As for Pink-Hair, before Falling in Love, He Insisted That He Wasn't the Possessive Type - Chapter 13

After arriving at Yu Qingdu’s house, Shang Qingye supported him as he sat down on the sofa.

“Do you have a thermometer?”

Yu Qingdu’s eyelids felt heavy. He nodded slightly and pointed toward a drawer. Shang Qingye walked in the direction he indicated and found a temporal thermometer in one of the drawers. He walked back to Yu Qingdu, looking down at the unfortunate man leaning against the sofa. Yu Qingdu’s hair was thick, and the stray locks on his forehead were long. Shang Qingye knelt down and pushed the hair back, exposing his entire forehead; without the fringe, Yu Qingdu looked less soft and more sharp.

He pressed the thermometer against Yu Qingdu’s forehead. With a beep, it displayed 38.9 degrees Celsius. Shang Qingye’s expression changed immediately upon seeing the numbers; it was a high fever.

“This is not good. You must go get an injection,” Shang Qingye said seriously.

Yu Qingdu’s head was swimming. He glanced at the number on the thermometer and whispered, “That gun is inaccurate.”

Shang Qingye could not hear him clearly. He frowned and asked, “What?”

As Shang Qingye leaned in to listen, Yu Qingdu struggled to lift his hand and pull the man toward him. He spoke into Shang Qingye’s left ear, “That gun is inaccurate. Go to the drawer; there is a manual thermometer.”

His voice was weak and lacked energy. Shang Qingye looked at his state and followed his instructions, placing the manual thermometer in his mouth.

“Sit for a moment.” Shang Qingye took a bag of medicine and walked toward the water dispenser.

Yu Qingdu was dazed from the fever. He was not exactly in pain, but his thoughts were sluggish and his head felt heavy. He lifted his eyelids and glanced over, seeing Shang Qingye’s back as he prepared the medicine.

He let out two muffled coughs, turned back to look at the dazzling chandelier, and closed his eyes.

“Wake up and take your medicine.”

Yu Qingdu did not know how much time had passed, only that Shang Qingye was waking him up. The thermometer was gone from his mouth. He looked up to see Shang Qingye kneeling before him, pressing a cup of medicine into his hand.

“And these.” Shang Qingye poured several pills into Yu Qingdu’s palm.

Yu Qingdu took a slow sip of the liquid. Surprisingly, it did not taste that bad. He put the pills into his mouth in two batches and swallowed them with the medicine.

“37.9 degrees Celsius,” Shang Qingye noted after seeing him finish everything. He turned to put the thermometer back in its place. “Monitor yourself tonight to see if the fever breaks. If it has not gone down by tomorrow, you are getting that injection.”

He looked back, unsure if Yu Qingdu was even listening. The cup had already been placed on the coffee table, and the man had closed his eyes again, crossing his arms as if he were freezing.

“Get up. Do not sleep here; go to your room.” Shang Qingye walked over and nudged Yu Qingdu’s foot.

Yu Qingdu opened his eyes slowly and tried to stand. However, the moment he rose, he felt top heavy. The world spun, and he began to fall back toward the sofa, but a strong force caught him and swept him off his feet.

“Point the way. I will carry you there,” Shang Qingye said, raising an eyebrow at the pale man in his arms.

Since he was already being helped, Yu Qingdu did not try to be brave. He slowly raised a finger and pointed toward a hallway. Yu Qingdu’s house was so large that it took Shang Qingye a moment to find the right room.

After placing him on the bed, Shang Qingye tucked him in. Looking at the man’s pitiful state, he asked, “When are your parents coming back? It is almost the Lunar New Year, and they are still not here?”

Yu Qingdu buried his head in the quilt. Hearing the question, his voice came out muffled through the fabric: “They have been gone for a long time.”

Shang Qingye froze. He looked at the person buried under the covers with a complicated expression. Suddenly, the vast room felt empty. Not long after speaking, Yu Qingdu fell into a deep sleep. Shang Qingye sat there and watched him sleep before finally leaving.

Around nine or ten o’clock the next morning, a phone began to ring persistently in the quiet room. Finally, a hand emerged from under the quilt to pick up the phone. He checked the caller ID and answered.

“Hello.” Yu Qingdu’s voice was raspy from the cold.

There was a pause on the other end before a voice asked, “Has the fever broken?”

Yu Qingdu’s mind was a mess. He had a slight headache, but the heavy, dazed feeling was gone. He subconsciously touched his forehead; it was no longer hot.

“No more fever.”

“That is good. Remember to eat something before taking your medicine.” Shang Qingye’s casual, lazy tone drifted into Yu Qingdu’s ear.

Yu Qingdu gave a soft “Mhm.” Memories of the previous night began to return. After a silence, he said, “Thank you.”

After hanging up, Yu Qingdu placed his phone on the nightstand and noticed a glass of water there. He never had the habit of drinking water at night, so he could not have placed it there himself. It could only have been left by Shang Qingye.

The room was silent until a light chuckle rang out. “He is quite attentive.”

It took a few days for Yu Qingdu to recover fully from his illness. By the time he was well, it was New Year’s Eve. Whether it was New Year’s Eve or the Spring Festival itself, Yu Qingdu spent it alone as usual.

“Qingdu, come spend the New Year at your aunt’s place this year,” a gentle voice said over the phone.

Yu Qingdu held the phone to his ear and walked to the floor to ceiling window. He smiled and declined warmly, “No, thank you, Auntie. You should take good care of yourself.” He traced his finger across the glass. “Happy New Year in advance, Auntie.”

The woman on the phone was Yu Qingdu’s aunt, Zhou Hao’s mother, though technically, she was no longer his aunt. Yu Qingdu’s uncle had passed away when he was young, leaving behind Zhou Hao and his mother. At that time, Zhou Hao was still named Yu Hao. Before Yu Qingdu’s parents passed away, they stayed close to the widow and her son. Two years later, his aunt remarried a man named Zhou, and Yu Hao changed his name to Zhou Hao.

After hanging up, Yu Qingdu traced the glass twice more. He stood at his high vantage point, looking into the distance. It was never easy for a woman to remarry, especially with a child. Why should he add to their burdens?

For dinner on New Year’s Eve, Yu Qingdu steamed a few dumplings for himself. While he was eating, his phone rang again.

“Dudu, do you miss me?” The man’s voice on the line was intentionally lowered, bordering on a forced vocal fry.

“Wen Chen, have you gone stupid while staying abroad?” Yu Qingdu picked up a dumpling, chewed, swallowed, and spoke unhurriedly.

“Oh, come on! I am just checking to see if you have any little vixens keeping you company on New Year’s Eve.” The voice became playful. He then asked mysteriously, “No vixens, right?”

“It is a struggle for you to remember the time back home while you are abroad, timing your call just for me,” Yu Qingdu said with a hint of a smile.

“Hehe. My mom wanted me to say Happy New Year to you and tell you to visit us abroad when you have time.” As soon as Wen Chen finished, a crisp female voice broke in, “Dudu! Come visit us when you are free. Happy New Year!”

Yu Qingdu’s eyes softened. “Happy New Year, Auntie Lu. I will come when I am free.”

“Your uncle is stir frying; he told me to wish you a Happy New Year too. Hey! This is my call! I am the one paying for the international minutes!”

Listening to the bickering over the phone, Yu Qingdu let his thoughts wander. Finally, Wen Chen took the phone back and said secretly, “Let me tell you, I am moving back to China in a few months. My dad is giving me a subsidiary to manage. Make sure you pick me up from the airport.”

“Alright.”

After the call ended, Yu Qingdu sat in his chair, lost in thought. Wen Chen was his childhood playmate; before his parents passed away, the two families were neighbors. Later, due to work, the Wen family moved abroad. They were the only family that had specifically returned to help him after the Yu family’s tragedy.

The Spring Festival Gala was playing in the living room. Yu Qingdu liked having some background noise. The hosts began the countdown: ten, nine, eight, seven, two, one, zero. The sound of midnight arrived on time, and the people on television cheered.

Yu Qingdu’s phone began to buzz incessantly. He did not need to guess to know they were New Year’s greetings. He had not intended to look at his phone, but he still had things to do. He opened his work group and sent a large red envelope to thank everyone for their hard work over the past year. The group immediately exploded with people scrambling for the red envelope and sending messages of thanks.

Just as he was about to put the phone down, he saw a WeChat message from Shang Qingye: “Do you want to eat dumplings?”