Chapter 9

After sending the last voice message, Le Cheng was just finishing up when Tan Xiaobai came out with a towel.

He wasn’t used to sending voice messages in front of others, so he just sent a cute emoji without looking closely.

Tan Xiaobai called out to him: “Le Cheng, you should go shower too.”

“Eh, okay.” Le Cheng bent down to find the shower gel.

Meanwhile, Zhou Shiru, holding his phone, had been staring at it for a long time without moving.

Suddenly, his phone vibrated, and he glanced at the screen.

It was an emoji: two chibi fish heads giving each other a kiss, their tails connected to form a heart shape.

The emoji carried a subtle, suggestive implication.

Zhou Shiru wasn’t sure if he was overthinking it, but after staring at the screen for a long time and feeling his mouth go dry, he put down his phone and reached for his water cup, accidentally brushing against the voice message.

“Boop boop~”

The Bluetooth earphones, still in his ears, immediately activated.

It sounded like fish blowing bubbles, a light, delicate sound, as if kissing or simulating the sound of lips parting.

Le Cheng seemed to enjoy these vague, indistinct messages, which made it hard to tell if he was being affectionate or something else.

When Le Cheng came out of the shower, he noticed that Zhou Shiru hadn’t replied.

He glanced at his phone but didn’t pay it much attention. He dried his hair, grabbed his tablet, and got into bed, putting on his headphones and finding a TV series to watch.

After watching for a while, he noticed a message alert on his phone and casually glanced at it.

[Mom]

He immediately became alert, quickly sat up, and placed his phone in his palm, nervously opening the message.

[Mom: Cheng Cheng, is the money enough for this month?]

Le Cheng pondered for a moment and replied: [Yes,]

[Mom: Really enough? If not, let us know. We earned money to spend on you. If it’s not enough, your dad’s salary has come in.]

Le Cheng furrowed his brow involuntarily. He had skimmed through the chat history before and knew that his biological parents had average health and didn’t earn much. The original owner often lied about his needs to get money.

This arrangement was a case of mutual agreement, and Le Cheng wouldn’t judge it, but he couldn’t be so assertive.

He had been adopted by his foster parents when he was very young. Although their love wasn’t intense, it was sufficient. Even after they had another child, they didn’t withhold anything from him. They supported his interest in drawing and provided for him without asking for any money back. Even though he wasn’t spoiled, his upbringing had made him content, peaceful, and resilient.

Since starting to take on commissions in college, he felt more confident due to his increased financial stability and wanted to test his independence. Even though his foster parents knew about his earnings, they had never asked him to contribute financially to the family and continued to provide him with living expenses.

This calm and tolerant affection taught Le Cheng about equality, and he wasn’t overly spoiled or demanding.

[Le Cheng: Mom, you and Dad should save your salary for yourselves. I have enough here, so don’t worry about me. The weather is getting colder, so dress warmly.]

[Mom: Good child, you’re even learning to care for others. I’m really happy.]

[Mom: Also, dress warmly. Everything at home is fine. Just focus on your studies.]

[Le Cheng: Okay]

Le Cheng glanced at his phone again, knowing that the issue was resolved.

This conversation brought a long-lost warmth of family affection and unlocked old memories. Before his transmigration, he hadn’t often communicated with his foster parents through WeChat.

He wondered what they would do if they discovered he had disappeared…

Le Cheng lay on his back on the bed, feeling a faint sadness, but it didn’t last long. He suddenly got up, grabbed his phone, and looked at the IOU notes he had saved in his memo.

Yes.

IOUs.

The original owner owed a total of 160,000 yuan, not from one place but scattered across various debts, each amounting to thousands or tens of thousands.

Le Cheng had never truly conversed with “Mom” about this and had forgotten some of these details. Now, suddenly recalling them, he couldn’t afford to dwell on other concerns.

No.

He was still watching TV. How could he afford to relax at his age?

Le Cheng decided not to rest and got up, ready to start drawing.

Tan Xiaobai, in the bed across from him, poked his head out and asked, “In such a hurry? Need to use the restroom?”

“No,” Le Cheng shook his head, “I need to get up and draw.”

Tan Xiaobai: “???” So intense?

Actually, the best way to deal with debt is to seek help from parents, but Le Cheng was aware of his situation. The original owner’s family was nearly always drained of funds, often living paycheck to paycheck, so they couldn’t suddenly come up with 200,000 yuan.

If they couldn’t come up with that amount immediately, it was no different from him paying it off slowly.

Although he initially planned to follow the original storyline to get breakup compensation, Le Cheng should have the ability to repay the money himself. He could first secure the funds for emergencies and then repay Zhou Shiru.

Le Cheng, feeling highly motivated, turned on his computer and started drawing.

He worked until nearly 3 a.m. before groggily climbing into bed, setting an alarm for 9:30 a.m. to accompany Zhou Shiru to class.

However, things didn’t go as planned. The next morning, Le Cheng woke up with a foggy mind, his breath felt scorching, and he couldn’t get out of bed, curled up under the covers.

Tan Xiaobai thought he was still asleep and didn’t wake him. With no one else in the dorm, Le Cheng reached up to feel his forehead but only felt dizzy, not particularly hot.

He slowly got out of bed, feeling extremely dizzy, and found a thermometer. He placed it under his arm.

Five minutes later, he took it out and shook it. The reading was already at 38.6°C.

Le Cheng slumped into a soft chair, feeling like a puddle of melted jelly.

After resting for a while, he rummaged through his supplies for medicine and found only two anti-inflammatory tablets. Deciding that anti-inflammatories were better than nothing, he took them with some water.

Returning to his desk, Le Cheng remembered he couldn’t accompany Zhou Shiru to class. He took out his phone and sent him a message.

[Le Cheng: I’m not feeling well. It seems I can’t go to class with you today.]

After typing out the message with great effort, Le Cheng nearly fell asleep at his desk, only waking up when his phone rang.

He rested his half-frozen cheek on the cool desk, feeling comfortable and squinting his eyes, holding his phone in one hand to check the messages.

[Zhou Shiru: ?]

[Zhou Shiru: Okay.]

These two messages were sent together.

[Zhou Shiru: Where are you feeling unwell?]

This message came three minutes later.

Le Cheng, feeling weak, slowly tapped the screen. Suddenly, a message from Tan Xiaobai popped up.

[Tan Xiaobai: Le Cheng, should I bring you lunch when I come back later? Are you still eating with Zhou Shiru?]

Le Cheng thought for a moment and decided to reply to the message first.

[Le Cheng: Okay, Xiaobai, please bring me lunch. I seem to have a bit of a fever, but it’s not too serious. I don’t have any medicine here. Do you have any?]

[Tan Xiaobai: I don’t have any either, but I’ll stop by the pharmacy on my way back and get some for you.]

[Le Cheng: Thanks, Xiaobai.]

[Le Cheng: Little dog bows.jpg]

After replying to Tan Xiaobai, Le Cheng went back to the conversation with Zhou Shiru.

[Le Cheng: I have a bit of a fever.]

[Zhou Shiru: Is it serious? Are you going to the clinic?] Zhou Shiru replied very quickly this time.

It was the break time between the first and second periods, and everyone was heading out to change classrooms.

Cheng Yufei called from behind, “Shiru, let’s go. We need to head to the academic building.”

Zhou Shiru frowned slightly. “Wait a moment.”

“Oh.” Cheng Yufei found an empty seat, “Then I’ll check if the teacher has started roll call.”

[Le Cheng: Not going.]

Le Cheng took a while to reply, and his tone seemed somewhat stubborn.

Zhou Shiru wasn’t going to hold this against him. [Zhou Shiru: What’s your temperature?]

[Le Cheng: 38.6°C]

This was considered a moderate fever. Considering Le Cheng’s usual “pampered and dazed” image, Zhou Shiru found it hard not to suspect that Le Cheng might be feigning illness to avoid something.

[Zhou Shiru: Have you taken any medicine?]

Le Cheng fluttered his eyelashes to glance at the message. The reason for his short replies was not due to anything else but simply not being able to lift his hand.

[Le Cheng: No.]

[Zhou Shiru: Are you allergic to any medication?]

Le Cheng, with a fever making him sluggish, took a while to understand Zhou Shiru’s intention.

[Le Cheng: You don’t need to come. Xiaobai will bring me medicine.]

Xiaobai?

A very intimate term, Zhou Shiru thought.

Le Cheng felt that the conversation had ended, but suddenly his phone buzzed. He quickly answered.

“Hello?” Le Cheng’s voice was soft, with a slight hoarseness from the fever. “Zhou Shiru, why did you call me…”

“When will he bring it to you?” Zhou Shiru asked succinctly.

“Hmm… Maybe, maybe around lunchtime,” Le Cheng answered honestly.

“That’s too late.” Zhou Shiru’s tone was serious. “Not taking medicine on time can make it worse and affect your intelligence.”

Le Cheng felt like Zhou Shiru was calling him dumb.

Feeling petty because of his illness, he responded, “Why are you calling me dumb? I don’t want to talk to you.”

“…It’s the truth.” Zhou Shiru paused. “Don’t ignore me.”

Le Cheng reluctantly agreed, not remembering how he ended the call or how much time had passed. The dormitory door was knocked, and he groggily said, “Come in.”

When someone touched his forehead with a cool sensation, Le Cheng instinctively leaned into the coolness and opened his eyes.

“…Zhou Shiru?” He was momentarily dazed.

“Hmm.” Zhou Shiru withdrew his hand and said, “Take the medicine. After taking it, go to sleep.”

“But, but I can’t get up,” Le Cheng shook his head, trying to negotiate, “Can I, can I just sleep here for a while?”

Zhou Shiru placed the medicine in Le Cheng’s palm, and Le Cheng swallowed it with a gulp of water.

“I really can’t get up,” Le Cheng pleaded pitifully, “Falling down will make me dumber.”

Due to the fever, the edges of Le Cheng’s eyes were flushed red, and his lips were darker than usual. After drinking water, they looked moist and red, like a plump berry.

Zhou Shiru hesitated for a moment, then averted his gaze, saying quietly, “I’ll help you up.”

Le Cheng nodded and said, “Okay.” Zhou Shiru supported his back with one hand.

Le Cheng, weak in the legs, was helped forward, but his left foot slipped. Zhou Shiru quickly grasped his waist.

So light, Zhou Shiru frowned slightly, holding him effortlessly.

Le Cheng was only wearing pajamas, and the movement caused his top to ride up, exposing a segment of his pale, beautiful back.

Zhou Shiru averted his eyes as if shocked, feeling a strange impatience, and used gentle strength to lift him up. Le Cheng successfully climbed onto the bed.

Lying on the bed, Le Cheng was oblivious to much else and, while feeling disoriented, still thanked Zhou Shiru.

“Thank you,” Le Cheng said with half-closed eyes, “You’re really nice.”

He looked like a plush little animal, with a red nose, completely harmless, cute, and a bit silly, revealing his most genuine self.

This thought made Zhou Shiru smile slightly. “You only say that.”

Le Cheng, dazed from the fever, saw his rare gentle smile and couldn’t help but ask in a soft tone, “Am I a lot of trouble? Have I bothered you?”

“No.” Zhou Shiru paused, “You’re very cute.”