Chapter 31

Su Pu woke again, and the world before him was pure white.

Gradually, it reassembled—he recognized the chandelier, the IV drip, the blanket…

And, sitting at his bedside, the person he cared most about.

He moved slightly, and the face leaned closer, watching him with concern.

“Awake? Don’t move too much—you still haven’t fully broken the fever.”

It was his husband!

Knowing that Li Jichuan was there, Su Pu curled back into the bed, letting himself slowly recall the events before he fainted.

He had gone to Li Jichuan’s colleague’s birthday party.

He had burned the skewers.

And… he had learned that Li Jichuan had a lingering first love.

Even in his wallet, he kept that boy’s photo.

The momentary joy of seeing his husband first thing upon waking was instantly clouded. Su Pu sniffled, trying to stifle his sadness.

Thinking about it rationally, someone as outstanding as Li Jichuan would naturally have thoughts about love, as long as his health wasn’t an issue.

And judging by what Su Pu had seen and felt of his body, there was no issue there.

So, Li Jichuan remaining single all these years could only be because of that first love.

Su Pu had long imagined this possibility.

Li Jichuan would one day find someone he loved completely, someone to grow old with, to share a life of intimacy and companionship.

Right now, the “partner” position was temporarily occupied by Su Pu. Once Li Jichuan’s first love returned, he would step aside.

It was better than being tangled in a complicated relationship, creating friction between Li Jichuan and his first love.

Su Pu comforted himself silently.

At least one of them would have happiness.

That was enough.

“Why are you spacing out the moment you wake up?” Li Jichuan’s gaze fixed on him. “Or is there still somewhere you feel unwell?”

Su Pu weakly shook his head.

Bang—bang—

The incessant sound that had tormented him hadn’t stopped.

Bang—bang—

It hammered at his nerves relentlessly.

Su Pu closed his eyes.

Bang—bang—bang—

On the other side of the curtain, someone was enjoying a meal.

“Honey, you eat the dumplings first. I’ll work on opening the can—it’ll be ready before you finish!”

The man reassured his wife while banging the bottom of a jar against the table corner.

“Can I try?”

Li Jichuan had had enough. He rolled his wheelchair over to the other bedside, doing his utmost to remain patient and polite.

The man initially didn’t believe someone in a wheelchair could help, but still handed over the can.

“Try it. I’ve nearly broken my hands and still couldn’t open this thing. My wife’s so eager to eat…”

The woman forced a pale smile. “Did we disturb you?”

Li Jichuan shook his head lightly.

“My wife has a mild fever, so she’s sensitive to noise. But it’s no problem.”

Hearing this, the couple hurriedly apologized.

Meanwhile, Li Jichuan had deftly opened the can, handing it back to the man.

“Wow, impressive, man!”

The man looked Li Jichuan over, noticing his strong arms and broad shoulders, realizing he’d underestimated him.

Even someone with a disability could be so robust!

“We’ll try to keep it down. The hospital is packed today, couldn’t get a single room… we’ll be considerate,” the man said.

Li Jichuan wasn’t unreasonable and didn’t argue. He nodded politely and returned to Su Pu’s side.

During the brief interruption, Su Pu hadn’t slept; his eyes grew brighter, staring at the curtain between them.

Seeing Li Jichuan return safely, his eyes followed him back to his own bedside.

“Still watching? Quite the gossip, huh?”

Li Jichuan teased, brushing his finger against Su Pu’s nose.

Su Pu blushed, revealing a flash of pink tongue, licking his pale lips.

Rumble—

He hadn’t eaten properly all day.

His cheeks heated again, and he rubbed his stomach awkwardly.

Another fainting spell, dragging Li Jichuan to the hospital, and now he was hungry…

Su Pu blamed himself for being so problematic.

But why was Li Jichuan smiling?

Not out loud, but his whole face radiated warmth.

Su Pu gazed, heart aching yet joyful.

Is this what it feels like to love someone?

“Uh… can you hand me some dumplings?”

A head peeked from the edge of the curtain, smiling kindly.

“My wife wanted the can first, but she hasn’t touched this half of the box. If you don’t mind, you can start with it.”

A lunchbox appeared at the edge of the curtain, dumplings steaming.

Su Pu didn’t respond, just licked his lips.

“How much is it? I’ll pay you.”

Li Jichuan moved closer in his wheelchair, pulling out his phone. “No need—you made it for yourself. Our family already prepared a nutritious meal for her, but it got stuck on the road…”

“Ah, no worries. It’s homemade. My wife only eats dumplings I make. Any filling will do. I just cleaned out our fridge a bit. It’s nothing!”

Li Jichuan hesitated, taking the dumplings. “You made these yourself?”

“Yes. It’s a little tradition of ours: if someone is sick, we eat a meal of homemade dumplings—it’s said to heal any ailment!”

The man chuckled, glancing at the weak Su Pu.

“Hope you get well soon, too!”

Before he realized it, tears were pooling in Su Pu’s eyes.

He nodded vigorously.

In his memories, when he was small, Zhao Qing had once made dumplings for him, before succumbing to hysteria over Su Fengxian.

The woman stood at the kitchen table, delicate fingers pinching and shaping the dough. A perfect dumpling formed in her palm.

She said as she worked, “Aunt Zhang downstairs told me, the word for ‘dumpling’ sounds like ‘call’—maybe eating more will help you speak properly…”

“Alright, into the pot. Eat my dumplings, and my son will grow up safe and happy!”

Perhaps his high fever had heightened his senses. Eating the dumplings, Su Pu’s tears flowed uncontrollably, streaming down his face.

Li Jichuan had been surprised to see the usually indifferent little mute suddenly eat with such interest.

But watching more closely, he noticed drops hitting the table.

He was startled.

Was it really that good?

Li Jichuan grabbed two napkins, dabbing at the corners of his eyes.

“If it’s good, next time I’ll have Mantian make them for you every day…”

But Su Pu’s tears wouldn’t stop.

Drip… drip… at some moments, Li Jichuan felt as if his heart could be pierced by those few lines of tears.

“Why is it that the more I talk, the more you cry…”

Li Jichuan was flustered, helplessly wiping his tears.

“Man, I don’t think he’s crying because of what you said…”

Li Jichuan glanced at the man offering commentary but ignored him.

The man continued explaining.

“I think he’s crying because he wanted to eat dumplings made by you.”

Li Jichuan paused, dabbing Su Pu’s tears, suddenly realizing:

“Of course, dumplings only taste good when made by someone you like!”

The man winked at him. “Just saying… take it as a reference.”