Qi Ji had been running a fever for a while.
He wasn’t exactly sure where he was—he could only feel the ache coursing through his body. He vaguely realized he should be asleep, but even with his eyes closed, the darkness before him swirled endlessly, as if dragging him into a powerful vortex. His head spun, leaving him dizzy and disoriented, with no end in sight.
A faint, constant hum, like electricity, whispered in his ears, pushing him closer to the edge of despair. Whether asleep or briefly conscious, the unbearable vertigo clung to him relentlessly.
The half-dream, half-awake dizziness came with a pounding headache. His temples throbbed, each beat sending sharp shocks to the back of his head. At his forehead, it felt like tiny silver needles were pressing and probing inward, unyielding. The pain was almost impossible to bear—but compared to the agony in his body, it seemed almost tolerable.
His body felt like it was being roasted alive. He could almost sense steam rising off himself, drained of all strength, each breath a monumental effort.
The only comfort came from a single, familiar scent, tinged with sunlight—a trace of warmth that felt like home.
And yet, for some reason, even that fragile comfort seemed to have slipped away, leaving him grasping at nothing. Qi Ji felt disoriented, wanting to follow it, but unable to move.
He instinctively reached for his right wrist, hoping to draw some solace from the bracelet his father had made for him. But no matter how hard he tried, his fingers couldn’t find the slightly thick cord.
“Ugh…!”
The sudden absence of the bracelet startled him fully awake.
He wasn’t completely alert yet, and waking his body proved even harder. Opening his sore, swollen eyes took immense effort. The first thing he did was check his right wrist, but despite staring at it through blurred vision again and again, nothing had changed.
The bracelet was gone.
It felt as if a piece of his chest had been ripped away, leaving cold emptiness behind. The one thing that had made him feel safe was gone. Qi Ji stared at his bare wrist in a daze for a long while, unable to comprehend.
Where had the bracelet gone…?
He looked around, hoping to spot a familiar place where it might be, but when he lifted his gaze, he was met with a dazzling white. The brightness made his head spin slightly.
The fluffy blanket beneath him shone with the freshness of just-washed fabric, exuding the subtle scent of newly laundered cloth. This wasn’t the cramped room he knew.
The bed he lay on was enormous—big enough to roll around freely—and the bedroom itself was spacious, larger than the entire house he normally lived in.
Yet, in this room, big enough for a crowd to have a party, he was alone. Pressing his throbbing temples, he realized he had never seen this furniture or layout before.
Where… was he?
The door to the room was open, and faint sounds came from outside—like water.
Qi Ji shivered involuntarily.
His head hurt so much… He didn’t know where he was, but he had to get out.
The bed was too high. Even when he tried to stretch his body across it, his feet couldn’t reach the edge. His exhausted body couldn’t lift itself efficiently, and by the time he finally dragged himself to the side, he had no strength left to stand.
The room swirled around him; he misjudged the edge and tumbled to the floor.
“Thud!”
His fall made a dull sound on the wooden floor. Luckily, the blanket still wrapped around him, and a thin rug cushioned the impact.
Still, Qi Ji felt his world spinning; it took a long while before he could even register what had happened. His forehead throbbed relentlessly, and everything before his eyes seemed dreamlike, blurring the line between reality and hallucination.
The internal pain in his body, ever-present, didn’t help. He struggled repeatedly, unable even to lift his torso, let alone stand.
An inexplicable fire burned within him, rising to his chest. A faint tingling, like residual electric shocks, sparked intermittently across his weakened body.
He was on the brink of madness from this unending pain—when footsteps came from outside.
A sharp spike of pain shot through his temple. His brain felt as if it might split.
…Who?
Before he could think, a pair of long legs appeared in the doorway. The person walked a few steps toward him, reaching out.
Qi Ji instinctively raised his arms in defense, eyes wide with vigilance.
His body was exhausted; everything blurred before him. His dulled senses couldn’t process clearly, and the throbbing in his head clouded his judgment. Even staring straight at the approaching person, he couldn’t make out the face.
He could only barely tell it was a man.
But even this weak, exhausted body refused to show submission. His gaze was sharp, dangerous. If someone intended harm, he wouldn’t give in.
Perhaps intimidated by his fierceness, the man paused, hand frozen mid-air, not touching him.
Qi Ji was nearly consumed by the restless fire inside him, his body on high alert. His throat was dry and sore, but he managed to croak out, hoarse:
“Don’t touch me.”
The man didn’t respond. He met Qi Ji’s gaze for a long moment, then stepped back and exited the room.
The danger passed, and Qi Ji exhaled without realizing it.
Though the man’s behavior was strange, with his head spinning and body weak, he had no capacity to reason fully—he could only try to address his immediate problem.
After some effort, he freed himself from the cloud-like blanket. Bending down to inspect his body made the dizziness flare anew.
The vertigo was worse than when he had been unconscious. He felt burning and pain, dry and parched, with nowhere to vent it.
After a long while, he managed to suppress the discomfort enough to check himself. The restraints were gone. Though his limbs still bore vivid red marks, the threat of electric shocks had vanished.
He still wore a thin, sheer robe that felt uncomfortable. Pulling at the front, he tried to remove it.
Before he could undo the sash, a gust of wind caught his attention.
He looked up, only to see white.
“…?!”
A large towel had been thrown over his head.
He tried to pull at it, gasping, but before he could grab hold, it enveloped him completely.
He was wrapped tightly, leaving only his slender legs sticking out, and was carried away horizontally.
“Don’t touch me…”
He tried to struggle, but with his upper body trapped, he had no leverage. He tried to kick with his only free legs, but even a slight movement caused his bare leg to brush against firm skin.
“Ugh…!”
The contact sent a shock through him far more intense than electricity, making him shiver all over.
He nearly went limp in the man’s arms.
His rapid breathing heated the air inside the towel. Qi Ji dared not move anymore, stiffly allowing himself to be carried.
Right now, he could not risk direct contact with anyone. Otherwise, the carefully contained effects of the drug would surge uncontrolled, turning him into a puppet of pure desire, void of reason.
His mind rejected it, but his chemically-altered instincts craved it.
Not even having harmed anyone yet, Qi Ji had already drained himself of strength—he had no choice but to stop struggling. He was carried along, and the faint sound of running water gradually became clearer.
Curled up in the towel, he breathed weakly, each step making the approaching water noise pound more painfully in his head.
Even with his consciousness in chaos, Qi Ji knew one thing: the sound of water at this moment could only mean trouble.
“Let… me… go…”
He finally couldn’t bear it any longer, his weak protest coming out in a low, hoarse whisper, like a wounded cub. His throat had long been scorched by the drug; even a few words took effort.
“Don’t move.”
A low, magnetic male voice cut through the air. For some reason, Qi Ji felt an odd sense of familiarity in it.
Who…?
Before he could think, the water was at his ears. His body dropped slightly, and in the next second, cold water lapped over his bare ankles.
He was being lowered into a bathtub filled with water, and the towel was whisked away. The water was clear, and the tub was large—his arms couldn’t even reach the edges.
The scene was risky, far from safe for a solo bath.
Qi Ji’s first reaction was to lift his head cautiously, searching for the person who had brought him here.
Half-submerged, the cold hit him before he could even see clearly, making him shiver violently.
It was freezing.
This person had given him a cold bath.
He lifted his fever-flushed eyes and finally saw the man standing at the edge, looking down at him.
His muddled thoughts wavered. This person hadn’t gotten in, and he’d used cold water—was this supposed to counteract the drug?
Maybe… it would help.
The man seemed to be doing something good. Perhaps he wasn’t a threat. Qi Ji tried again to study the face, squinting with a serious, probing gaze.
But he still couldn’t recognize him.
Instead, when Qi Ji glared at him with that sharp, wary expression, the man had abruptly closed his mouth, a faint, inexplicable look flashing across his handsome features.
Qi Ji couldn’t even recognize faces clearly, let alone read expressions. He missed the subtle hint of the man’s helplessness entirely.
The man didn’t linger at the tub’s edge for long. He stepped back a few paces, disappearing behind the glass partition.
Qi Ji coughed twice, dabbing at his nose. He wanted to wipe the water from his face, but as his hands touched the droplets, more seemed to appear, spreading across his cheeks.
Suddenly, a “whir” sounded, and something shifted beneath him. Qi Ji flinched, trying to move—but a wide, soft surface held him firmly.
He realized the bathtub’s recliner had risen.
Ergonomically designed, the recliner’s curves and texture were perfectly comfortable. Leaning against it, Qi Ji no longer had to support his own body, and the relief was immediate.
But before he could fully appreciate the comfort, he heard the man’s voice.
“Qi Ji.”
Because of his earlier gaze, the man didn’t come closer. From a measured distance, he asked, “Can you handle this yourself?”
Qi Ji furrowed his brow. He didn’t understand the second part but clearly heard his name.
A sharp pain throbbed at his temples. He coughed hoarsely, voice cracking, “Do… you… know me?”
The man paused, a subtle shift crossing his expression.
He asked back, “You don’t recognize me?”
Qi Ji tried for the third time, failing again. The headache worsened, feeling as if his skull would split. The restrained fire inside him scorched all rational thought, leaving him unable to think.
Why… can’t I remember…
Pressing his hands to his temples, Qi Ji tried to suppress the gnawing pain. Water ran down his palms onto his face, hiding the mist forming in his eyes.
So much pain… and heat…
Even the cold bath seemed blurred with the steam rising from his fevered body.
A low, deep voice sounded by his ear, calm but commanding, like a hand pulling him out of the chaos of pain.
Qi Ji looked up, dazed, his eyes still misted with tears.
Before he could reply, the man had come closer to the tub.
“We need to deal with the most important thing first,” he said patiently, repeating the question, “You’ve been drugged. Can you manage this yourself?”
Qi Ji shivered involuntarily. Only now did he understand.
Drugged.
His muddled thoughts collided with the awful memory. Darkness flickered before his eyes, his chest tightening.
Just when he felt like he couldn’t breathe, the man suddenly crouched by the tub.
One knee lowered, an arm resting on the other knee, sleeve rolled to the elbow, revealing a firm, toned forearm.
He had been watching Qi Ji all along. Now, closer, his light-colored eyes pressed down on him with an intensity that left Qi Ji flustered.
With no answer to the previous question, the man offered another suggestion.
Within reach, his voice reached Qi Ji before his hand did. The low, magnetic tone, drawing nearer, sent a tingling warmth up Qi Ji’s ears.
“Or… do you need help?”