Why Does First Love Feel This Sweet? - Chapter 21

Chapter: 21 The Best and Worst Nurse

Rong Yu had planned a seven-day honeymoon full of island-hopping and local culture, but on the very first day, he collapsed. The years of psychological burden, followed by the terror of thinking he’d lost Sheng Yi in the ocean the night before, finally broke even the disciplined Dr. Rong.

Sheng Yi sat by the bed, watching Rong Yu’s pale face and high fever, wanting to punch himself. As he swapped out ice packs and wiped away Rong Yu’s cold sweat, he felt a profound sense of role reversal. For three years, was this how Rong Yu looked at me?

By the second day, Rong Yu regained some strength. Sheng Yi, determined to be the “world’s best nurse,” decided to cook a nutritious meal.

“Don’t worry, Xiao Yu,” Sheng Yi said, standing by the bed in a yellow apron, wielding a kitchen knife with terrifying innocence. “I’m following the recipe exactly.”

Rong Yu, leaning weakly against the headboard in white silk pajamas, watched the glint of the blade and gave a resigned smile. “Okay.”

The beach house was an open-concept marvel with smart-glass walls, allowing them to see the ocean from every angle. It was a space designed for two people who had nothing to hide from one another. As Rong Yu tried to read medical journals on his tablet, his eyes kept drifting to the kitchen.

“Careful, don’t cut your hand,” he rasped.

“Rest, patient! Don’t worry so much,” Sheng Yi chirped. He was currently struggling with a purple cabbage, unsure if he should slice it horizontally or vertically. He eventually produced a salad, conveniently forgetting that he had only washed the outermost leaf.

Then came the centerpiece: Butter Potatoes. He had even texted Master Tu for the instructions. It seemed foolproof—slice, layer, butter, salt, bake.

An hour later, Sheng Yi brought the tray to the bed, his smile stiff. He presented a plate of charcoal-black potato slices. “Maybe… maybe we should just call the chef?”

Rong Yu took a fork and gingerly tasted a burnt slice. Sheng Yi gripped his apron, his voice small. “I tasted it. It’s… a little different from Master Tu’s.”

Rong Yu chewed slowly, his expression unreadable. “It’s not bad.”

“Really?”

Rong Yu nodded without a hint of irony. “Yes.”

Touched, Sheng Yi began to hand-feed him. He wanted Rong Yu to experience the same “service” he had received in the hospital. He didn’t eat a single bite himself, making sure the “starving” patient finished every last blackened scrap.

…

By midnight, the island doctor had to be called back.

“Acute gastroenteritis from bad food,” the doctor diagnosed as Rong Yu lay there, pale and breaking out in a cold sweat. “What did he eat?”

Sheng Yi stood by, ears red with guilt. “…Home cooking.”

Once the doctor left, Sheng Yi climbed into bed and curled up in Rong Yu’s arms, feeling dejected. “Xiao Yu, am I useless?”

Rong Yu stroked his hair, his voice weak and hoarse. “Artists don’t need to be grounded in the mundane world. You are unique, Teacher Sheng.”

“But I can’t even take care of you.”

“You can take care of me in other ways,” Rong Yu whispered, pulling him closer. “Just stay by my side. Don’t leave for too long.”

…

The honeymoon became a period of quiet recovery. Sheng Yi realized that Rong Yu didn’t need grand gestures; he just needed Sheng Yi to be within arm’s reach at all times.

On the final day, Rong Yu was finally well enough for a real bath. Sheng Yi had been too shy to offer help before—there was something about touching Rong Yu’s skin that made his heart race—but when Rong Yu invited him to join, he couldn’t say no.

They sat in the massive bathtub in the center of the room, under a ceiling of stars. The silver moonlight spilled over the beach outside. Sheng Yi looked at Rong Yu—the broad shoulders, the clean lines of his muscles, the elegance of a Greek statue.

“I love it here,” Sheng Yi said, resting his chin on his knees. “I’d love to grow old here.”

“We can,” Rong Yu replied, leaning back. “If, by that time, you still want to be here.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Rong Yu looked down, his voice cold and analytical. “When your memories fully return, you might leave me. To find the girl you once loved.”

“Forget her,” Sheng Yi said, sensing the sudden drop in temperature. “Even if I remember her, I won’t go looking for her.”

Before he could finish, Rong Yu lunged forward, splashing water everywhere. He gripped Sheng Yi’s chin and bit into his lower lip. It was a desperate, primal kiss. Sheng Yi could feel Rong Yu’s heart racing against his palm—a stark contrast to his calm exterior.

In the heat of the moment, Sheng Yi winced as their wedding rings clattered together. “Switch hands,” he groaned, biting Rong Yu’s shoulder in retaliation. “The ring is hurting!”

Rong Yu didn’t listen. He pressed Sheng Yi’s head against his shoulder, letting him bite. When it was over, Rong Yu’s shoulder bore faint red marks, but he only looked at Sheng Yi with melting tenderness.

Sheng Yi took a breath, then suddenly ducked his head underwater.

“Hang-hang?” Rong Yu frowned, reaching for him, but Sheng Yi caught his hand underwater, placing it on his floating, soft hair. When Sheng Yi finally surfaced, his wet hair clung to his face, but his eyes were filled with a wild, fearless light.

Sheng Yi wiped his mouth and reached out to cup Rong Yu’s face.

“Rong Yu, are you stupid?” Sheng Yi laughed, a dash of his old, arrogant charm returning. “Let’s get this straight. I’m falling in love with you after our marriage. As long as you still want me, I’m not going to be with anyone else.”