Based on the names of the medicines listed on the takeaway order, Liang Xianzhang no longer hesitated and rang the doorbell of the tightly closed door opposite.

Zhou Yi hadn’t expected to be so seriously ill. He had thought it was just a cold, something he could shake off with rest, but he underestimated how fragile his body was.

In the middle of the night, a fever had set in. The heat from his body woke him up as he slept. As soon as he opened his eyes, dizziness overwhelmed him, and his throat felt like it was on fire. Sweat soaked his new pajamas.

Thirsty, Zhou Yi struggled to get up. He looked around but found no antipyretic medicine in the house—not even a packet of Isatis root powder.

He thought about drinking some warm water, but the water in the kitchen was cold. Wrapped in his quilt and too weak to argue with himself, he simply crawled to the sink, taking a few large gulps directly from the faucet. It slightly soothed his dry throat, but his body still burned with fever. The cold water in his stomach, mixed with hunger from not eating for hours, made him feel bloated, and a wave of nausea hit him.

He leaned against the sink, dry-heaving a few times, but nothing came out except for sticky saliva.

Zhou Yi couldn’t stand. His stomach ached, and he wanted to go back to the bedroom, but his legs gave out, and his head spun. He leaned against the cupboard and sank to the floor.

His phone, still clutched in his hand, seemed to be his last hope. With little energy left, he forced himself to open Meituan and order the medicine he needed, hoping it would arrive soon.

The coolness of the tiles against his feverish skin felt oddly comforting. Wrapped in his quilt, he lay on the ground, drifting toward sleep as he waited for the delivery.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, the doorbell rang.

In his feverish daze, Zhou Yi first thought he was dreaming, but the doorbell kept ringing, pulling him back to reality. It must be the delivery man, he realized. He felt embarrassed by how he looked—wrapped in a quilt, kneeling on the floor in his pajamas, sweating, and dizzy. But he didn’t want to keep the delivery man waiting.

His body was too limp to stand, so he crawled toward the door, a task that usually only took him two minutes now felt like an eternity.

As he reached for the door handle, a strange thought crossed his mind—a memory of a dog learning to open a door. The image of the dog struggling to stand and hold the handle reminded him too much of his own situation.

When he opened the door, it wasn’t the delivery man, but Liang Xianzhang, the man who lived opposite him and with whom he had shared a one-night stand.

Zhou Yi froze, not sure why Liang Xianzhang was standing at his door, and in such a humiliating state.

“You…” Zhou Yi rasped, his throat burning.

Liang Xianzhang took in his disheveled state and couldn’t hide his surprise. He had known Zhou Yi was ill, but this… this was far worse than he had imagined.

The door opened, and a cool, minty scent filled the air, causing Liang Xianzhang’s body to stiffen. His pheromones began to flare, reacting to the Omega before him, sending a rush of warmth through his body.

Zhou Yi’s appearance was worse than he had anticipated—his eyes swollen, lips dry and pale, and his face pale with exhaustion.

“Your medicine was delivered to the wrong address,” Liang Xianzhang said, his voice deliberately calm. He handed over a bag, turning it to show the order side to Zhou Yi.

Zhou Yi, barely able to focus, nodded weakly and gazed up at Liang Xianzhang. The light in the hallway cast harsh shadows across Liang Xianzhang’s face, but even in this situation, Zhou Yi could see how polished and composed he looked—unlike Zhou Yi, who was at his lowest.

His dizziness worsened, and the light flickered in his eyes. He just wanted the interaction to end.

“Thank you…” Zhou Yi mumbled, trying to stand and take the bag, but his legs gave way. As he fell forward, Liang Xianzhang immediately caught him.

Without hesitation, Liang Xianzhang enveloped him in his arms, feeling the heat of Zhou Yi’s fever seep through his clothes.

Zhou Yi, no longer able to keep himself upright, buried his face in Liang Xianzhang’s chest, inhaling the familiar scent of orange blossom. The soothing scent helped dull the dizziness.

What Zhou Yi didn’t realize was that the pheromones from an Alpha, especially during illness or emotional distress, could alleviate some of the symptoms.

As he lay in Liang Xianzhang’s arms, his fingers unconsciously gripped the fabric of his pajamas. He wanted to push him away, but the need for comfort kept him close.

Liang Xianzhang stood still, letting Zhou Yi cling to him, just as he had when they first met. Then, his cool hand touched Zhou Yi’s feverish forehead.

For the first time, Zhou Yi’s dizzy mind cleared a little. Liang Xianzhang’s touch felt like a balm against his feverish skin.

“Thank you… it feels so good…” Zhou Yi whispered, his voice hoarse, eyes filled with gratitude.

Liang Xianzhang swallowed hard, an unfamiliar emotion rising in his chest, and without thinking, he lifted Zhou Yi into his arms, closed the door behind them, and carried him back to his apartment.

He laid Zhou Yi carefully on his bed, his face showing concern as he saw how wet with sweat his pajamas were. He retrieved a warm towel and began to gently wipe Zhou Yi’s body, pausing when he reached sensitive areas, taking care not to hurt him.

Zhou Yi’s mind was foggy, unsure why Liang Xianzhang was being so kind. Their relationship had been casual, and they barely knew each other.

Yet, the tenderness was foreign to Zhou Yi, who was used to neglect and cruelty. He didn’t know how to respond to the gentleness Liang Xianzhang showed him.

When Liang Xianzhang wiped Zhou Yi’s waist, his touch was so light that it almost seemed to hover above his skin. Zhou Yi couldn’t help but feel a lump in his throat, his emotions threatening to spill over.

Noticing his distress, Liang Xianzhang stopped, asking gently, “Did I hurt you?”

Zhou Yi shook his head, struggling to speak. “No…”

“Then why didn’t you apply the medicine that night?” Liang Xianzhang asked, his voice concerned.

Zhou Yi, his voice barely audible, explained, “I didn’t have the strength… I fell asleep as soon as I got home.”

Liang Xianzhang’s face softened as he realized the extent of Zhou Yi’s pain. “Where are your family members?” he asked gently.

Zhou Yi’s throat tightened at the question. “I… I don’t have family,” he whispered, feeling a pang of grief.

Realizing his mistake, Liang Xianzhang sighed and said, “I won’t ask again. Let me finish helping you.” He continued to wipe him down carefully, not wanting to cause any further discomfort.

Zhou Yi’s pain was clear when Liang Xianzhang reached his thigh. The skin was raw and broken, and even the lightest touch made Zhou Yi wince.

In a dazed state, Zhou Yi blurted out, “It hurts… it’s your fault…”

Liang Xianzhang, guilty for what had happened, apologized again. “It’s my fault… I’m sorry…”

After tending to Zhou Yi’s wounds and changing him into clean pajamas, Liang Xianzhang gave him water and antipyretic medicine.

The fever didn’t subside immediately, so Liang Xianzhang applied a fever-reducing patch—one meant for children. Zhou Yi realized too late.

“This seems to be for children,” Zhou Yi remarked.

Liang Xianzhang smiled faintly. “The effect should be similar.”

Zhou Yi didn’t argue. The patch did help, and he felt sleepy again.

“Go to sleep if you’re tired,” Liang Xianzhang said, turning down the lights and leaving on a dim nightlight.

“What about you?” Zhou Yi asked sleepily, “You can sleep on the other side…”

Liang Xianzhang paused, his emotions in turmoil. He climbed into bed next to Zhou Yi but kept a careful distance.

Zhou Yi closed his eyes, then softly said, “Thank you…”

Liang Xianzhang watched him for a moment before turning to face him, the closeness making his heart race.

He gently brushed his finger across Zhou Yi’s forehead, down his nose, and lightly touched his lips, feeling a sweetness that took him by surprise.

He sighed, deep in thought. The sight of Zhou Yi’s apartment earlier—the carefully arranged but empty space—had raised questions in his mind.

After a long pause, Liang Xianzhang sent a message to his secretary, preparing for what would come next.