Chapter 109

In the past two years, Qi Xu’s health had been carefully maintained by Xie Huai and the old master, with a daily herbal tonic that could revive even the dead—it was nothing short of miraculous.

Of course, when the old master wasn’t watching, Qi Xu and Xie Huai split the tonic in half, with Qi Xu insisting, through a mix of coercion and persuasion, that Xie Huai not tell anyone. How exactly he coerced or persuaded? That was entirely Qi Xu’s business.

A cold wave hit again, dropping temperatures faster than anyone could imagine—worse than being sent to a cold storage.

In previous years, this was the time when Qi Xu would catch a heavy cold, a week-long ordeal. Every year, the seasoned Chinese doctor seemed like a fixed NPC, already preparing herbs in advance, ready for the inevitable.

This year, however, it wasn’t Qi Xu who fell ill, but Xie Huai—the strong and hardy man who rarely even caught a mild cold.

Xie Huai’s illness came suddenly. Just the day before, on Saturday, the two had gone with Xu Yichen and the others to the indoor shooting range. Xie Huai had been impressive, hitting every target. Afterward, he politely declined to chat with anyone and walked straight to Qi Xu, asking if there was a reward.

Qi Xu, exhausted from the previous night’s antics, hadn’t participated in the shooting, serving merely as a mascot. His “reward” was a cold laugh—and a shoe print on his pants.

On Sunday morning, Qi Xu woke up before Xie Huai. He felt warmth radiating from the man’s neck and waist—so hot it was almost suffocating. For a moment, he joked to himself that even if the heating stopped, the human-shaped heater lying next to him wouldn’t freeze.

Qi Xu loved to lie in bed, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. Usually, if he moved, Xie Huai would wrap him tighter. But today was different—Xie Huai hadn’t woken.

Qi Xu immediately checked Xie Huai’s face—scorching hot. He hurriedly got up, shaking him awake: “Huai-ge.”

After calling several times, Xie Huai’s eyes finally opened, bloodshot and heavy with fever. His voice was hoarse as he asked, “You’re awake?”

Qi Xu immediately called their family doctor and placed a damp towel on Xie Huai’s forehead. He checked his temperature, wiped his palms with alcohol to cool him down, pacing back and forth between the bedroom and living room.

When he changed the towel on his forehead, Xie Huai grabbed his hand: “Stop fussing. Go eat breakfast.”

Qi Xu frowned, pressing Xie Huai’s hand back into the blanket: “You’re worried about me? Close your eyes. Rest.”

Xie Huai couldn’t help but smile, clearly enjoying Qi Xu’s bossy care.

The family doctor arrived quickly. Xie Huai’s condition had worsened; his temperature, previously at 39°C, had now soared to nearly 40°C. Signs of dehydration were evident, prompting immediate IV treatment.

Qi Xu realized Xie Huai must have spiked the fever during the night, the time when Qi Xu had been sound asleep.

When the doctor asked if he had taken any medicine, Xie Huai admitted, “Around two or three a.m., I took a cold pill.”

Qi Xu felt his head spin, silently watching the sick man on the bed. Xie Huai raised his hands in mock surrender: “I thought it was just a regular cold. One pill would be fine, so I didn’t wake you.”

Qi Xu placed his hand on the bed: “Don’t move. You need the IV.”

The doctor set up the infusion in the living room while Qi Xu went to cook porridge.

Neither liked outsiders in the home; breakfast was usually prepared by Xie Huai, lunch and dinner sometimes ordered from a chef or eaten out. Qi Xu had only ever cooked once, for Xie Huai’s 19th birthday, and that was it.

Qi Xu, inexperienced with cooking porridge, called Uncle Li for guidance. Uncle Li, worried, even video-called to make sure everything was done correctly. Step by step, Qi Xu managed to cook the porridge safely.

An hour later, the IV finished. The doctor gave instructions and left. Qi Xu brought the porridge to the bedroom. Xie Huai half-sat up, engrossed in his tablet, clearly working.

Qi Xu took the tablet from him: “Are you crazy? You’re sick and still working?”

Xie Huai smiled weakly, admitting, “I am indeed sick.”

Qi Xu was speechless. Even at twenty-eight, he still seemed so childish—though, in truth, he wasn’t all that mature yet.

Xie Huai, looking weak, said, “My muscles ache. I’m so weak I can barely move.” He wiggled the same hand that had grabbed Qi Xu’s ankle just days ago, now soft and harmless.

Qi Xu had never cared for anyone before, but seeing Xie Huai’s dry lips and flushed face, he realized this was a sick person needing care. Sitting at the bedside, he scooped a spoonful of plain porridge: “Eat something light. I added a bit of salt—it should be perfect.”

Xie Huai, without even tasting it, said, “Perfect.”

Qi Xu laughed: “You can taste things at a distance now?”

Xie Huai bit the spoon, swallowing the bland porridge. Qi Xu fed him a few more bites, then let him continue himself.

“After a few spoonfuls, do you feel stronger?” Qi Xu asked.

Xie Huai set the bowl aside: “Qi-ge, did you put some magical elixir in this?”

Qi Xu grinned: “Poison.”

Xie Huai tilted his head in mock despair: “How much time do I have left?”

Qi Xu ran his fingers through his hair, serious: “A lifetime.”

After finishing the porridge, Xie Huai fell back asleep. Qi Xu, still uneasy, returned to work in the room. Just then, Xu Yichen called.

Luckily, Qi Xu had muted all devices before entering the room and quietly answered in the living room.

Xu Yichen, ever the scatterbrain: “Yesterday, you hid Huai after his little stunt? I called a few times and he didn’t pick up.”

Qi Xu replied, “He’s sick, resting in bed.”

Suddenly, a warm hand wrapped around Qi Xu’s waist, pressing a head against his neck.

“Baby.”

Qi Xu froze, unsure whether to hang up or not.

Xu Yichen panicked: “What—what’s that sound? Don’t tell me it’s Huai? The mighty image in my head is ruined—so clingy, I can’t even imagine.”

Xie Huai, hearing the commotion, snatched the phone: “None of your business.”

Xu Yichen: “Not my business? My brother is sick—I should at least check on him! But you don’t even seem sick. Are you faking?”

Xie Huai, eyes closed, inhaled Qi Xu’s scent: “Alone in the room, having some fun. Don’t bother us.”

Xu Yichen: “……”

Fang Qian had gone abroad for a competition. Xu Yichen intended to seek comfort, only to suffer a greater shock. A brother in crisis was useless.

Qi Xu quietly returned to the bedroom, with Xie Huai in his arms, still clingy.

Qi Xu muttered: “When he wakes up, I wonder how he’ll face Xu Yichen.”

Xie Huai, fevered and dazed, acted unpredictably.

After a day of rest, Xie Huai’s fever finally broke. Qi Xu suggested he take leave, but Xie Huai insisted he was fine.

On Monday, they attended class as usual. Xie Huai wore a mask to avoid spreading germs.

In the past two years, Qi Xu often wore a mask. Now, seeing Xie Huai wear it, Li Yan was surprised: “Huai-ge, Qi-ge’s mask is on you? Qi-ge seems healthier, no longer dizzy or feverish this winter.”

Feng Zhenjie, also recently sick, joked: “Did you two swap constitutions?”

Qi Xu propped himself up: “I’ve been strengthening my body. He, on the other hand, hasn’t worn long underwear for two years.”

Finally, Qi Xu had his revenge: Xie Huai, previously teasing him all winter, was forced to wear long underwear as a sick excuse.

“No matter who you are, long underwear must be worn.”

Xie Huai accepted without protest.

Li Yan and Feng Zhenjie laughed heartily. For two years, they hadn’t realized anything unusual, assuming Qi Xu and Xie Huai were just close friends.

Straightforward guys, they interpreted hugs and closeness as normal friendship. Apart from occasionally sharing a bed when Xie Huai’s blanket got wet, they’d never seen intimate gestures.

Xie Huai’s condition worsened slightly after exposure to the cold wind, giving him a mild headache.

After class, Qi Xu accompanied him to the infirmary. Temperature was stable; the school doctor prescribed medicine.

Knowing Xie Huai was sick, Xie’s and Shen’s elders sent nutritious meals, which Qi Xu carried back to the dorm.

As soon as Qi Xu opened the door, Xie Huai scooped him up, clingy in his illness.

Qi Xu held the thermal bag to keep the soup from spilling: “Don’t mess it up.”

Xie Huai trapped him at the desk, echoing their days after Xie Huai’s confession—intimate, teasing, and somehow exhilarating.

“Who was that downstairs?”

Qi Xu set the bag down and hugged him: “Should’ve let you take leave. Your jealousy is messy. Li Yan from the club—he was asking if I was in the dorm. Haven’t you met him before?”

Xie Huai insisted, “Don’t remember.”

Qi Xu teased his neck: “Getting sick makes your memory decline. Better prepare now, or in old age you might even forget me.”

Xie Huai replied: “Never. Not in two lifetimes.”

Qi Xu leaned in for a kiss; Xie Huai turned aside: “I’m sick.”

Qi Xu threatened: no cuddling at night if he kept pretending.

Xie Huai reluctantly leaned in, shifting between teasing and closeness.

Just then, the dorm door opened. Li Yan peeked in, startled by the scene.

Bang! Feng Zhenjie was also shocked: “What the hell?”

Li Yan, catching his breath: “Ah—we’re back.”

People in the hallway noticed. Feng Zhenjie pushed Li Yan inside, closing the door efficiently.

Qi Xu and Xie Huai hadn’t done anything inappropriate, yet both were breathing fast, unexpectedly in sync.

Xie Huai finally declared: “We’re together.”

Qi Xu was speechless.

Li Yan and Feng Zhenjie exchanged glances, summarizing: “So… dating means a meal?”

Qi Xu could only sigh.

Author’s note:
College students think about food above all else.