TSDT - 16

Jiang Ying rang the doorbell for a long time before Meng Jingshu slowly came to open the door.

He had clearly just gotten out of bed, dressed in home clothes, his hair messy, his thick, sword-like eyebrows furrowed into two vertical lines between them. His double eyelids weren’t wide; when he squinted, his thin eyelids covered a small portion of his dark pupils, making him look rather unapproachable.

He coughed twice and asked her, “Why are you here?”

Jiang Ying changed her shoes and said frankly, “To visit you, of course.”

He asked strangely, “The security guard let you in?”

Jiang Ying: “I told him that Mr. Meng from 1702 had fainted from illness and I had to check on him, so he let me in.”

“...” Meng Jingshu said flatly, “It’s not that serious.”

After a sleep, the burning sensation in his throat was even more apparent. Speaking a few words felt like being pulled and stretched, very dry and painful.

Meng Jingshu went to the fridge to get water. Jiang Ying followed him into the dining room. On the table sat a sashimi boat, its ice still not fully melted, containing a few abandoned slices of raw fish. The salmon, stripped of its dreams, lay submerged in the ice water.

He turned, his eyes glazed, and twisted open a bottle of mineral water. The cold bottle was covered in mist, and his palm wiped a clear print on it.

Jiang Ying: “...”

Impressive.

The cold water bottle was unexpectedly snatched away. Meng Jingshu’s hand felt empty, and his eyes followed it.

Jiang Ying twisted the cap on: “You shouldn’t drink cold water now.”

Meng Jingshu was spiritless, conserving his words: “Hot.”

Jiang Ying handed the water bottle back to him: “Find a towel to wrap it, and put it on your neck.”

Meng Jingshu took it, holding it in his hand, several times wanting to open his mouth to refute her, but he gave up. He switched the bottle to his other hand; it was cool. He uttered in a low voice: “Thirsty.”

Jiang Ying turned on the water dispenser to heat. She told him, “Wait a few minutes. Did you take your medicine?”

Meng Jingshu’s eyelids drooped. He went to the sofa to sit down, the water bottle resting behind his neck as he leaned back: “No.”

The cough medicine was from yesterday. As for fever medicine... he didn’t feel like he had a fever.

Jiang Ying asked, “Where’s the medicine?”

He pointed to a cabinet, and Jiang Ying went to rummage through it.

He then said, “Hungry.”

Jiang Ying: “...”

This guy was probably an ancestor.

She found a few boxes of medicine and placed them on the coffee table, then pulled out a thermometer for him: “Take your temperature. If it’s too high, you’ll have to go to the hospital.”

Meng Jingshu closed his eyes, feigning death.

Jiang Ying was speechless. If he didn’t cooperate, she couldn’t just shove it under his armpit, could she?

She placed the back of her hand on his forehead, feeling it wasn’t much warmer than her own. Then she touched his neck with her other hand; it was similar, just a low fever. So she didn’t force him to take his temperature.

He was touched a few times like that and felt a bit uncomfortable, opening his eyes to look at her.

Perhaps due to the fever, his eyes were a little red. His face was tilted up, his bangs messy, and the sharp lines of his face were softened, making him look a bit innocent.

Squinting down, and looking up with lowered eyes, they were completely different people.

Jiang Ying smiled and asked him, “When did you eat?”

He was quiet for two seconds, then said, “Noon.”

As expected.

Jiang Ying sighed, nodded, and turned to pour him a cup of warm water: “Have some water first. Bear with the hunger for a while, you need to eat something before taking medicine.”

She busied herself in the kitchen for a while, then came out with a bowl of mushroom and lean meat congee and a small plate of broccoli. She looked up and met Meng Jingshu’s gaze. She raised her chin, signaling him to come over and eat.

Young Master Meng was not feeling well, but his sense of taste was not off duty.

He took a bite of the congee and said, “Bland.”

Jiang Ying said, “You need to eat light food when you have a fever.”

He ate a piece of broccoli and frowned: “Tastes bad.”

Of course, it wouldn’t taste great; it was boiled in plain water with no seasoning. But he was sick and still torturing himself like this, and now he even dared to be picky with her?

Jiang Ying said coolly, “Then don’t eat it, I’ll just pour it out later.”

After saying that, she busied herself with her phone, no longer paying him any attention.

Meng Jingshu was left hanging. Her silence gave him a sense of boundary-setting. It was very unfamiliar and also subtle.

He had been picky since childhood. His family would always gently coax him, but he would ignore them, and they had no choice, at most scolding him a few times before letting him have his way. Even with his previous girlfriends, they accommodated him in every way. No one had ever so coldly thrown a choice at him.

If you follow my lead, that’s just how it is.

If you don’t listen, I can’t be bothered with you.

Sometimes, “I’m ignoring you now” was the greatest punishment.

Before... she wasn’t like this.

Last time, she didn’t even put in green onions because he didn’t like them...

He inhaled, feeling a mix of emotions churning in his throat, a sense of unwillingness and reluctance, but seemingly more than just those negative feelings.

In the end, he said nothing, silently eating everything bite by bite. It tasted like chewing wax, but his stomach did feel a bit more comfortable.

He said in a low voice, “I’m done eating.”

Jiang Ying’s expression instantly changed. She put down her phone and said, “Great! Now you can take your medicine.”

Meng Jingshu was speechless.

Was she treating him like a child?

Jiang Ying, according to his symptoms, picked out a few strips of medicine from the box for Meng Jingshu. He didn’t even look at them, just popped a few red and yellow pills as she instructed and swallowed them with warm water.

Watching her clear the table, he said, “Leave it. The helper will take care of it tomorrow.”

Jiang Ying said, “It bothers me to see it.”

His eyes followed her back, and he added, “Stay here tonight. I can’t drive you.”

It was getting late, so Jiang Ying hadn’t planned on leaving, but hearing him say that, she still hesitated reservedly: “Oh... alright then.”

With a full stomach and medicine taken, drowsiness quickly swept over him. Meng Jingshu hastily washed up. When he came out, Jiang Ying had just finished and was heading in.

He had washed his face, and his skin was still a bit damp. Somehow, his hair seemed even messier, looking fluffy. Although his sullen expression was a bit grumpy, she still really wanted to rub it...

She remembered a popular term from high school: ‘tiger-pet-dog-head’ (gently patting someone’s head).

So she suppressed a smile, reached out a paw... but ultimately didn’t dare to be presumptuous, and feigned a touch on his forehead. As she moved her hand away, she secretly brushed against the hair on one side of his head. It felt good.

She said seriously, “You don’t seem as warm as before.”

He looked at her: “Is that so?”

His voice when he was sick was much lower than usual. She felt a jolt in her chest and silently shifted her gaze.

Jiang Ying: “Maybe... the medicine is starting to work, but usually fever recurs...”

What kind of illogical common sense was that?

He was terribly sleepy and didn’t pay attention to what she was saying, just let out a low “hmm.”

Meng Jingshu didn’t arrange a guest room for her like last time. Jiang Ying didn’t bring it up either; some things were just understood. Both of them were in the master bedroom. Meng Jingshu casually closed the door, fell onto the bed, and immediately fell asleep, completely oblivious to having a guest beside him.

Jiang Ying was also a bit sleepy. She lay on the other side of the bed, scrolled on her phone for a while, and then also fell asleep.