“Still want to drink water?” Guan Ciyan avoided Jian Yang’s question.

“I’ll go get you some sugar salt water to replenish your strength.” Jian Yang stood up to leave, but Guan Ciyan, feeling weak all over, suddenly gathered some strength and grabbed Jian Yang’s hand.

“Right here.”

Jian Yang placed Guan Ciyan’s hand back under the blanket. “Alright, I’ll have Uncle Zhang bring it up.”

“Cold, Jian Yang.”

“I’ll turn up the heat a little and turn on the air conditioning.” Jian Yang didn’t use the smart home app on Guan Ciyan’s phone; he instinctively went over to the control panel on the wall.

Guan Ciyan wanted to say it wasn’t necessary, but he enjoyed watching Jian Yang running around taking care of him.

“Jian Yang, come here.” He pulled at his hoarse throat, feeling very uncomfortable, but still wanting to speak.

“What’s wrong?” Jian Yang quickly ran back, his eyes clear like the sky after a heavy rain.

Guan Ciyan really wanted to touch his eyes, but his arm ached too much. “Look down.”

Jian Yang thought there was something on his face, so he pulled up his sleeve to wipe it off, then leaned down close to Guan Ciyan. “What’s wrong?”

So beautiful. Guan Ciyan gazed at his golden pupils, remembering how he used to worry about treating them, hoping to make them like anyone else’s—how regrettable. There was no more beautiful set of eyes in the world than these.

“What’s wrong? Are my eyes acting up again?” Jian Yang grew worried.

“Try and see if I’m hot,” Guan Ciyan said in a whisper.

Jian Yang shrugged his neck, a bit confused. “Of course you’re hot, Sir. You didn’t burn your brain, did you?”

Guan Ciyan smiled. “Try it.”

Jian Yang stretched out his hand to touch, “Hot.”

Guan Ciyan shook his head. “This method’s not accurate. You need to press your forehead against mine.”

“I’ll just use a thermometer, that’s more accurate.” Jian Yang was about to go grab a thermometer.

Guan Ciyan helplessly said, “Jian Yang…”

Jian Yang didn’t understand, but still did as told.

Sick people get special privileges.

The coolness of the forehead patch felt soothing. Guan Ciyan opened his eyes wide and saw Jian Yang getting closer to him. When Jian Yang closed his eyes, his long eyelashes fluttered like a little fan. When Jian Yang raised his head again, his golden eyes, like the sun waking up, slowly began to shine.

Ah, he couldn’t get enough of it.

This illness came at the wrong time.

Uncle Zhang brought up the sugar salt water. Jian Yang, holding onto Guan Ciyan’s hand, half-lay, half-sat by the bed, with his little head resting against Guan Ciyan’s neck, unable to move. “Uncle Zhang, you can put it on the small table, I’ll give it to Sir later.”

Uncle Zhang didn’t dare look directly at where they were close together, giving a subtle glance at Guan Ciyan: The young master is still young.

“Anything else, Uncle Zhang?”

“No, nothing…” Uncle Zhang looked troubled, “No, young master… don’t sit so close to Sir, he has a cold and it’s contagious.”

“But Sir said his throat hurts and he can’t speak, so he asked me to stay close to hear him better.”

Uncle Zhang thought: When did Sir become so delicate? In the past, when he was sick, he didn’t let anyone care for him. He’d just push people away and take his medicine alone. Wasn’t this just fooling around?

But Guan Ciyan was Sir, and Uncle Zhang didn’t dare to say anything.

“Uncle Zhang, just make some simple porridge for lunch. Don’t trouble yourself.”

Uncle Zhang sighed, “Sir, young master’s health is already weak. He caught a chill with you last night.”

After hearing that, Guan Ciyan hesitated, “Jian Yang, sit up.”

Jian Yang distanced himself from Guan Ciyan, but they were still holding hands tightly. Jian Yang didn’t expect Guan Ciyan to be so fragile after falling ill. “Sir, is it because we were out in the snow last night?”

Last night, they had an argument in the dilapidated slums. Guan Ciyan tilted the umbrella toward him, soaking his back. His suit, which wasn’t warm to begin with, worsened the loss of body heat, so he must have caught a cold then. Otherwise, someone like Guan Ciyan wouldn’t even let the cool breeze touch him.

“It’s not that,” Guan Ciyan rubbed Jian Yang’s palm, “I’ve been feeling unwell for a while, I just didn’t want to take medicine.”

Jian Yang wanted to say he was lying again, but then realized he couldn’t tell which of Guan Ciyan’s words were true and which were false. He decided not to press further. “Let go, I’ll get you some water.”

“No need.” Guan Ciyan held onto his hand tightly.

Even when he was sick, Jian Yang couldn’t escape his grip.

“Sir, you’re being a little spoiled.” Jian Yang commented, noting that Guan Ciyan never acted this way when he was sick.

Guan Ciyan readily admitted it, “You stay here.”

“Then sleep. I’ll wake you up later to eat and take your medicine.”

The cold medicine started to take effect, and Guan Ciyan had been wanting to sleep, but he didn’t want to yet. As soon as Jian Yang spoke, he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep. Jian Yang watched him sleep on his side, wondering if he was getting too caught up in the situation. Or maybe Guan Ciyan was playing along too well, making it too easy for him, the secret admirer, to act the part.

This was the plot of an idol drama.

All day today, Guan Ciyan had been pulling Jian Yang along. If Uncle Zhang hadn’t stopped him, Guan Ciyan would have wanted Jian Yang to stay with him even while he slept. Guan Ciyan asked Jian Yang for his opinion, and Jian Yang felt like this drama might be headed in a direction that wasn’t fit for broadcasting.

“I’ll listen to you, Sir.” Jian Yang lowered his head, too shy to look at Guan Ciyan.

What he was really thinking, though, was that Guan Ciyan was sick, so he couldn’t possibly do anything to him.

Guan Ciyan lifted his chin. “Jian Yang, you’re nineteen, right?”

Jian Yang nodded.

“Don’t sleep in tomorrow, I’ll introduce you to someone.” Guan Ciyan pinched his face and sent him off to bed.

Ten years old, he’s twenty-nine this year. It felt like he was bullying him.

Nineteen, still an uncertain age.