Why Does The "Fishing Queen" Always Flirt With Me? - Chapter 44

After finishing the white porridge Mo Lai had brought back, Tang Wangyue took another pill. Her nightstand was now a fortress of hydration: a 2L thermal jug filled with lukewarm water, a thermos of hot water, and a small water dispenser Mo Lai had managed to have delivered.

Mo Lai’s goal was simple: ensure Wangyue wouldn’t have to get out of bed for a drink. After setting everything up, Mo Lai left with a final stern reminder: “Drink all of this. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Wangyue stayed curled in a tight ball under the covers. Her body felt like lead, her head was a fog, and her throat burned. It had been a long time since she’d had a cold this severe. Thankfully, the medicine was working; the “razor blade” feeling in her throat had dulled since the middle of the night.

The pills made her drowsy, but she couldn’t stay asleep, drifting in and out of fitful dreams. At noon, Mo Lai returned with a more flavorful green vegetable and pork porridge. She watched Wangyue eat and take her medicine before checking her temperature again. “Tsk. Watch out for a fever spike this afternoon.”

“Mmm,” Wangyue hummed. She felt slightly better, but she knew the drill—fevers usually returned in the evening. It would take at least two days to break.

Once Mo Lai left, Wangyue made a shaky trip to the bathroom to wash up. She sat on the sofa for a moment, but the drowsiness hit her like a sedative. She stumbled back to bed. She hadn’t expected her usually sturdy constitution to fail so spectacularly; likely, the stress and lack of exercise recently had finally caught up to her.

Turns out I’m really not suited for a 9-to-5 life, she thought dizzily before falling back into a deep sleep.

******

That afternoon, her sleep was more peaceful. She woke up, but before she even opened her eyes, she heard voices nearby. Is this a fever dream?

“It’s just a common cold, not the flu. Don’t worry, Miss Yun.”

Miss Yun? Yun Chuxian? Why were they in her room?

Earlier that day, Chuxian had been completely out of it on set. She’d botched several takes before finally finding her rhythm. She’d sent Bai Yu to check on Wangyue, and the report from Mo Lai had been grim. Unable to focus, she’d asked Director Sun to end her shoot two hours early and brought the set doctor back to the guesthouse.

Sun Ran, still spooked by Chuxian’s low blood sugar episode from the day before, had agreed immediately. When she saw Chuxian leaving with the doctor, she assumed the star was unwell and sent Mo Lai to follow. Learning it was for Tang Wangyue made her breathe a sigh of relief—followed by a moment of realization.

Since when did Yun Chuxian care about Tang Wangyue this much?

Sun Ran began to put the pieces together. Wangyue was talented and beautiful—it wasn’t strange for Chuxian to be interested. It was just a shame for her own daughter, Muyao. Sun Ran didn’t mind her daughter liking women, and she’d seen the spark Muyao had for Wangyue. She’d even tried to help by pushing Wangyue toward the Jingwei deal to boost her career.

But now, with Wangyue selling three scripts to Jingwei and another to Chuxian’s company, she was a rising star in her own right. Muyao’s chance was slim. Even Sun Ran admitted that if she had to choose between her daughter and Yun Chuxian, she’d pick Chuxian too.

******

In the room, the doctor left, and Chuxian whispered, “Are you awake?”

Wangyue’s eyes flew open. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t.” Chuxian had only seen her eyelashes flutter once and took a gamble.

Wangyue: “…” As expected of ‘Sister,’ she has me completely figured out.

“Is the shoot over?”

“Mmm.” Chuxian looked at her with a cool, sharp gaze. “Why did you get sick?”

Wangyue avoided her eyes, staring at the ceiling with a guilty conscience. “Maybe just tired.”

“If you’re tired, why aren’t you sleeping?” Chuxian was genuinely angry—angry that Wangyue hadn’t cherished her own health.

“You know?” Wangyue asked. She realized Chuxian wasn’t just asking about the cold; she knew about the 1:00 AM trip to the supermarket. She immediately put on a piteous face. “Sister, it hurts.”

“What hurts? Where?” Chuxian panicked instantly, reaching for her phone to call the doctor back.

Wangyue felt a sweet warmth in her chest. She pointed to her throat. “Hurts. I need water.”

Chuxian turned away to hide her concern. Right, a heavy cold. Of course her throat hurts. She poured water and brought it over. “Sit up and drink.”

“Can’t.”

She could, of course, but she wanted the attention. Chuxian didn’t stay angry; she was too worried. She had watched Wangyue sleep with a furrowed brow, and it had made her heart ache. She tested the water temperature on the back of her hand before holding the straw to Wangyue’s lips. “Small sips. Don’t choke.”

No matter how stern she tried to look, she couldn’t hide the tenderness in her voice.

“What do you want for dinner?” Chuxian asked after Wangyue had finished drinking.

“Not hungry.” She really wasn’t; she had no appetite at all.

“Yue, be good.”

Hearing that gentle voice, Wangyue folded instantly. “Anything is fine.”

Chuxian ruffled her hair. “Mo Lai said you had porridge twice today. Let’s have noodles tonight. Something soft so it doesn’t hurt your throat.”

“Okay.”

Wangyue watched Chuxian’s elegant, cold face. Her voice was so warm, yet her expression remained guarded. But Wangyue knew she had softened. After coldly pushing her away the night before, she couldn’t help but come running the moment she heard she was sick.

“Aren’t you afraid of catching it?” Wangyue asked. If the lead actress got sick, the whole project would stop.

Chuxian pinched her ear. “I am.”

She was worried, both for herself and for the production. She only took off her mask once the doctor confirmed it was just a standard cold. She cared about the shoot, but her own performance suffered when she didn’t know if Wangyue was okay.

Chuxian leaned down and pressed her forehead against Wangyue’s to check her temperature. Feeling it wasn’t too high, she relaxed. “Stay in bed.”

She turned to leave, but Wangyue caught her hand. “Where are you going?”

“To make you dinner.”

Wangyue let go reluctantly, her heart full. Chuxian had said she was “afraid,” yet she hadn’t hesitated to close the distance for a forehead-to-forehead check. In that moment, Wangyue’s heart had pounded so hard she thought it would jump out of her throat.

Left alone, Wangyue went to wash up, a permanent smile on her face. She cares about me. She’s thinking about me.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Yun Chuxian frowned at the dough on the counter. It had been a long time since she’d cooked, and her skills were rusty. After adding flour twice and water three times, she finally got the consistency right.

Hand-pulled noodles with shredded pork and greens. She wondered if her “little liar” would like it.

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