanying clearly noticed too. She set down her bone china cup and turned to Aunt Sun. “Why hasn’t Qingxuan come down yet?”

Aunt Sun stepped forward. “I went upstairs to call him earlier. Knocked for quite a while before he responded. His voice sounded stuffy, like he’s caught a cold. Said he had no appetite and wouldn’t eat breakfast.”

‘A cold?’

Wen Qi glanced out the window. Even in the morning, the heat was obvious. It wouldn’t have been cold at night either.

‘In weather like this, he caught a cold?’

Dong Lanying frowned. “That child is so stubborn. Doesn’t say anything even when he’s uncomfortable. Xiao Sun, go find some cold medicine later and make him a bowl of ginger soup.”

“Alright.”

“Wait,” Wen Qi suddenly stood, her chair scraping lightly against the floor. “Grandma, Aunt Sun, I’ll go. I don’t have anything urgent to do anyway.”

She spoke quickly, her eyes flicking toward the staircase.

Dong Lanying looked at her knowingly and smiled. “That works. See if he’s awake. Make him eat at least something, he’ll need strength to fight off a cold.”

“Okay.”

But Wen Qi didn’t go upstairs immediately. She found some cold medicine and set it aside, then spent nearly an hour battling in the kitchen before producing a bowl of preserved egg and lean pork congee.

Someone with a cold should feel better after some porridge.

Carrying the steaming bowl, medicine tucked into her pocket, she knocked on his door.

“Wei Qingxuan, open up. I brought you medicine.”

The door opened just seconds after her words fell.

But only a crack.

To Wen Qi, that looked like he was guarding against her. She didn’t bother arguing, just shifted her body, nudged the door open, and set the bowl on the desk.

“I came to deliver medicine and cooked you porridge, and you’re blocking me at the door? Have you no manners?”

Startled by her sudden intrusion, Wei Qingxuan shot a quick glance around, recalling that the shawl had already been moved into the bathroom. Only then did he relax slightly.

Then he caught her words. “You made this?”

In his memory, Wen Qi hated going into the kitchen.

“Yeah.” She touched her nose. “The moment I heard you were sick, I couldn’t even eat. I was so worried I rushed right over.”

He sat across from her, stirring the porridge. “Is that so? Aunt Sun came by an hour ago. I asked her. She said you had quite an appetite this morning.”

“…”

An hour ago she’d been fighting kitchen utensils.

“If I didn’t eat, it would’ve gone to waste. And why were you asking Aunt Sun about that anyway?”

There were many things he couldn’t directly ask or openly care about, so he asked Aunt Sun instead.

Wei Qingxuan looked away. “Just… casually asking.”

Silence settled, broken only by the soft clink of spoon against porcelain.

“Are you really sick?” she finally asked, meeting his slightly unfocused eyes.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“In this weather? How did you even catch a cold?” She frowned. “Didn’t you say your room was hot these past few days? So how did you suddenly-”

He stopped stirring. His lashes cast shadows over his eyes, hiding the faint flicker of panic.

“I opened the window for some air last night. Probably caught a draft.”

His mind betrayed him, replaying the memory of clutching the blanket in the dark, his breathing out of control, her image filling every corner of his thoughts.

It had been so hot he’d kicked off the covers. But by the second half of the night, when he’d finally calmed down, cold sweat had soaked through his pajamas.

He’d opened the window. The night breeze poured in, and he hadn’t even felt cold then. Only by dawn had a heavy heat settled over him.

Those thoughts were like embers pressed against his chest, scorching him from within.

Wen Qi didn’t press further. “It shouldn’t be too hot now. Try it.”

He took a spoonful and swallowed slowly.

She watched him expectantly. “Well? If it’s bad, you don’t have to answer.”

He set down the spoon and looked at her bright eyes. After a pause, he answered honestly, “I think… you forgot the salt.”

“…”

“I’ll go add some.”

Halfway across the room, she noticed a smudge on her wrist and frowned. “I’ll wash my hands first.”

She turned toward the bathroom.

The spoon clattered back into the bowl.

“Wait.”

She paused. “What?”

Every muscle in his body tensed unnaturally. He lowered his gaze, forcing his tone to remain calm. “The sink pipe’s broken.”

“Is it?” she said thoughtfully. “Your room either has a broken AC or broken pipes. You should tell Aunt Sun to call someone to fix it.”

“I already did.”

She closed the bathroom door again. “Then I’ll wash downstairs and fix the porridge.”

He watched her the whole time. So many questions hovered at his lips, but in the end he only murmured, “Thanks. I know you don’t like cooking.”

His voice was lower than usual, hoarse, yet warm, less distant than before.

Wen Qi suddenly remembered a private message she’d seen and turned back. “Wei Qingxuan, did you know? Someone said our voices match really well.”

His breath hitched.

“I was wondering… did she mean our voices match, or we match?”

“What do you think?” His voice tightened, as if gently tugged by a hook he had no strength to pull away from.

She thought his voice was infuriating.

Especially that morning tone that made her tingle.

After circling around, she finally blurted, “Next time you dream about me, you’d better control yourself.”

Through gritted teeth.

“Have you ever dreamed about me?” he shot back.

“So what if I have?” she lifted her chin.

He smiled faintly. As expected, he still couldn’t resist following wherever she led.

He stood and walked toward her, step by step.

“In your dream, what did you do to me? Did you see it happen? Qiqi, in your dreams… you don’t have to control yourself.”

“Wei Qingxuan, I think your fever’s fried your brain!!!” She slammed the door.

Only when he heard her footsteps fade downstairs did he turn slowly and walk quietly to the bathroom.

He pushed the door open. The first thing that drifted out was the scent of body wash, the same one Wen Qi used.

Not strong, but like a thin needle pricking his heart.

The blue shawl lay in the sink, damp and slightly wrinkled, one corner draped over the edge.

He didn’t move. Just stared.

She’d been so close to this door earlier, fingers on the handle. Had she seen anything through the crack?

Smelled the scent he’d deliberately created?

She was so clever. Had she already noticed?

That he’d taken the shawl she’d left on the sofa and hidden it in his bathroom. That he’d switched to the same body wash she used. That he’d spent half the night clutching that fabric, steeped in her scent?

He pressed a hand to his brow.

If she had seen, what would she think?

The shawl lay quietly under the bathroom light, glowing softly. His earlier panic slowly settled, but his gaze darkened.

Such a quiet shawl.

What if it were Wen Qi sitting on the sink instead?

The thought alone stole his breath.

She wouldn’t sit so obediently.

Maybe she’d swing her legs, tapping the counter while humming off-key. Maybe she’d tilt her head at him, eyes glinting mischievously, deliberately saying things to make his heart race.

“Wei! Qing! Xuan! The porridge is ready!”

He smiled, closed the bathroom door, and opened his bedroom door.

When Wen Qi walked in with the bowl, she immediately noticed the flush creeping up his ears and along his jawline.

He took the bowl with both hands.

“Take your medicine,” she said, still faintly irritated, pressing the pills toward his lips.

Just as her fingers were about to brush them, he looked up.

He was still holding the spoon near his mouth, but his gaze was openly invasive, crashing straight into hers.

Her hand froze midair.

Had his eyes always looked this good?

She suddenly wanted to touch them.

But his gaze was too hot, nothing like his usual cool detachment. It was like a fire with nowhere to go, forcing her reckless thoughts back down.

“No fever,” he murmured.

“It doesn’t look like it.”

He didn’t answer. Just took another spoonful. The familiar taste burned his tongue.

Then, in a tone edged with mischief, he said, “Wen Qi, next time my dream will probably be even more outrageous.”

He wanted to test her.

And he also wanted…

To make Wen Qi sit on his sink.