Chapter 39

Xitang took a taxi to Jianguomen.

She entered the elevator from the hotel’s first-floor lobby. The entire hallway was very quiet, with no one in sight. Every resident here had absolute privacy. Xitang opened Zhao Pingjin’s front door and quietly peered into the living room. It was just after 4 p.m., and as usual, the curtains were tightly drawn. His bedroom door was also shut, and the entire house was silent.

Today was a weekday, so Zhao Pingjin generally wouldn’t be home at this hour.

Xitang relaxed, took off her shoes, and entered the room she was staying in. She searched through both the room and the bathroom but couldn’t find the earrings. So, she went back to the living room and turned over the coffee table, starting to check under the sofa cushions.

She was lying on the sofa, reaching her hand into the cushions to search for something, when she suddenly felt a cold breeze on her back. A shadow appeared in the room.

Xitang was startled.

She shivered and quickly looked back, only to see Zhao Pingjin standing by his bedroom door, leaning against it. He was wearing deep blue plaid sleep pants and a gray cashmere sweater, his hair in disarray.

When Zhao Pingjin saw her, his expression immediately darkened. “What’s this? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Xitang sat up, quickly patting her chest to calm herself. “I thought you weren’t home.”

Zhao Pingjin walked over and sat on the sofa, giving her a glance. “What are you looking for?”

His voice was hoarse.

Xitang replied, “A pair of earrings. I need them for a scene. I couldn’t find them in the crew’s hotel.”

He furrowed his brows slightly. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

Xitang paused, then realized and touched her swollen, red eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Oh, I was crying on set.”

Zhao Pingjin nodded but didn’t say anything further. He reached for a cigarette, thought for a moment, and put it down. Instead, he grabbed a cup. Half the water in it had already gone cold, and he frowned but didn’t bother to refill it.

Xitang continued sitting on the sofa, looking at him in confusion. “Why are you sleeping at home in the middle of the day?”

Zhao Pingjin answered harshly, “What’s it to you?”

Xitang asked, “Didn’t you say you were very busy? Is your bidding over?”

Zhao Pingjin suddenly looked up at her with a sharp, icy gaze, his eyes shadowed with dark clouds. He didn’t say anything.

Xitang suddenly felt a bit scared and whispered, “Qingqing told me you were working on a…”

Zhao Pingjin finally lit a cigarette. His expression remained cold, but he said casually, “It’s lost.”

Xitang froze for several seconds.

Zhao Pingjin was silent for a moment before speaking slowly. “I thought that if I got this deal, I’d successfully hand the company over to Li Ming, and I wouldn’t have to keep working two jobs. But I didn’t expect…”

His voice remained calm, but Xitang could tell that he wasn’t unaffected.

Xitang had heard Gao Jiyi and the others joking about Zhao Pingjin before. When Jingchuang Technology went public, the entire company’s market value was only a few billion, which was nothing compared to the military contracts at the company where Zhao Pingjin worked—those easily ran into hundreds of billions. Jingchuang really wasn’t much. Yet Zhao Pingjin treated it like he was fond of his own son. Xitang understood him. It was his dream, something he built with his own hands. A man in his twenties, in his prime, devoted all his strength and energy to the company he created. The amount of hardship and effort he poured into it, Xitang probably couldn’t even fully understand. The affection he had for it was natural.

His throat had become even more hoarse.

Xitang stood up and poured him a glass of water.

As Xitang approached him, she felt an abnormal warmth. Her instinct was to reach up and feel his forehead, which was burning hot. “You have a fever. Didn’t you know?”

Zhao Pingjin sat motionless on the sofa. “I’m not stupid, of course I know.”

Even through his clothes, Xitang could feel that his entire body was burning with fever. Despite being so feverish, he could still sit so stiffly—it wasn’t a matter of iron discipline.

No wonder he was at home napping in the middle of the day.

After Xitang made him drink the water, she glanced at him, then turned back to continue checking the sofa cushions. “You’re dressed so lightly, without even wearing socks. You should go back to bed.”

Zhao Pingjin didn’t respond, just glanced at her without saying anything.

Xitang said, “Hey, Zhao Pingjin?”

Zhao Pingjin replied, “I don’t want to move.”

Xitang walked over to him and grabbed his arm. “Go back to bed.”

Zhao Pingjin’s legs were weak. As she pulled him, he almost stumbled and fell to the ground. He grabbed the sofa with one hand and shouted at her, “Are you trying to kill me?”

It seemed he really was sick now. His voice was hoarse and weak, showing no strength, even though his tone remained harsh. Xitang didn’t argue with him. “Alright, alright, take it slow.”

Zhao Pingjin stood up but didn’t move. He had heard a noise in the living room earlier and forced himself to get up and come out, only to sit on the sofa and refuse to move again. Once he stood, a wave of dizziness hit.

Xitang had no choice but to support his arm.

Zhao Pingjin leaned on her arm as she helped him into the bedroom and laid him back on the bed. He was seeing things in a blur, and after just that small movement, dizziness overwhelmed him. Sweat began to bead on his forehead.

Xitang wiped the sweat from his temple.

She went into the bathroom to get a clean towel and glanced at the living room outside his bedroom. His shirt and trousers were carelessly thrown on the carpet. He usually had obsessive cleanliness and always cleaned up his clothes after changing, but he must have been so unwell when he got back that he just left them there.

Xitang tidied his clothes and then walked back into the bedroom. “Did you eat today?”

Zhao Pingjin shook his head as he lay on the bed, his face finally showing signs of discomfort.

Xitang said, “I’ll make you some porridge. Take some fever medicine first, and if you’re still not feeling well, we can go to the hospital later.”

Zhao Pingjin, in a daze, faintly replied, “I’m not going to the hospital.”

Xitang placed a fever-cooling patch on his forehead.

She made the porridge and brought it to his bedside.

He ate a few spoonfuls but frowned and refused to eat more.

Xitang didn’t force him. She set the bowl down and stood at his bedside, checking his medicine bottles. On the nightstand, there were only stomach medicine and painkillers.

Xitang studied his medicine bottles. “Has your stomach been hurting recently?”

Zhao Pingjin immediately denied, “No.”

“Have you had cramps?” Xitang asked.

“No,” he continued to be stubborn.

That meant there was pain, and probably quite a bit of it. Xitang frowned in private.

She asked with concern, “Have you been eating regular meals?”

Zhao Pingjin lay back down. “Too busy.”

Xitang adjusted his blanket to make him more comfortable. “How long has it been hurting?”

Zhao Pingjin opened his eyes and glanced at her. His vision was also blurry. “More than two weeks.”

All Xitang could hear was her own voice saying, “When you get busy with work, you skip meals? How does Shen Min put up with you as his secretary?”

He closed his eyes in discomfort. “It’s not his fault.”

Xitang responded casually, “Right, who would dare to offend you.”

Zhao Pingjin opened his eyes again. “Can’t you say something nice?”

Xitang, detached, replied, “You should go home. You have a doctor and a nurse there.”

Zhao Pingjin immediately became displeased, propping himself up on the bed. His tone was sharp. “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

Xitang spoke in the same calm tone, “I didn’t intend to.”

Zhao Pingjin’s expression darkened. He suddenly said coldly, “Leave.”

Xitang was stunned.

Zhao Pingjin, angrily, added, “Your things aren’t here. Leave.”

Xitang lifted her chin. “Fine, I’ll leave.”

Zhao Pingjin responded gruffly, “Hurry up.”

Xitang shrugged and walked out. Just as she reached the door, she stopped, turned around, and smiled at Zhao Pingjin on the bed. “Don’t get too sick to recover. Should I call an ambulance for you?”

Zhao Pingjin’s face turned as white as paper, his lips pale and trembling as he shouted, “Huang Xitang, get out!”

Xitang raised her hand and left his room.

Before she had even reached the living room, she heard noise coming from his bedroom. Zhao Pingjin had staggered out of bed, knocking over his water cup, and collapsed in the bathroom, throwing up.

He was kneeling on the bathroom tiles, gasping for air as he vomited, one hand pressed to the ground, the other clutching his stomach.

Even with the heater on, the bathroom floor was still cold.

Xitang walked in. “Can you hold on? How can your stomach handle all this vomiting?”

Zhao Pingjin barely managed to suppress his urge to vomit, keeping his mouth closed and no longer responding to her. Xitang tried to help him up, but he pushed her away. He braced himself against the wall and shakily stood up.

He hadn’t eaten anything all day. His stomach, unused to food, was now painfully reacting to the stimulation.

Xitang saw him collapse back onto the bed, hastily pulling the covers over himself. Inside the blanket, Zhao Pingjin curled up, pressing his hand hard against his stomach, sweat dripping down his forehead, his eyelashes damp, but he didn’t make a sound.

Zhao Pingjin could only feel waves of black fog clouding his vision, his consciousness slowly pulling away from his body. Yet, the sharp pain in his abdomen woke him up. He had no choice but to grit his teeth and endure, over and over again, the endless cycle of torment.

It had been a long time since he had felt this terrible. He almost wished the pain would reach its peak so he could just pass out and be done with it.

Xitang sat on the edge of his bed and finally reached out to pull him into her arms.

Zhao Pingjin, frustrated, pushed her away. “Go away!”

Xitang grabbed his shoulder and felt the sharpness of his shoulder blades through his shirt. She gently pressed her finger against them, pulling him into her arms. “It’s okay, okay? Stop being difficult.”

Zhao Pingjin buried his face in the bed, his voice so weak it was almost inaudible. “I don’t want you to take care of me.”

Xitang tucked the blanket back around him. “I want to take care of you. Just stop talking.”

Zhao Pingjin, covered by the blanket, responded bitterly, “I’m half-dead from this illness, and you’re still making me angry.”

Xitang felt a pang of sorrow in her heart.

She wanted to lower her head and kiss him, but in the next moment, she held herself back. It had been so long, too long, since she had been this close to him. A deep sense of sadness and longing filled her heart.

Xitang’s voice softened, unconsciously filled with tenderness. “I was wrong, okay?”

Zhao Pingjin vaguely felt the tips of her hair brush against his head as she kissed him lightly. Then, her soft but firm arms enveloped him. She shifted slightly on the bed to make him more comfortable, letting him lean into her. Her body gave off a warm, sweet fragrance, the familiar scent of fruit, her soft palm caressing his face. She slipped her hand under the covers and gently massaged his upper abdomen, easing the cramps and sharp pain in his stomach.

Zhao Pingjin lay in her arms, and he felt a great sense of relief. The torturous pain slowly started to ease, and he finally relaxed, falling into a deep sleep.