After Failing To Tame The Scumbag - Chapter 12

“I won’t do anything.”

Unexpectedly, Ji Jin finally finds Yun Chuxiu in an old, run down “fly restaurant.”

It is chaotic and noisy, as if the place were draped in the raw, messy smoke of real world existence. Ji Jin, carrying packed breakfast, carefully navigates past the stray legs of diners. There, Yun Chuxiu sits at a corner table, a half-finished bowl of noodles steaming before her.

“…A-Xiu,” Ji Jin tries tentatively, sitting across from her. The table is cluttered with uncollected dishes, leaving no room even to set down the breakfast she brought.

Yun Chuxiu swallows the last bite of her noodles and looks up. “There’s no room here. Find somewhere else to eat your own food.”

Ji Jin shakes her head. She orders the exact same noodles Yun Chuxiu had and sits there in a stalemate, her eyes fixed solely on Yun Chuxiu’s emotional state.

Yun Chuxiu lazily lifts her eyelids. Looking at the steaming, untouched noodles, she says calmly, “Are you going to keep wasting things?”

Ji Jin shakes her head again, seemingly wanting to speak, but quickly loses the nerve. As the restaurant heats up and the creaking fans struggle against the rising sun, Yun Chuxiu finishes her meal. A clean tissue is immediately handed to her by Ji Jin.

Ji Jin continues to watch her with a sincere, cowering gaze. Her noodles remain untouched, the breakfast she carried remains bagged.

“I know your ‘breakdown’ was an act,” Yun Chuxiu says, now finding the time to deal with her. “It was a bit stupid, but your intentions were acceptable.” She drinks some warm water, sensing that after this period of being “left on ice,” Ji Jin has calmed down. “Eat your breakfast. I’ll wait until you’re finished before I leave.”

Ji Jin: “…You’re still leaving?”

Ji Jin has indeed calmed down, perhaps too much. “A-Xiu, you usually don’t make me wait this long,” she says, trying to be rational, but the subtle shift in Yun Chuxiu’s attitude leaves her feeling ungrounded. “And you’re surprised I found you here.”

“This is a place I frequented during my school days,” Yun Chuxiu says, pointing to the weathered tabletop. “It’s not your style.”

Ji Jin runs a hand through her hair, her voice dropping. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“I don’t know,” Yun Chuxiu replies, her eyes cold. “Ji Jin, I know much less than you think I do.”

“GPS,” Ji Jin chokes out, suppressed bitterness rising in her throat. “I found you via GPS, A-Xiu. You didn’t pick up my calls.”

Yun Chuxiu has never been one for double standards. She wanted to know Ji Jin’s location at all times, so she offered up her own in return. Ji Jin never viewed this as a “perk” and had never used the tracking app until now.

“A-Xiu is always right,” Ji Jin says, her words becoming incoherent as if she were being evaporated by her own emotions. “I don’t understand you enough. If not for the GPS, I don’t know how long I would have wandered… and you wouldn’t answer me.”

“This is unnecessary,” Yun Chuxiu says, seeing Ji Jin’s behavior as bordering on obsessive pathology. “No one can fully understand another’s thought process, even if they sleep in the same bed.”

Ji Jin panics. “You…”

“Your state is wrong,” Yun Chuxiu interrupts. She stands and leans toward Ji Jin’s flushed face. After a long moment, she sighs. “You have a fever.”

Ji Jin blinks, dazed. “Huh…?” She doesn’t register the illness, only that Yun Chuxiu’s cool hand feels good. She leans in further.

Yun Chuxiu: “…”

Holding Ji Jin’s head back with one hand, Yun Chuxiu uses the other to call the family doctor.

“It’s already 39°C (102.2°F),” the doctor says, looking at the thermometer. “She’s been burning up for a while… did she really not feel it?”

The doctor remembers her employers as being meticulously self-aware, usually nipping any illness in the bud. But now? A 39 degree fever, clinging to someone, refusing an IV… has the fever fried her brain?

“Let’s get the fever down first,” the doctor says, noticing the clingy atmosphere. “This medicine is mild; it won’t work instantly. Someone should stay by her side.”

Yun Chuxiu: “.”

Leaning against the wall, her arm weighed down by the “human attachment” that is Ji Jin, Yun Chuxiu relents. “Fine.”

Since the illness is somewhat her fault, she agrees to stay. The planned departure is stalled.

Back home, the moment they step through the door, the strength Ji Jin was using to hold herself together vanishes. She nearly collapses. Yun Chuxiu catches her just in time.

“A-Xiu,” Ji Jin murmurs, her eyes misty and unfocused, her hand gripping Yun Chuxiu’s sleeve with a dying strength, repeating her name like a mantra.

Yun Chuxiu settles her on the sofa, propping her up and wiping her sweat with a cloth. Caring for a patient is exhausting, but Ji Jin remains instinctively obedient to her, offering an arm when told, lying down when told. The only exception is her refusal to break physical contact.

Yun Chuxiu sighs in relief. But as she tries to pull her hand away, Ji Jin mutters in her sleep.

“Don’t go…” Ji Jin’s brow furrows, as if trapped in a boundless deep sea. “Don’t go… look at me… I’ll change…”

Yun Chuxiu’s hand freezes in mid-air. For a second, she suspects Ji Jin is faking. But within a minute, Ji Jin goes quiet, her head resting on Yun Chuxiu’s lap, her face a fragile, feverish red.

A sense of powerlessness wraps around Yun Chuxiu again.

…A lose-lose situation. They are like vines tied in a dead knot, move closer and the thorns pierce you, move away and it tears the skin. Lost in thought, Yun Chuxiu’s rhythmic patting eventually lulls even herself into a heavy sleep.

When she wakes, half the afternoon has passed.

Her lap is empty. The curtains are drawn tight, blocking all natural light. Yun Chuxiu picks up a fallen blanket, and as she tries to recall how she fell asleep, she sees a hand reaching out from the shadows.

Ji Jin is standing silently behind her. It’s unclear how long she has been watching.

Yun Chuxiu: “…”

Ji Jin hands her a glass of warm water. Yun Chuxiu is quietly relieved the room is dar,; she was genuinely startled, though she didn’t lose her composure.

“The fever is gone,” Ji Jin says, sitting down beside her as if nothing happened. “I woke up a little while ago. Seeing you the moment I opened my eyes… I’m very lucky.”

Yun Chuxiu finds the water hard to swallow. If Ji Jin weren’t so sincere, she’d suspect sarcasm. The caregiver falling asleep before the patient… Even Yun Chuxiu feels a bit guilty.

“Are you clear-headed now?” Yun Chuxiu asks, trying to change the subject. “Good. Then I’ll take my suitcase and go.”

Ji Jin mumbles an assent. Her gaze is as intense as ever, but her words are surprisingly “complaisant.”

“I’ll drive you there,” Ji Jin pauses. “I’m not trying to cling to you. It’s just that the house hasn’t been lived in for a long time. I’m worried. Once you’re settled, I’ll leave. If A-Xiu doesn’t want me to, I won’t do anything.”

Yun Chuxiu: “?”

Is the sun rising in the west? Did a high fever actually fix her brain?

Though suspicious, Yun Chuxiu nods. “I hope you keep your word.”

Ji Jin smiles. Her arm slides around Yun Chuxiu’s waist, tightening slightly. Her eyes remain submissive, unblinking.

“I’m just concerned for A-Xiu’s safety. I won’t do anything else. Really.”

She blinks her dry eyes sincerely. She looks “normal” to an abnormal degree.

Yun Chuxiu: …I believe you even less now.

Besides, it’s a house move in broad daylight. How dangerous could it possibly be?