Xiang Xi was dragged by Cheng Boyan to sit on the sofa. The bump had landed right on his brow bone, and before long, it had already started to swell.

"Put this on it," Cheng Boyan brought over a small ice pack and placed it on his brow. "Hold it yourself."

"Ay ay ay, damn, this is way too cold, I can't take it," Xiang Xi said, trying to frown but failing—frowning hurt. "I'm fine, it doesn’t even hurt that much, let it swell if it wants to."

"It'll hurt when it swells more. And that tiny band-aid of yours won’t cover it," Cheng Boyan looked at him. "You're so vain—your mohawk's already gone. If half your forehead gets swollen too, can you handle that?"

Xiang Xi thought about it, clicked his tongue, and reluctantly pressed the ice pack to his brow. "Main thing is, I wanted to eat the noodles first. If we wait, they’ll get soggy and taste gross."

"No worries," Cheng Boyan glanced at the two bowls of noodles on the table. "They came out soggy already."

"Wow," Xiang Xi leaned over for a look. "Brother, your cooking skills are really… elite."

"Just eat slowly." Cheng Boyan handed him a pair of chopsticks. "If you think they’re too much... add some water, maybe a splash of soy sauce."

"...I’ll just eat them." Xiang Xi took the chopsticks.

When he took them, his hand brushed against Cheng Boyan’s. Cheng Boyan paused, then suddenly grabbed his hand.

His hand was a bit cold, and his grip strong. The sudden grab startled Xiang Xi, and he tried pulling back a couple times but couldn’t break free. He stared at Cheng Boyan, “Brother… Dr. Cheng… what are you doing?”

Cheng Boyan didn’t answer. He pressed Xiang Xi’s palm, then reached out and felt his forehead before finally letting go. He turned and opened a drawer in the cabinet next to them, pulling out a small box.

“You’ve got a fever,” he said, taking out a thermometer and handing it over. “Take your temperature.”

“Oh! You scared me, I thought…” Xiang Xi took the thermometer, let out a sigh of relief, and sat in a chair. “I’ll check after I eat. The noodles are already in this sad state—by the time I’m done checking, even someone like me won’t be able to eat them.”

“Check it now,” Cheng Boyan said simply. He sat across from him and started eating. After a couple bites, he added, “No one could eat these noodles at this point anyway.”

“I’m not that picky,” Xiang Xi tucked the thermometer under his left armpit and held the ice pack to his head with the same hand, freeing up his right hand to eat. “Brother, your place is so high-end. Why are you still using this old-school thermometer? Don’t hospitals use those gun-shaped ones now? Just point at the forehead and bang—you get the temp.”

“Mercury ones are more accurate.” Cheng Boyan only had a few bites before setting down his chopsticks.

Xiang Xi looked at him and figured the noodles must’ve been too awful even for the chef himself to finish. The cooking really was… beyond redemption.

But for Xiang Xi, he could finish them just fine. He’d grown up eating whatever was available. If Uncle Ping was in a bad mood, going without food for a few days was normal. So just having food was enough—flavour was optional. Like he was born without taste buds.

The noodles were a bit rough texture-wise, but the seasoning was okay, and there was a lot of sausage, so it wasn’t bad overall.

When he finished, Xiang Xi set down the chopsticks and wiped his mouth. “Pretty good, honestly. Turning soup noodles into dry ones? That takes talent.”

“Let me see your temperature,” Cheng Boyan reached for the thermometer. Xiang Xi took it out and handed it to him. He glanced at it and raised an eyebrow. “You’re something else—got a 38°C fever and still eating with such an appetite.”

“38? Is that high? What’s normal?” Xiang Xi touched his own forehead, but couldn’t really tell.

“36.5,” Cheng Boyan answered. “You don’t even know what normal body temperature is?”

“There’s a lot I don’t know,” Xiang Xi said nonchalantly. “Never had a fever before… and if I did, probably no one noticed.”

“Come to the hospital with me,” Cheng Boyan stood up. “Any pain in your legs?”

“Nope,” Xiang Xi pulled up his pant leg to show him. “Look, good as new.”

“Change clothes, we’re going,” Cheng Boyan started clearing the dishes. “You’re not even coughing, but you’ve got a fever out of nowhere. Gotta get it checked.”

“I… I don’t think that’s necessary,” Xiang Xi hesitated. Just hearing the word “hospital” made him think about how much money he owed Cheng Boyan. Seeing a doctor was expensive, and he couldn’t bear to spend the money. “I was coughing a while ago and it went away on its own.”

“Coughing?” Cheng Boyan looked at him. “When?”

“Just before I came here. Coughed for like half a month, but it wasn’t serious, then it just stopped,” Xiang Xi said. “I’m tough, grew up that way. Little stuff like this, my body can handle.”

Even though Xiang Xi didn’t feel that sick—nothing compared to smacking his head on the door—he still ended up being dragged to the hospital by Cheng Boyan.

After registering at the front desk, Cheng Boyan had to hurry to work, but gave him instructions: “If they ask you to get scans or medicine, come find me at my office first.”

“Got it.” Xiang Xi nodded.

Today, Cheng Boyan was working outpatient. By early morning, there was already a crowd waiting outside the exam room. He quickly grabbed a pastry from a drawer to munch on. He’d only had a few bites of noodles that morning, and if he didn’t eat something, he wouldn’t last till noon.

Just after changing into his white coat, his first patient came in—a young guy who said he had neck pain, dizziness, and numb hands.

“Doctor, do I have cervical spine issues?” the patient asked nervously.

“Any headaches? How’s your sleep?” Cheng Boyan flipped open the chart and asked while writing.

“Not really headaches, but my sleep’s been bad. I feel kind of groggy,” the patient rubbed his neck. “Does this have to do with lying in bed playing on my phone every night?”

"How exactly were you leaning?" Cheng Boyan glanced at him.

"Just like this..." The man lowered his head and demonstrated. "Like this."

"That’s leaning? You’re practically curling your neck into yourself. You play like that every day?" Cheng Boyan frowned and gestured for the man to sit in the chair in front of him.

"Yeah, I always play like that." The man sat down.

"That’s quite the contorted pose to be so into it," Cheng Boyan chuckled. "How long have you been doing this neck-crunched phone posture?"

"A few months, I guess." The man chuckled too.

"Lean your head back," Cheng Boyan stood up and instructed. "Back. Yeah. Now slowly turn your head to the left… and to the right… Any dizziness?"

"No." The man followed his instructions, rotating his head.

"Now look down, and slowly turn left and right again." Cheng Boyan steadied his head with his hands.

"It hurts a bit," the man said.

Cheng Boyan did a few more tests, then sat back down and began writing in the medical chart. "It's not too serious, but we’ll take an X-ray just to check. And you really need to change the way you use your phone—this posture is terrible for your neck."

After that patient, the next three had orthopaedic injuries. One was an elderly lady who, while crossing the street, kept hesitating—stepping forward, then back, then forward again, unsure whether to go or not. Just when a car came close, she finally decided to cross—and got hit. Thankfully, her son arrived at the hospital without making things difficult for the driver, or else it really could’ve looked like a staged accident.

Close to noon, Cheng Boyan had a brief break and was about to call Xiang Xi to check how his appointment went when an emergency case came in—a high schooler with a fractured ankle.

The kid was wailing loudly, his face soaked—unclear if it was sweat or tears. He grabbed Cheng Boyan’s arm and shouted, "Doctor, help! I’m gonna die! I’m dying! I’m dying!"

"You’re a grown kid, pull it together," Cheng Boyan pried off his hand and signaled the nurse to move him onto the treatment bed. "It’s just a broken ankle. Anyone listening might think you broke your neck."

"If my neck was broken, could I still be screaming?" the kid paused his wailing and asked.

"No idea. Never had a broken neck," Cheng Boyan said, checking his ankle. The pant leg had already been cut open. "It’s not serious—definitely not bad enough to justify all that yelling, got it?"

"...Oh," the kid looked down at it, then started yelling again, "This isn’t serious?! It hurts like hell!"

Cheng Boyan said nothing, just looked over the X-ray the nurse handed him. It reminded him of Xiang Xi’s scans from back then. If this kid had suffered what Xiang Xi did, he probably would’ve passed out from screaming—or just passed out from lack of oxygen.

People really are different. From admission to discharge, Xiang Xi barely complained once about pain or discomfort. Compared to these kids who were coddled like delicate flowers, Xiang Xi was more like wild grass that could grow anywhere, water or no water. Stark contrast.

After finally handling all the patients, Cheng Boyan had a moment to rest. As he stepped out of the clinic, his lower back ached badly.

He pulled out his phone, about to call Xiang Xi’s crappy number, when he looked up and saw Xiang Xi—and froze.

Xiang Xi was asleep in the corner of the last row of benches, leaning against the wall. A large bag of scan films was on the chair next to him.

Cheng Boyan walked over and saw the tension in his brow but didn’t wake him. He picked up the film envelope and pulled one out for a look—it was a chest CT.

Inflammation?

As he reached for the medical chart in Xiang Xi’s hand, Xiang Xi opened his eyes and quickly pulled his hand back, then stood up at once, wearing a clear "don’t f*cking mess with me" expression.

But when he saw it was Cheng Boyan in front of him, he plopped right back down on the bench and leaned against the wall again. "You done with work, brother?"

"What did the doctor say?" Cheng Boyan touched his forehead—it was still hot.

"Something about pneumonia in the… right lobe or something. A few injections, some meds, nothing serious. They said it’s early, so it's not bad." Xiang Xi smiled.

"Didn’t I tell you to come find me before doing the scans or getting medicine?" Cheng Boyan said.

"I did come," Xiang Xi rubbed his nose. "But when I got here, it sounded like a warzone in your office. That guy inside was screaming so loud it gave me liver tremors, so I just went for the scans myself."

"You get the meds yet?" Cheng Boyan asked.

"Yeah, I got them. I was just waiting for you to finish so I could tell you before going for the injections." Xiang Xi smiled again.

“Let me take a look at the form.” Cheng Boyan looked at Xiang Xi’s face, slightly flushed from the fever, and felt a strange softness in his heart.

“You’re an orthopaedist and you’re reading internal medicine stuff now? Can you even understand it?” Xiang Xi stuffed the medical records and everything into his bag. “Brother, you asked me to come find you—was it so you could pay for me? But it doesn’t seem that expensive. Three days of injections and meds—only four or five hundred…”

“Wow, you rolling in cash or what? Four or five hundred doesn’t count as expensive?” Cheng Boyan looked at him.

“After three days, I’ll be fine,” Xiang Xi said with a snap of his fingers and a grin. “I’m telling you, I may be skinny, but my body’s strong.”

“Go wait in the injection room,” Cheng Boyan patted his shoulder. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

“I can get it myself…” Xiang Xi stood up, glanced at Cheng Boyan, then added, “Okay.”

Cheng Boyan came back with bread and milk. After Xiang Xi finished eating, the nurse did a skin test.

“Damn, that hurts,” Xiang Xi frowned, looking at the little bump on his arm. “Why not just give the shot directly? Why go through all this trouble?”

“What if you had an allergic reaction and kicked the bucket?” Cheng Boyan said.

“I’m not allergic. Mantou is always allergic though—spring comes and his whole face breaks out…” Xiang Xi suddenly stopped mid-sentence and stared silently at the little bump on his arm.

“I’ve gotta head back to the clinic,” Cheng Boyan checked the time and handed him a key. “After the shot, just go back and sleep.”

“Mm.” Xiang Xi took the key and nodded.

Cheng Boyan barely had time to do anything else during clinic hours, and today was especially hectic. He’d only managed to grab a few bites for lunch. By around 4 p.m., he was starving. He opened the drawer and found that the last pastry had already been eaten that morning.

After a long, busy day, he finally finished work and saw off the last patient. He changed clothes and called Xiang Xi’s phone while walking out.

It rang for ages but no one picked up. So he hung up and called the home phone—the one for elderly people.

Still no answer. Cheng Boyan frowned. Was he asleep and didn’t hear it?

Instead of heading straight to get his car, he crossed the street to buy a bun from the bakery. He felt a lot better after a few bites.

Then he drove to the supermarket. There were still groceries at home, but since Xiang Xi had both a fever and pneumonia—even if it wasn’t severe—it was best to boost his nutrition.

He called his mom for advice.

“What? That kid has pneumonia too?” his mom sounded surprised.

“I guess he never fully recovered a while ago. But it’s not that serious. What should he be eating?” Cheng Boyan wandered through the supermarket aisles.

“High calories, high vitamins, high protein, semi-liquid food,” his mom said. “If there’s still a fever, he should drink lots of water, eat more fruit, and cut back on fatty foods…”

“…Can’t you just tell me what to cook?” Cheng Boyan sounded helpless.

“Anything but seafood is fine. Lean meat, for example. Lean meat porridge, or honey egg soup—remember that? I made it for you as a kid. Lotus seed and lily stew with meat is also good, but that one’s too complicated for you. Keep it simple—make lean meat and Chinese cabbage soup, use the tender heart of the cabbage…”

His mom rattled off a whole list.

Cheng Boyan wasn’t much of a cook, but he had a good memory. He remembered everything she said and circled the supermarket twice to gather all the ingredients.

He had no idea how it would actually taste, but at least it was food. Besides, Xiang Xi seemed like his taste buds were broken—he’d even eaten that awful breakfast this morning while running a fever.

Back home with a load of groceries, Cheng Boyan rang the doorbell.

He waited a long while, but Xiang Xi didn’t come to open the door. He rang again. Still nothing.

“Xiang Xi?” he called out, a little uneasy, pressing the doorbell repeatedly.

The house remained quiet.

Sleeping too deeply? Passed out?

Cheng Boyan dropped the bags to the ground, pulled out his phone and called while pressing the doorbell nonstop. Inside, he could hear the elderly phone ringing, but Xiang Xi never came to the door.

“What’s going on?” Cheng Boyan called Xiang Xi’s phone again, but it still didn’t go through.

He was just about to call 114 to find a locksmith when the elevator behind him dinged and opened.

Cheng Boyan turned around and saw Xiang Xi running out of the elevator.

“Ahhh—sorry, sorry!” Xiang Xi shouted as he ran. “Brother, how long have you been back?”

“Where did you go?” Cheng Boyan glared at him. “Didn’t I tell you to come home and rest?!”

“I was only out for less than an hour,” Xiang Xi pulled out his key and opened the door, quickly changed his shoes, and hung his jacket in the closet. “When I came back, I saw a job notice at the bus stop. I made a quick call, and they told me to come over. I thought, jobs are hard to find, I can’t miss this chance, so I went.”

“Do you have a hole in your brain?!” Cheng Boyan shouted.

Xiang Xi was startled by his yell and stood frozen in the living room without saying a word.

“You’ve got a fever! Pneumonia! I told you to come back and rest, so rest! What the hell are you doing running around looking for a job right now?! Are you burned out or waterlogged? If you’re waterlogged go to the toilet and drain yourself! Or hang your head out on the balcony to dry in the sun!”

Xiang Xi opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. He lowered his head.

“What, someone trying to kick you out or something?” Cheng Boyan suddenly felt like he couldn’t keep scolding him anymore. He carried the groceries into the kitchen. “Did you take your meds?”

“I did,” Xiang Xi replied from the living room. His voice was soft and obedient.

“Then go lie down. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

Cheng Boyan spent quite a while in the kitchen, washing and chopping all the ingredients he’d need. When he came back to the living room, Xiang Xi had already gone into the bedroom. The door wasn’t closed, and Cheng Boyan could see him curled up under the blanket, facing the wall.

Cheng Boyan brought in a thermometer. “You asleep?”

“No,” Xiang Xi shook his head.

His voice was muffled by the blanket, but Cheng Boyan could still hear the nasal tone in it. After a pause, he bent over and pulled back the blanket a bit. “Were you crying?”

“No,” Xiang Xi quickly pulled the blanket over his head, then peeked out and turned his face toward him. “Why would I cry?”

Cheng Boyan turned on the light and saw his red-rimmed eyes and nose. He clicked his tongue. “It’s obvious. I just scolded you a little and you cried?”

“I just cried a little,” Xiang Xi turned his head awkwardly, a bit embarrassed. “Drank too much water and didn’t want to get up to pee, so I cried it out instead.”

“Take your temperature,” Cheng Boyan chuckled and sat down by the bed. “I wasn’t trying to scold you. But seriously, what if your condition got worse from going out like that?”

“I know, and it’s not that you scolded me and I…” Xiang Xi rubbed his eyes and took the thermometer. “Brother, you don’t know what it’s like for someone like me. I never went to school, can’t read much, don’t know how to do anything… I’m basically illiterate. It’s so hard for me to get a job. I was afraid if I didn’t go today, they wouldn’t want me anymore. I wouldn’t get another chance like this.”

Cheng Boyan looked at him, then sighed after a moment. “What kind of job was it? Did they say they’d hire you?”

“They didn’t say for sure. Just told me to wait for news,” Xiang Xi smiled, eyes full of hope. “It’s a fruit store, looking for someone to watch the shop at night. I think I can do that.”

Such a simple job, and they didn’t even hire him on the spot—just told him to wait. It was probably a no, but Cheng Boyan didn’t say it out loud. He just smiled back. “Then you’d better tell them clearly you can’t work these few days. You need to recover first.”

“I shouldn’t have gone to the hospital. Before I went, I didn’t even feel sick,” Xiang Xi muttered. “But after those IV drips, now I feel weak all over. Hot and uncomfortable.”

“Just lie down and rest.” Cheng Boyan reached under the blanket, took out the thermometer. Xiang Xi was still burning up. “38.3°C. Did the doctor give you fever meds?”

“He did. I took one, but maybe it hasn’t kicked in yet,” Xiang Xi touched his forehead. “I don’t even feel like I have a fever. Doesn’t feel hot.”

“Your brain’s already been boiled and you think you don’t have a fever?” Cheng Boyan stood up. “A fever doesn’t only heat up your forehead. Your hand’s just as hot.”

“Oh, yeah.” Xiang Xi laughed.

“Just rest for now. I’ll go make dinner—Director Xu’s recipe: lean meat porridge and honey egg soup.” Cheng Boyan said as he walked out.

“Brother,” Xiang Xi called softly.

“Yeah?” Cheng Boyan turned back.

Xiang Xi was curled under the blanket, half his face covered, only his eyes showing. A little embarrassed, he said, “Thank you. I didn’t cry because you scolded me. It’s just… it’s the first time in my life someone’s taken care of me when I was sick.”

 

Translator : DarNan