After the Sickly Child Differentiates into A - Chapter 15

The door closed, leaving Lin Li with a strange feeling, though she didn’t dwell on it. Perhaps this fairy-like sister assumed she was too weak to care for herself and asked out of elder’s concern.

It was far past Lin Li’s usual bedtime. She slowly prepared herself for sleep and sank into deep slumber the moment her head touched the pillow.

She expected to sleep until dawn, but before six o’clock, she abruptly woke to lingering pain.

Breathing was difficult, her throat itchy.

Lin Li lay motionless in the dark, staring blankly at the ceiling. When the pain didn’t subside, she covered her mouth to cough a few times and decided to rise.

The mansion stood silent as she descended the stairs by corridor light.

The hall had returned to its familiar state, but she had no desire to stay.

Stepping outside, she carefully closed the door behind her.

Her slender silhouette moved through the pre-dawn darkness, plodding across dew-dampened grass without purpose.

Every few steps, she paused to rest.

Bowl after bowl of medicine, day after day passed, yet her body grew weaker.

Lin Li knew well without differentiation, she would die at twelve.

But there was nothing to be done.

Dew soaked her trouser legs as she stood amidst unfamiliar flower beds, only now noticing the blooms around her. In the dim light, she made out pure white, dewy petals before her.

An unknown flower.

Beautiful.

“Cough!”

Her thin frame trembled with uncontrollable coughing. After several moments, she straightened, removing her hand from her lips to reveal a smear of crimson against pale skin.

Lin Li exhaled softly at the sight.

A faint light pierced the darkness, sweeping across the world with a breeze that brushed her bloodied hand.

She lifted her face to the emerging sun.

Wiping her palm against black trousers, the stain only smeared, leaving red streaks. Without looking down, she slowly curled her fingers to conceal them.

Dark eyes remained fixed on the dawn.

Perhaps ten seconds, perhaps minutes passed before coughing resumed, finally drawing her gaze downward.

“Lin Li.”

A distant, faint call cut through her coughing, carrying winter’s chill.

Covering her mouth, she turned,

Behind a third-floor window stood a familiar, tall figure looking down.

This wasn’t Wen Jingzhi’s usual waking hour on rest days too early.

Her advancing estrus cycle had roused her from sleep.

The face hailed as “divine” bore its typical cool composure, yet the corners of her eyes burned with desire.

As always, she retrieved suppressants from the medical cabinet, injecting them by the window. As the surging heat subsided and she discarded the syringe, intending to return to sleep, faint coughing reached her ears.

Familiar, sickly, stifled coughing.

Her bedroom overlooked the flower garden. At this hour, in this place, she first assumed her estrus-addled mind had deceived her.

Since Lin Li was allergic to roses, though the garden wasn’t planted with them, the old gentleman had explicitly warned the child not to approach the flowerbeds at least not until they could confirm none of the flowers would trigger her asthma out of concern for potential undetected allergens from other blooms.

Given the child’s sensible nature, she shouldn’t have gone to the garden alone, especially not at the crack of dawn.

Thinking this, and hearing no more coughing, Wen Jingzhi convinced herself she’d imagined it. But as she turned away, the coughing reached her ears again faint with distance, yet unmistakably familiar.

Frowning, Wen Jingzhi drew back the curtains and pushed open the window to look down.

The morning sun illuminated the vibrant garden, where amidst the riot of blossoms stood a small, familiar silhouette.

The golden light seemed to favor her, spilling lavishly over her slender shoulders that trembled with each cough, the movement playful yet teasing.

From three stories up, Wen Jingzhi stared wordlessly at the tiny figure bathed in sunlight.

Only when the coughing showed no sign of stopping did she snap out of it, calling out with a hint of anger.

She’d stayed up so late last night, and it wasn’t even seven yet, how many hours of sleep was that?

How could someone so frail go out and catch a chill?

August mornings carried a dewy coolness, refreshing to most but enough to give a sickly child a fever.

When her first call went unanswered, Wen Jingzhi leaned on the windowsill and raised her voice.

This time, Lin Li heard. She turned around.

Three floors was no short distance, especially with half the garden between them. Wen Jingzhi couldn’t make out Lin Li’s expression, yet she felt an inexplicable pang in her chest.

The moment those eyes met hers, a sudden ache.

Though the favoring light enveloped the girl’s entire body, it couldn’t brighten those pitch-black eyes.

Floating beyond the warmth was a desolation and stillness that no ten-year-old should possess.

The frail little figure seemed moments away from dissolving into dust within that light.

Suppressing the strange surge of emotion, Wen Jingzhi turned and left the bedroom.

By the time she reached the first floor and pulled open the front door, she believed herself composed enough to calmly retrieve her “misbehaving” sister. But the chill that greeted her jolted her awake.

She’d come outside in nothing but a thin nightgown.

And she was an Omega in heat.

Even on private property where no strangers could see, appearing outdoors like this was unacceptable.

Face darkening, Wen Jingzhi took a deep breath, hesitating whether to fetch a coat.

“Sister.”

The soft call made her freeze. Her gaze immediately found the small, fragile figure, and she exhaled in relief until she noticed the child’s damp pant cuffs. “Come here,” she ordered coldly, arms crossed, her expression frostier than the morning mist.

Lin Li paused, then mustered an ingratiating smile as she approached. When she drew near, her somewhat forced expression softened with genuine warmth. “Good morning, sister.”

That familiar scent of snow.

The pain that had kept her awake finally eased a little.

She looked the picture of obedience.

Wen Jingzhi frowned slightly as she glanced at her, unwilling to stay outdoors any longer. Bending down, she hooked an arm around the girl and effortlessly lifted her with one hand, pushing open the front door to enter.

The door closed behind them, shutting out the chill. Wen Jingzhi relaxed slightly, pressing the back of her hand gently against the child’s forehead.

A little warm.

But not enough to be a high fever.

“Even in August, the early mornings are cold,” Wen Jingzhi said, her gaze lingering on the pale, sickly little face before her. The irritation she had felt moments ago dissipated into helplessness. “If you like the garden, go in the afternoon.”

Pressing close to Wen Jingzhi brought Lin Li some relief. She lifted her arms to wrap around her sister’s neck, nestling even closer, her weak, sickly smile tinged with exhaustion. “Okay, sister.”

“Next time, I won’t do it again. *Don’t be mad, sister.”

Wen Jingzhi’s brow twitched. She lowered her eyes to look at her for a few seconds before carrying her into the kitchen. Retrieving the pre-prepared medicinal broth from the fridge, she realized heating it with one hand would be difficult. Setting the girl down, she initially intended to send her to wait outside, but the child clung stubbornly, her slender fingers weakly hooking onto the waistband of Wen Jingzhi’s nightgown as she followed her step for step.

Perhaps thinking Wen Jingzhi was still angry, she was trying to appease her.

Amused, Wen Jingzhi filled a bowl with scalding water and placed the medicine bowl inside to warm it. Resting the heel of her palm against the edge of the sink, she lowered her head. “I’m not angry.”

There was no need to stick to her like a puppy.

The cool, indifferent tone left Lin Li momentarily confused. She blinked in puzzlement but didn’t show it, tilting her pale face up with a soft, drowsy smile. “As long as sister isn’t angry.”

Fragile, gentle, and endlessly patient.

Anyone who saw her would praise her for being well-behaved.

Yet Wen Jingzhi couldn’t shake a faint sense of dissonance. Her expression remained neutral as she gave a perfunctory hum in response, saying nothing more and making no move to shoo Lin Li back to the living room.

If she wanted to stay by her side, so be it.

The medicine warmed quickly. Wen Jingzhi retrieved it with a bowl clip, then crooked a finger at the person beside her. Lin Li immediately understood, smiling as she took her hand.

Leading her out of the kitchen, Wen Jingzhi set the medicine on the coffee table and motioned for Lin Li to sit on the sofa before turning back to return the bowl clip and wash a spoon.

“Drink the medicine, then go back to sleep.”

Slender fingers pinched the white porcelain spoon, scooping up the pitch-black medicinal brew and bringing it to pale, colorless lips.

Lin Li swallowed the bitter liquid, her eyes crinkling into a smile. “Okay.” Wen Jingzhi wasn’t one for conversation, and so she stayed quiet as well. For a while, the only sound in the living room was the gentle clink of the spoon against the bowl.

As she neared the end of the medicine, drowsiness began to tug at Lin Li. But reluctant to part with Wen Jingzhi’s presence which somehow eased her discomfort she hesitated, biting down on the spoon, leaving the last mouthful untouched.

“Can’t finish it?” Wen Jingzhi’s lashes fluttered slightly, her gaze as cold as a snow-capped mountain. Even a question that should have been caring came out flat and detached. “Finish it, and I’ll give you a piece of candy.”

The medicine smelled bitter enough, it was impressive the child could drink it without so much as a grimace.

“Thank you, sister.” Lin Li snapped out of her daze and downed the last spoonful. As Wen Jingzhi reached for the candy box beneath the coffee table, she couldn’t resist asking, “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

No.

The refusal rose instinctively to Wen Jingzhi’s lips, but she swallowed it back.

Even she didn’t understand why.

She was on the first day of her estrus cycle. Even with suppressants, reining in her pheromones was difficult. Though she herself didn’t feel the cold, she could sense the icy aura clinging to her.

Couldn’t this sickly child feel it?

What if she spiked another fever?

Wen Jingzhi twirled the candy between her fingers, gazing into Lin Li’s eyes as she asked calmly, “Afraid to sleep alone?”

It had been quite some time since the child came to their home, and she’d never heard of the kid clinging to anyone for bedtime before this probably wasn’t the real reason.

“No.” Lin Li replied with squinting eyes and a smile, offering no explanation for the request.

So, it wasn’t fear.

Then why?

The candy wrapper crinkled sharply in Wen Jingzhi’s grip.

The child had indeed been clingier than usual today, constantly sticking close. Even now on the sofa, those fingers were fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

Come to think of it, this had happened before.

When was it?

Lowering her gaze, Wen Jingzhi extended the orange-wrapped candy. “Give me your hand.”

“Thank you, sister.” Lin Li’s right hand, which had been idly toying with the cyan nightgown’s hem, now loosened its grip and turned palm-up in offering.

Unable to recall previous instances of such clinginess, Wen Jingzhi dismissed the thought and moved to place the candy on the outstretched palm until her drifting gaze froze.

“You’re hurt?”

Several smeared bloodstains stood out starkly against the pale palm.

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