Chapter 30

From start to finish, he’d always been the same awful boy—
The one no one could ever really love.
Meeting Duan Baisui’s gaze at the bottom of the stairs, Zuo Nian caught the flicker of panic in his eyes.
“What… are you doing here?” Duan Baisui heard his own voice come out tight and rough, nothing like its usual cool steadiness.
The cooling pad on his forehead, his eyes flushed scarlet from fever, Zuo Nian smiled at him as he always did. “Nian‑nian had a fever, so I came home early.”
Duan Baisui opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the friend beside him shuffled closer, clearly rattled. “Uh, um, hi, S‑sister‑in‑law. Long… long time no see,” Zhou Xu stammered.
Zuo Nian lifted a hand in a little wave. “Hi.”
“I just got back to the country and haven’t fixed my jet lag,” Zhou Xu blurted. “My brain’s not working. If I said anything I shouldn’t have, please don’t take it to heart.”
“Why would you say that?” Zuo Nian asked softly.
Propping himself against the wall, he struggled to his feet. “I was just looking for Snowy,” he said. “She ran too fast, I couldn’t catch her. I think I twisted my ankle. She really doesn’t listen. I’ll go check upstairs again.”
When Duan Baisui moved to support him, Zuo Nian stopped him. “Gege, your friend’s here. Nian‑nian can manage. It’s okay.”
Clinging to the hope that maybe he hadn’t heard, Duan Baisui told himself that if he had, he’d have been sobbing by now.
This calm, mild demeanor was… perfectly normal. Perfectly fine.
Once he was gone, Zhou Xu smacked himself across the face. “My damn mouth! You don’t think he heard all of that, do you?”
Staring up the empty staircase, Duan Baisui said, “Probably not.”
But something still felt off.
“Seriously, your wife is sick and you’re not going to check on him?” Zhou Xu nudged him.
Jolted back to himself, Duan Baisui hurried upstairs.
The nursery was empty save for Snowy, who was lying on the cat tree, contentedly grooming her fur.
Opening the bedroom door, he found Zuo Nian curled up on the bed, the blanket pulled over his head.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he patted the lump gently through the covers. “When did the fever start?”
No answer.
He reached for the blanket, but Zuo Nian clutched it tighter. His muffled voice was thick with congestion. “Gege… Nian‑nian took his medicine. I’m really sleepy. Can I just sleep for a while?”
“You can’t sleep with your head covered. What if you suffocate?”
“Nian‑nian might be a dummy, but I still know how to breathe,” he said hoarsely.
Releasing the blanket, Duan Baisui said, “All right. Rest for now. I’ll bring your dinner up later.”
“Mm.”
Back downstairs, Zhou Xu was smoking on the balcony.
“He okay?” he asked when he heard footsteps.
“He just took his medicine. He’s drowsy and wants to sleep,” Duan Baisui said.
Aunt Liu brought out a plate of fruit. “When did his fever start?” Duan Baisui asked.
“I’m not exactly sure,” she said. “He came home around noon, bought his own medicine and cooling pads, and went straight upstairs. I think he took the pills before he lay down.”
Relief eased the knot in his chest. At least the fever was being treated.
For dinner, Aunt Liu cooked yam and pork‑rib soup. She said Zuo Nian had specially asked her to buy the ingredients to help warm Duan Baisui’s stomach and drive out the chill.
“Honestly, your wife really loves you,” Zhou Xu said. “With that frosty face of yours and the way you’re always away or out drinking, anyone else would’ve given up on you ages ago. But him? He’s never changed. He’s been waiting for you this whole time. That’s devotion.”
A touch of pride slipped into Duan Baisui’s voice. “Jealous?”
“Of what? I’m doing fine,” Zhou Xu sniffed. “For all you know, my first love still pines for me.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“That’s it. Go feed your wife before I lose my appetite,” Zhou Xu grumbled.
Ignoring him, Duan Baisui ladled out a bowl of soup and headed upstairs.
The bedroom lights were off. Only the hallway glow spilled in through the open door.
He set the small porcelain bowl on the nightstand.
Zuo Nian was still asleep, this time with his face uncovered.
The cooling pad was gone. Testing his forehead with his hand, Duan Baisui couldn’t quite tell if the fever had broken, so he bent down and pressed his own forehead to his.
It didn’t feel hot anymore. Just slick with sweat—his temples and neck were damp, and his cheeks flushed pink.
Rubbing the tip of his nose against his, he dropped a light kiss on his cheek.
That finally roused him.
Eyes ringed with red and still damp at the corners, he looked unbearably fragile.
“Time for dinner,” Duan Baisui said, slipping an arm around him to help him sit up.
With a searching gaze, Zuo Nian studied his face for a long time before obediently taking the bowl and drinking his soup. The hair at the back of his head stuck up in tufts, more adorably silly than ever.
“Gege, aren’t you eating?” he asked in a raspy voice.
“After you. I’ll eat downstairs,” Duan Baisui said, straightening his hair.
But those stubborn tufts had a mind of their own, springing back up no matter how he smoothed them. Amused, he kept ruffling the two little cowlicks.
Setting the bowl aside, Zuo Nian pressed his warm palm to Duan Baisui’s stomach. “Your stomach hurts. Go eat. I asked Aunt Liu to make this especially for you. You have to drink it while it’s hot. Nian‑nian’s fine. I already feel much better.”
Even now, he was only thinking of him.
Affection swelled in Duan Baisui’s chest. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”
Lashes lowering, Zuo Nian said, “It’s just a cold. Gege’s… very busy.”
“You can still tell me. From now on, you don’t have to go through Luo Yin. Call me directly, any time,” Duan Baisui said, bending closer.
Zuo Nian turned his head, dodging the kiss. “It’s contagious. No kissing…”
With a soft laugh, Duan Baisui settled for kissing his forehead and the crown of his head.
Once he’d watched him finish the soup and murmured a few more soothing words, he went downstairs again.
Zhou Xu hadn’t touched his chopsticks yet. He was still glued to his phone.
“How is he?” he asked as soon as he saw him.
“The fever’s gone. He’s just wiped out. If he’s still not better tomorrow, I’ll have Dr. Lu swing by,” Duan Baisui said.
“See?” Zhou Xu elbowed him. “You do like him. You’re nothing like you were in middle school.”
Serving himself a bowl of soup, Duan Baisui didn’t bother to deny it. “You’re right. I like him.”
After dinner, he asked Aunt Liu to make up a guest room for Zhou Xu.
Jet‑lagged and exhausted, Zhou Xu begged off from going out to party, yawning his way upstairs to bed.
Once everything was arranged, Duan Baisui headed straight back up.
This time, Zuo Nian was awake.
He’d just come out of the shower. His hair was still slightly damp, and he’d changed into a fresh set of pajamas in soft blue that made his skin look even paler.
Sitting down beside him, Duan Baisui cupped his face. “You’re still sick. Why did you shower?”
Head bowed, Zuo Nian muttered, “Nian‑nian was smelly. I had to.”
“Really? Let me see.” Leaning in, Duan Baisui sniffed at his hair—and stole a kiss at the base of his neck. “Doesn’t smell bad at all. Smells good.”
Squirming away with a shiver, Zuo Nian said, “Only because I washed. Otherwise I would smell.”
Maybe it was the illness, but he seemed even slower and more listless than usual, every movement drained of energy.
Heart aching, Duan Baisui said, “I’ll shower and then we’ll go to bed early.”
In his mind, sharing a bed was a given now. Every night, they slept wrapped around each other. How could it be otherwise?
But when he came out of the bathroom, Zuo Nian was still hugging his doll on his own side of the bed, eyes already drifting shut.
“Not sleeping with me tonight?” he asked, amused.
“Mm. Nian‑nian will sleep alone,” Zuo Nian murmured without opening his eyes.
The smile froze on his face.
Leaning over him, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
Hiding half his face under the covers, Zuo Nian said, “If I have a cold, I’ll pass it to you.”
There it was again—the same excuse he’d used that afternoon to dodge his kisses.
It was as if he were trying to put distance between them.
Thinking of what had happened earlier, Duan Baisui asked, “Did you… hear something?”
“Heard what? Nothing. Nian‑nian’s really sleepy. Didn’t you say we should go to bed early?” Zuo Nian replied.
So maybe everything was fine.
Or maybe it wasn’t.
Either way, he couldn’t read him right now.
Not wanting to push, he turned off the light and went back to his side.
Only then did he realize just how big the bed truly was.
With one person on each side, he couldn’t even brush Zuo Nian’s arm.
He didn’t like it.
Staring up into the darkness, he found himself unable to sleep. In the end, he gave up, groped his way across the mattress, and slipped under Zuo Nian’s covers instead, wrapping his arms around him from behind.
“If I catch it, I catch it,” he whispered. “It’s just a little cold.”
The next morning, when he woke up, Zuo Nian was already dressed.
He didn’t lie in his arms and cuddle as usual. Instead, he’d gotten ready neatly and was standing by the bed to wish him good morning.
For a moment, Duan Baisui was at a loss.
Zuo Nian took another day off to rest and didn’t go to the shop.
He saw him out the door, tying his tie for him as always and reminding him to be careful on the road.
“Well, well, someone’s showing off,” Zhou Xu teased from the side.
Zuo Nian just smiled and said nothing.
Only Duan Baisui knew how different he’d been since the day before.
Different how?
He couldn’t quite say.
After the morning meeting, Duan Yan asked, “Is Xiao Xu staying with you?”
“He was, but he moved to a hotel first thing this morning,” Duan Baisui replied. “Said his mother wired him money last night.”
“Hah. That boy’s given his father quite the scare,” Duan Yan said. “Pulling a runaway act at his age… His dad said he’d probably show up at your place, and he was right. He’s still in A City. Keep an eye on him when you can. And if you get a chance, talk some sense into him. He and his father can’t keep this up. His dad’s blood pressure’s up to one‑eighty—he says the kid’ll be the death of him.”
“All right,” Duan Baisui said.
That afternoon, he was buried in project proposals when the landline from home rang.
His eyelid twitched.
He had a bad feeling.
The moment he picked up, Aunt Liu’s panicked voice came through. “Young Master, something’s wrong. Mr. Zuo’s locked himself in his room and he won’t stop crying. I knocked and knocked and he won’t open the door. He sounds… he sounds really bad. He keeps calling your name.”
Leaping to his feet, Duan Baisui asked, “How’s his cold? Any better today?”
“He seemed fine this morning,” she said. “His face was really red, and when I asked if he still had a fever, he said no. He ate lunch and went back upstairs. Not long after, he started crying.”
A suspicion flashed through Duan Baisui’s mind.
Maybe this wasn’t a cold at all.
Maybe his Omega’s first real heat had arrived.
He had Luo Yin prepare the car at once and raced home.
As he reached the stairs, a wave of cloying, sugar‑sweet scent washed over him.
He turned to Aunt Liu. “Do we have a spare key?”
“I just found it. Here,” she said, handing it over. “Should I call Dr. Lu?”