Chapter 35

The man patted his back and comforted him gently, saying, “Had a bad dream, did you? It’s okay; dreams are just illusions…”

However, it seemed that Fan Xing hadn’t heard anything. He stood up and rushed to the sink to splash his face with cold water. He had evidently forgotten about the injuries on his face and vigorously scrubbed it with his hands, as if trying to calm himself down.

He Qingmo then took him by the shoulders and said with concern, “Fan Xing, look at me.”

The child, lost in his own world, slowly raised his head to look at him. His clear eyes were filled with confusion, as if he didn’t even recognize He Qingmo.

After a while, he gradually regained his senses and softly called out, “Brother,” but his voice still trembled.

He Qingmo gently embraced him, patting his back and speaking soothingly, “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

Perhaps it was the calming effect of the man’s voice, or maybe the familiar scent of He Qingmo gave Fan Xing a sense of security. His tensed body slowly relaxed, and he buried his face in the man’s chest.

He He Qingmold him this way, waiting until Fan Xing’s emotions had settled before softly saying, “Would you like to sleep a bit more?”

Fan Xing’s face was still pressed against He Qingmo’s chest, and he responded with a muffled, “Mm.”

So the man held him and laid back on the bed, with Fan Xing curled up in his arms, clutching his shirt tightly, as if afraid that he would run away if he let go.

He Qingmo leaned down and kissed his forehead gently, reassuring him, “Sleep; I won’t leave.”

While the child eventually fell into a more peaceful slumber, He Qingmo remained wide awake. He had been awake since Fan Xing’s nightmare began, and he had witnessed the child’s helplessness, fear, and panic. He had tried to wake Fan Xing up, but it was futile – Fan Xing was trapped in the nightmare.

He hugged him, attempting to calm him down and provide comfort, but Fan Xing’s cold sweat continued to pour. The child’s voice was full of helplessness as he repeatedly cried out in the local dialect, “Grandma, I’m scared…”

He Qingmo had always known that Fan Xing had a difficult life, but now he realized that he had underestimated just how challenging it had been.

He shook his head lightly, trying to rid himself of the strange feeling, and continued to lie with Fan Xing.

By noon, Fan Xing had developed a fever.

He Qingmo was roused from his light slumber by the surprising warmth emanating from the child in his arms. Fan Xing’s face was flushed, and his breathing was notably labored.

Gently patting Fan Xing’s cheek, He Qingmo said, “Fan Xing, wake up.”

Fan Xing, still groggy, opened his eyes and met the concerned gaze of the man. He felt a bit strange, opened his mouth to speak, but realized that his throat was sore, and his voice came out hoarse.

“You have a fever. Don’t move. I’ll get a thermometer,” He Qingmo told him. He then went to fetch the thermometer and called Dr. Zhang.

Fan Xing lay in bed, staring at the ceiling with a clouded mind. How had he fallen ill? He rarely got sick. However, the raspy sound of his own breathing and the thermometer reading of over 38 degrees indicated that he indeed had a fever.

He Qingmo returned with a damp cloth to cool Fan Xing’s forehead. The private doctor had arrived by now, diagnosed Fan Xing with a fever without any complications, and prescribed some fever-reducing medicine for him to take.

After taking the medicine, Fan Xing quickly fell asleep again. This time, thanks to the effects of the medication, his sleep was deep and peaceful. When he woke up, it was already dark outside.

In the bedroom, only a bedside lamp was turned on, dimmed to its lowest setting. He Qingmo leaned against the bed, checking his email on his phone. One hand was gently resting on Fan Xing’s body, occasionally patting him as if soothing a child to sleep.

Fan Xing didn’t move; he just watched He Qingmo. The man’s profile looked especially comforting, and Fan Xing couldn’t resist shifting closer to him, successfully catching the man’s attention.

He Qingmo turned to look at him and asked, “Are you awake? How are you feeling?” He spoke as he put his phone down and reached over to feel Fan Xing’s temperature on his forehead. The fever had subsided, but He Qingmo remained concerned and retrieved the thermometer. “Let’s take your temperature again.”

Without a word, Fan Xing obediently opened his mouth to take the thermometer.

Indeed, the fever had decreased, and the temperature now read just over 37 degrees.

“It’s still a low-grade fever. Eat something, and then take another dose of medicine,” He Qingmo suggested, as he took Fan Xing’s temperature and set the thermometer aside. He then went to the kitchen to prepare a bowl of millet congee.

Fan Xing was indeed a bit hungry, so when He Qingmo brought the cold congee to his lips, he automatically opened his mouth to take a bite.

He Qingmo asked, “How does it taste?”

Fan Xing looked up at him, sensing a hint of uncertainty in the depths of the man’s eyes.

Fan Xing paused for a moment to understand and then asked, “Did Brother make this?”

The man nodded and persisted, “How does it taste?”

Fan Xing smiled gently, his eyes curved, revealing a shallow dimple on his lips. “It’s delicious. Thank you, Brother.”

His voice was soft, and it carried a hoarse tone due to his illness, making it slightly uncomfortable to listen to. Nevertheless, he smiled.

He Qingmo finally felt relieved, gently ruffled Fan Xing’s hair, and teased him, “Just a ‘thank you’? Is that all you’re going to give me?”

Fan Xing knew how caring He Qingmo had been throughout the day, and he was grateful. A simple “thank you” didn’t feel sufficient, so he obediently asked, “Then what does Brother want…?”

Before he could finish his sentence, the man fed him a spoonful of millet congee to silence him. “That’s enough. A patient should act like a patient. Eat your meal.”

Fan Xing didn’t speak and waited for the man to feed him.

After finishing the bowl of congee, He Qingmo set the bowl aside and brought a glass of water along with fever-reducing medicine. He watched as Fan Xing took the medicine, then gently pressed him back onto the bed. “Rest a bit more.”

He Qingmo took the bowl with him and left the room for a while. When he returned, he sat by the bedside, picked up his phone, and resumed his work.

Despite occasional childish and stubborn moments, He Qingmo was quite serious about his work. He often stayed up late working in his home office, but he almost never brought work into the bedroom.

Today, however, he was making an exception to take care of the sick child.

Fan Xing lay on his side, resting his head on his arm, and observed the man. Suddenly, he recalled what Lu Chi had said the previous night and couldn’t help but ask, “Did Brother also take care of Senior Lu Chi like this?”

 

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