"What to do When the Pretty Woman I Kissed is My Best Friend's Professor" - Chapter 50

Due to her illness, Shen Jinrong’s voice was weak, and her complexion wasn’t good; pale with a bluish tint, she looked entirely spiritless. Her posture wasn’t as straight as Yan He had seen it before; instead, she looked like she was barely holding herself up.

She leaned against the door frame with one hand. Finishing that sentence seemed to have exhausted all her strength. She breathed weakly, and Yan He could even clearly see her fingertips turn white from gripping too hard. Shen Jinrong was pressing nearly her entire body weight onto the door frame.

There was a person inside the elevator facing them. Seeing Yan He standing outside looking elsewhere and not getting in, the person asked her, “Are you getting in?”

Yan He shook her head, took a step back, and apologized, “No, I’m sorry.” Then, she turned and walked toward Shen Jinrong.

She brought a gust of cool wind with her as she approached, causing Shen Jinrong to shiver violently. Yan He quickly held the door to let her in and then closed it behind them.

Shen Jinrong randomly grabbed a blanket from the sofa and wrapped herself in it. She was already thin, and now, completely enveloped in the blanket, she looked even smaller. Her hand was exposed, the veins on the back of it raised, pale and thin.

Yan He felt a dull ache in her heart.

Standing in the entryway and looking at Shen Jinrong, she thought: The Jie-jie in my mind shouldn’t be like this; she shouldn’t be so pale and fragile, looking like she could be blown over by a gust of wind. The Shen Jinrong in her heart should be the vibrant, immensely prestigious Professor Shen, who seemed born to stand at the highest point, commanding admiration from all.

The love of a young person always carries the romanticism of high ideals and sometimes impractical fantasies—like wanting to become a hero to rescue the person they love. Yan He had once imagined what she would do if her sister were sick or in danger, and what heroic image she would present to her. But now that the situation was truly happening right in front of her, with her sister genuinely ill, she realized that her fantasy remained a fantasy precisely because, subconsciously, she never wanted these things to happen at all.

Shen Jinrong seemed to lack the strength to lift her eyes. She felt her throat was dry, swayed a little, and looked toward the water cup on the coffee table. She sighed inwardly, reaching out to grasp the glass cup containing water on the coffee table.

Yan He noticed her arm—slender, thin, and pale—as she reached for the glass cup on the coffee table. Seeing her emaciated appearance, the heartache in Yan He’s soul deepened.

She placed the congee she had bought on the coffee table, undid the bag, felt the still-warm container, and gently said, “I’ll go get a spoon. Let’s have some congee. It’s still hot.”

After speaking, she saw that the cup Shen Jinrong had put back on the coffee table only had half a cup of water left, so she thought of boiling some hot water for her sister on the way. But when Yan He stood up and picked up the cup, she found that the water inside was actually cold.

Holding the cup, she looked at Shen Jinrong with some annoyance—Jie-jie is clearly sick, why is she drinking cold water? Her towering gaze finally brought the half-a-second-slower, sick Shen Jinrong back to her senses. She looked up and asked quietly, “What’s wrong?” Her tone was timid, like a child who had done something wrong and feared being scolded by a parent.

Looking at her sickly appearance, Yan He’s eyes reddened. She couldn’t bring herself to scold her after all. She only said, “It’s not good for you to drink cold water now. I’m going to boil some hot water.”

Shen Jinrong slowly nodded: “Mhmm. The electric kettle is on the kitchen counter.”

After getting a spoon and boiling a pot of purified water, Yan He walked back to her side and sat down on the sofa. She sat next to Shen Jinrong and reached out to feel her forehead.

It was very hot.

Shen Jinrong looked at her carefully.

“What’s the temperature? Did you take it?” Yan He lowered her head, suppressing the urge to cry.

Shen Jinrong pouted, her tone carrying a small complaint: “No. You woke me up by ringing the doorbell.” Yan He’s eyes widened. Before she could say anything, she saw Shen Jinrong sneak a glance at her, and then, as if afraid she might get angry, moved away slightly.

Yan He laughed in exasperation. Anger rushed to her head, and she instantly pulled the attempting-to-escape Shen Jinrong into her arms, grasping the exposed hand with one of her own. Then, the icy touch felt like a bucket of cold water being poured over her head. Yan He sighed: “Why is it so cold.” Having said that, she held her hand and didn’t let go. Shen Jinrong tried to pull it back, but she was weak from the fever. After several attempts failed, she gave up, letting her hand absorb warmth from the little one’s hand.

“Do you have a thermometer?”

“Yes.”

Yan He touched her head again: “Where is it?”

“In the cabinet below the TV.”

Yan He was about to get up to retrieve it, but Shen Jinrong suddenly grabbed her arm. When Yan He looked at her in confusion, Shen Jinrong pinched the corner of her shirt, looked down, and whispered, “Don’t go.”

“Don’t go, okay? It’s cold…”

Yan He’s heart was melting.

She tried to patiently reason with Shen Jinrong: “I need to take your temperature, and then we can see what medicine to take.” Shen Jinrong secretly pouted, releasing one of the fingers pinching the corner of Yan He’s shirt.

“Be a good girl, okay? The hot water is ready, too. I’ll pour a cup so you can warm your hands.” Yan He rubbed her head, but Shen Jinrong turned her head away and quietly said, “Don’t get too close. You’ll catch it.” Despite saying that, she eventually let Yan He go.

Yan He went to the cabinet under the TV to find the medicine box and sat back down next to Shen Jinrong. She placed the medicine box on her lap, using one hand to warm Shen Jinrong’s hand and the other to rummage inside: “Hmm… thermometer, found it!” She opened the blue cap, shook the thermometer, and after seeing the silver mercury drop below 35 degrees, she handed it to Shen Jinrong: “Hold it tightly.”

Shen Jinrong was completely curled up in the blanket. Just now, she had covered her head with the blanket, only revealing a pair of bright eyes. She quietly asked, “Where do I hold it?”

“Under your armpit.”

Yan He glanced at her shoulder, but Shen Jinrong covered herself up in panic: “What are you looking at!”

“Hold it under your armpit, here.” Yan He gestured to her and used a lot of effort to make Shen Jinrong realize she had no other intentions.

“Oh…”

Shen Jinrong obediently held it.

“Five minutes, I think.” Yan He set the timer on her phone and stood up again: “I’ll bring the water over. You can eat your congee now.”

As she walked over with the steaming hot water kettle and cup, Yan He saw Shen Jinrong sitting on the sofa looking distressedly at an already opened portion of plain congee.

“What’s wrong?” She poured a cup of water on the coffee table. “Doesn’t it taste good?”

Shen Jinrong pouted, sounding wronged: “…There’s no sugar added.”

“It doesn’t taste good!”

Yan He crossed her arms, pursed her lips, and looked at her seriously: “You need sugar?”

Shen Jinrong nodded.

Yan He sighed—she felt like she had been sighing all day today—and turned back to the kitchen: “Where is the sugar?”

“In the cabinet! There’s vanilla sugar! I want to eat that!”

One minute later, Yan He sat on the sofa, staring blankly at Shen Jinrong, who was eating the congee one small spoonful at a time while tightly clutching her hand.

Jie-jie…

She gets so childish when she’s sick.

She could see the unhealthy flush on her sister’s face, the moisture in her eyes, and even the wet sheen on her slightly pale lips where the congee had stuck. Yan He thought she must be crazy; she actually felt a strong urge to kiss her right now. But she knew she couldn’t.

The brightly colored blanket covering Shen Jinrong’s head looked somewhat comical, but the way she ate her congee, one tiny spoonful at a time, was serious and obedient, as if she were treating the bowl of congee before her with reverence.

Yan He was lost in watching her. Just as she was spacing out, the alarm she had set on her phone rang. Yan He quickly turned it off and held out her hand to Shen Jinrong: “The thermometer is ready. Give it to me.” Shen Jinrong put down the spoon and took out the thermometer with her right hand, handing it to Yan He.

The thermometer in her hand still carried her sister’s body temperature. Yan He didn’t know if it was her imagination or genuine, but she felt the thermometer in her palm seemed hot. She looked down at the mercury line, which had reached a high temperature of 38.9 degrees Celsius.

Yan He was startled.

She hadn’t been seriously ill since middle school, and her family had been healthy all these years. This was the first time she had seen someone with such a high fever, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to handle it.

She discussed it with Shen Jinrong: “How about we go to the hospital? You have a fever of 38.9 degrees; we need to have a doctor look at it.”

Shen Jinrong sniffled. She had only eaten a little bit of the congee and couldn’t eat anymore. She wrapped herself even tighter in the blanket, only revealing her eyes, and looked at Yan He timidly, as if trying to negotiate: “Can we not go to the hospital?” It was as if this way, she wouldn’t expose her fear of hospitals.

“Actually… it would be better if you went to the hospital now.”

Shen Jinrong’s eyes became even more watery. She looked at Yan He, wronged: “I don’t like hospitals.”

“Please, can we not go?”

“Yan He is the best!”

Yan He sighed, put the thermometer away and back into its box, and had no choice but to agree to her request. But she added, “If the fever reducer doesn’t work, we have to go to the hospital, understood?” Shen Jinrong hugged her blanket and nodded obediently.

Yan He lowered her head and started searching her phone for what to do for a high fever. The search results that popped up made her frown. Some suggested wiping the palms and soles of the feet with alcohol, while others suggested using an ice towel on the forehead to cool down.

After looking through the options, she decided to check the medicine box for medication first. Coincidentally, there was a box of fever-reducing medicine inside, which indicated it could be taken for temperatures above 38.5 degrees.

Yan He flipped through the instructions repeatedly and finally presented the box to Shen Jinrong, asking, “Are you allergic to this?”

Shen Jinrong glanced at it and shook her head: “No, I’m only allergic to Cephalosporin.”

“Then let’s take this first. You just finished eating, and this medicine should be taken after a meal.” Yan He took out the strip of pills, which contained small, round tablets.

“Is this bitter?” Shen Jinrong looked at the strip of six small white round tablets. The tiny pill triggered an unpleasant memory. In her memory, she seemed to have taken similar pills before, small, usually six tablets, but the after-effects were intense; she would fall into a deep sleep and remember nothing.

This unpleasant memory made her more resistant to the pill in front of her. Shen Jinrong looked at the strip of medicine, bit her lip, and quietly said, “This medicine must be very bitter… it doesn’t even have a sugar coating…”

Yan He had no medical knowledge. She looked at the strip of medicine in her hand and hesitated, saying truthfully, “I don’t know.”

“But if you drink water and swallow the pill quickly, it will be fine. The bitterness is only temporary; it will pass quickly.”

Shen Jinrong clearly didn’t buy what Yan He was selling. She tucked her two legs into the blanket, curling up into a ball, and looked at Yan He alertly. Moving a few steps toward the other end of the sofa, her gaze at Yan He was like she was looking at a monstrous flood. “I don’t want to take bitter medicine!”

Yan He sighed and stopped arguing about the topic with Shen Jinrong. She reached out and touched the glass cup on the coffee table. The water inside was still slightly steaming; the temperature wasn’t as hot as when it was first poured, warm and perfect for taking medicine.

She took both the pill strip and the glass cup in her hand, gently coaxing, “Be a good girl. We’ll take the medicine, sleep a while, and the sickness will be gone, okay?”

Shen Jinrong sniffled. She looked at the pill strip and suddenly closed her eyes. Many scenes flashed through her mind like a movie. For a moment, she couldn’t distinguish which were real and which were fake, or if the world in front of her was also an illusion.

Then, she opened her eyes and saw the little one looking at her with concern.

“I don’t like bitter things,” Shen Jinrong whispered.

Yan He thought of a compromise: “Then I’ll get the sugar. You can quickly eat a piece of candy after taking the medicine, okay?” Shen Jinrong frowned but finally agreed to her idea.

Yan He handed her one of the pills. Shen Jinrong looked at the tiny tablet in her palm, her face showing fear, but she quickly snapped back to her senses. She took the water Yan He offered with one hand and tossed the pill into her mouth with the other, swallowing it with great difficulty.

Then, she felt a small piece of rock candy being placed in her bitter-tasting mouth. When she opened her eyes wide, trying to look at Yan He, she only saw Yan He’s trembling eyelashes—after which, a warm and soft sensation was felt on her lips.

Shen Jinrong’s eyes widened.