YABE - 22

Jiang Xu’s tone was calm, his eyes quietly fixed on her.

One sentence had nailed Wen Siyu to the spot.

The low, hoarse voice sent a tremor through her heart.

She was a bit surprised and called out to him: “Teacher Jiang? What are you doing here?”

Jiang Xu didn’t answer, only gazing at her with a heavy look in his eyes: “You didn’t reply to me.”

Wen Siyu tilted her head up to look at him, opening her mouth hesitantly: “Are you done filming?”

“Mm.”

“Why didn’t you reply to me?” he repeated stubbornly, as if determined to get an answer.

Wen Siyu felt at a loss, unsure how to respond.

The man’s long lashes cast shadows over his face. In the dim light, she faintly noticed a hint of bluish exhaustion beneath his eyes.

“You didn’t reply to me—” he spoke slowly, deliberately, “Is it because you have someone you like now?”

Wen Siyu froze.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

He asked.

“Are you going to be with him?”

“Did you not reply to my messages because you like him?”

His barrage of questions came one after another, repeating many times, almost incoherently.

Finally, Wen Siyu realized that something about the man seemed off today.

“Teacher Jiang, are you feeling unwell?” she asked cautiously, her voice tentative.

The man blinked very, very slowly after hearing her question.

“Yes,” he nodded, raising his right hand to press it against his chest. “Here, it feels unwell. If you have someone you like, then I’ve lost you.”

With a sudden boom , Wen Siyu felt something inside her explode.

Flustered, she looked at him helplessly: “…I don’t…”

“You don’t what?” He took a step closer.

The girl couldn’t speak, only staring at him blankly.

He took another step forward, leaning down, closing the distance between them. Even through the mask, she could feel his breath.

“You don’t what?” he asked in a low, hoarse voice.

This sudden closeness made Wen Siyu’s heart race as if a thousand horses were galloping through it, bringing a fine, intricate panic.

Seeing this, Jiang Xu sighed, straightened up, and took a step back. “Sorry.”

The intense pressure lifted, and Wen Siyu hesitated for a moment before tiptoeing to place her hand on the man’s forehead.

An abnormally scorching heat climbed up her palm, frighteningly hot.

So he really did have a fever.

The man’s forehead was slick with fine sweat, and the corners of his eyes, along with the whites, were tinged with red.

Wen Siyu frowned in concern, leaning closer to examine him: “Teacher Jiang, you have a fever.”

Jiang Xu hummed softly: “I feel a bit cold, but also a bit hot.”

When sick, the man became somewhat absent-minded. Wen Siyu found it both amusing and worrying to watch him.

“Teacher Jiang, you need to go home, take your medicine, and rest. Do you have any fever reducers at home?”

Jiang Xu nodded.

Then, as if suddenly realizing something, he frowned: “Are you planning to let me go home alone?”

He looked at her, calmly accusing: “You’re not going to take care of me.”

“No, no, I absolutely plan to take care of you!” Wen Siyu quickly denied.

“I’m sick, and you won’t take care of me?” he emphasized again.

Like a child, a bit childish, a bit shameless—Wen Siyu was at a loss and could only soothe him: “Then wait here while I grab my wallet, and I’ll take you home.”

“No, I have money. You come with me.”

Wen Siyu sighed, speaking gently: “Alright, I’ll go with you.”

—I’ll go with you.

Her words left Jiang Xu rooted to the spot.

In his slightly feverish, hazy mind, some emotion was being pulled taut.

The man smiled.

The next second, he reached out, grasped her wrist, and pulled her toward the school gate.

Outside the school, Wen Siyu hailed a cab. Jiang Xu slowly recited an address—a high-end residential complex with steep rent, not far from her school, about a twenty-minute drive.

When they arrived at the building, Jiang Xu pulled a wallet from the front pocket of his black hoodie and tossed it to Wen Siyu.

After a moment, she opened it to pay.

Jiang Xu’s apartment was on the 17th floor, equipped with an electronic lock and a small duplex layout.

Each floor had only two units, and the doors were positioned opposite each other around the elevator, offering excellent privacy but feeling a bit cold and lacking warmth.

The man kicked off his shoes upon entering, removed his mask as he walked further in, and entered the bedroom, sitting weakly on the bed, his head drooping like a small animal.

Wen Siyu followed, crouching down to raise her arm and once again placing her hand on his forehead.

It felt even hotter than before.

The girl knelt in front of him, her pale, clean face full of concern. She raised her arm, her soft, cool hand pressing against his forehead—it felt soothing.

Jiang Xu lifted his eyelashes, gazing at her intently.

Suddenly, he raised his arm, his large hand capturing her cool fingers, moving them from his forehead downward, brushing against his lips.

His burning, scorching lips kissed her cool fingertips.

His hands were also hot, his palms radiating warmth. Wen Siyu’s hand was caught in between, unable to retreat.

He sat on the edge of the bed, and she knelt on the ground, her head level with his waist, looking up at him from between his legs. Their posture felt oddly inappropriate.

Wen Siyu’s heart pounded wildly.

She forced herself to calm down and stammered: “…Teacher Jiang, where are the fever reducers and thermometer?”

“In the cabinet below the TV,” Jiang Xu said, his lips parting and grazing her fingertips.

Wen Siyu felt her fingers begin to heat up, as if infected by him.

Quickly withdrawing her hand, she went to fetch the first aid kit from the living room, then headed to the kitchen to boil water. Returning with the kit, she found the man lying flat on the bed, leaning against the headboard with his eyes closed, beads of sweat forming on his temples.

Wen Siyu sat beside him on the bed, placed the kit on the bedside table, and retrieved the thermometer, speaking softly: “Teacher Jiang, let me take your temperature.”

Jiang Xu opened his eyes, hummed in acknowledgment, and then raised both arms.

Wen Siyu paused, understanding: “Teacher Jiang, in my family, we always put it under the tongue.”

“I always use it under my armpit,” Jiang Xu insisted weakly, his arms still raised, his gaze steady.

Wen Siyu was at a loss, holding the thermometer hesitantly: “Then can you do it yourself?”

“No,” he refused firmly. “My hands are weak—you do it for me.”

“…”

Wen Siyu internally: @#￥%&*

The girl took a deep breath, biting her lip as she found the edge of his hoodie near his waist. With her left hand holding the thermometer, she slipped her cool fingers inside, inevitably brushing against his hard abs and chest muscles—the scorching heat made her fingers tremble.

Once she placed the thermometer, the man obediently held it in place, blinking and letting out a low chuckle.

His laughter was deep and raspy.

“Your ears are red—it seems you’re sick too.”

Wen Siyu’s face instantly flushed crimson. Leaving behind a hurried “I’ll go get some water,” she swiftly stood and rushed out of the bedroom.

A moment later, she returned with a glass of water. Jiang Xu watched her place the cup on the bedside table and reminded her: “I’m done.”

He then looked at her expectantly.

Wen Siyu’s ears, which had just calmed, turned red again. Puffing up her cheeks, she said: “Take it out yourself!”

Jiang Xu wanted to laugh but thought better of it, obediently replying with an “Oh” and removing the thermometer himself, handing it over.

Wen Siyu took it and glanced at the mercury column. Her face paled—it read 40 degrees Celsius.

No wonder he was acting strange.

She looked at him anxiously: “Teacher Jiang, should we go to the hospital?”

“No,” he replied hoarsely, dismissively. “Just take some fever reducers and sleep it off.”

Wen Siyu rummaged through the kit, pulling out fever reducers and anti-inflammatory pills. She placed two tablets in her palm, brought over the water, and held it to his lips.

Jiang Xu silently watched, wanting to say, “Feed me.”

In the end, he refrained, taking the pills and drinking some water.

The water was a bit hot, and he furrowed his brow, attempting to push it away. Mid-action, he saw the girl staring at him sternly.

The man feigned pitifulness: “It’s too hot.”

“A little heat will make you sweat. Drink the whole cup.” Wen Siyu, having figured out his tricks, remained unmoved, her tone firm and不容置疑 (unyielding).

Seeing no room for negotiation, Jiang Xu reluctantly drank the water.

While he drank, Wen Siyu returned with a basin of water, two towels soaking inside.

She wrung one out and placed it on his forehead. The man clutched the water cup, half-reclining by the window, drinking painfully and slowly. A white towel rested on his head as he quietly watched her, his weakened appearance looking both docile and harmless.

The girl bent over, her sleeves rolled up, revealing a stretch of pale, tender arm. Her long lashes hung low, giving her a soft,绒绒 (fluffy) look.

Jiang Xu’s already parched throat felt even worse. “I want to take off my clothes.”

The words that came out of his mouth were anything but innocent.

Wen Siyu nearly choked on her saliva, her big eyes widening as she stared at him.

“The clothes are too thick,” he said quietly, his lashes trembling. “It’s uncomfortable.”

Wen Siyu wondered if his fever had fried some part of his brain.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m still here.”

“Why does it matter if you’re here?”

“Because I’m a girl.”

Jiang Xu found his current behavior laughably childish.

But he didn’t want to stop himself.

That day, Never Look Back wrapped filming. He had used his fever as an excuse to skip the celebratory dinner.

The previous night, during the final rain scene, Jiang Xu had filmed all night, drenched in rain for hours, with seven retakes.

The reason?

The Weibo post he had seen earlier that afternoon.

The boy in the white shirt gently stroking the girl’s hair, his eyes filled with adoration.

Such a pure, beautiful, and perfectly matched pair.

Jiang Xu’s mindset had shattered.

A man nearing thirty, his mind filled with pale, impulsive thoughts. His only desire was to find her.

To ask her what was going on.

To know if she truly had someone she liked.

To hear her say, with her own lips, whether she truly didn’t want him anymore.

In the quiet, dim room, Jiang Xu suddenly fell silent. After a while, he lowered his eyelashes and returned to his original question: “Do you have someone you like now? That campus prince from Weibo? Do you like him?”

Wen Siyu let out a startled sound, quickly denying: “No, I don’t like him.”

“You don’t like him?” he repeated slowly, pausing before asking, “Then… do you like me?”

Wen Siyu froze, unable to speak.

“Do you like me?”

The air was silent. The man’s presence was warm, his voice hoarse, his eyes dark and deep.

After a moment, he smiled.

“You like me,” he murmured, licking his chapped lips.

“If you like me, and I like you, then why can’t I take off my clothes?”

She heard him say.

“I don’t just want to take off my clothes—I also want to kiss you.”