🌸 chapter 16: Not Talkative
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Cheng Shubai’s gaze drifted past the screen and back into the living room.
Qi Ye was sunk deep into the sofa, face buried in a cushion, only a tuft of messy hair visible at the back of his head. His breathing was slow and even. That earlier irritated grunt had already disappeared, as if it had never happened.
He looked like an unguarded cat.
Cheng Shubai was silent for three seconds.
His fingertip hovered over the intercom button, then shifted away. He pressed mute instead.
The buzzing stopped instantly. The medical team’s serious faces remained on screen, but they became a silent backdrop.
He put down the receiver and walked back to the sofa, footsteps light.
His tall frame cast a faint shadow over the sleeping Qi Ye. He looked down, eyes sweeping over Qi Ye’s slightly tense shoulder line from lying on his side, then down to his curled ankle.
One sock had slipped off at some point. Bare toes curled unconsciously. Under the faint city light from outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the ankle bone drew a clear, almost fragile line.
Cheng Shubai didn’t speak.
He turned and walked to the smart control panel in the corner of the living room. With a few taps, the bright overhead lights went out without a sound.
Only a floor lamp beside the sofa remained, casting a soft amber glow, like a thin veil draped over the seating area.
Outside the glass windows, the city lights still glittered, but the dimmed glass softened them into gentle specks.
He adjusted the central air conditioning up by one degree. The air became warmer, more comfortable.
Only then did he sit down on the single armchair at the other end of the sofa, keeping a respectful distance.
The space fell completely quiet.
Only Qi Ye’s faint breathing and the low hum of the air system remained.
Cheng Shubai didn’t pick up his tablet. He didn’t read.
He just sat there, slightly leaned back, gaze resting on Qi Ye under the warm light, as if watching over something fragile.
His eyes behind the glasses were calm and still. Only his posture quietly filled the room with a steady presence.
Time passed.
Qi Ye’s head, buried in the cushion, shifted slightly.
His breathing changed.
Cheng Shubai noticed immediately, but didn’t move. He just watched.
Qi Ye was awake.
Or more accurately, he had never fully fallen asleep.
When the door alarm had rung earlier, he had been irritated enough to swear. But Cheng Shubai’s silence and subsequent actions, muting the sound, dimming the lights, raising the temperature, had pressed that anger back down like an invisible hand.
Pretending to sleep became the only awkward escape.
Now, wrapped in warm light, surrounded by the faint cold woody scent of Cheng Shubai, he could feel that gaze resting on him.
Not probing. Not pressing.
Just present.
That silent warmth made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t quite explain. It left him restless.
He stayed curled up, continuing to pretend.
But his thoughts were spiralling:
What exactly is Cheng Shubai doing? Waiting for me to crack? Watching me make a fool of myself? Or does he actually think I’m seriously sick?
At that moment, his phone in his coat pocket vibrated very lightly.
Zhou Wen.
Qi Ye’s eyelids twitched. He hesitated.
If he didn’t reply, it would look suspicious. If he did, typing while “asleep” with Cheng Shubai there would feel even more awkward.
While he was still struggling, a hand reached over.
Cheng Shubai had already stood up and walked over quietly.
Without waking the “sleeping” Qi Ye, he naturally reached into the pocket of his work jacket and took out the vibrating phone.
Qi Ye’s body instantly stiffened under the blanket.
His face almost broke character.
Cheng Shubai turned the screen on.
Several messages.
“Qi-ge!! Are you okay?! Did the medical team arrive???”
“Cheng-zong won’t let me up! I’m dying here! That Li guy is still being restrained but he’s acting like a mad dog, saying if Cheng doesn’t show up he’ll leak something! What nonsense is he even talking about??”
“Qi-ge say something please don’t scare me is your stomach okay what do you need I’ll bring it right away!!”
“[crying cat emoji]”
Cheng Shubai read them calmly.
Then he tapped out two replies.
“Qi Ye: I’m not dead. Quiet.”
“Qi Ye: Stomach’s fine. Keep talking and you’re blocked.”
He then muted the phone, placed it back into Qi Ye’s pocket, and adjusted it neatly as if nothing had happened.
Qi Ye: “……”
His molars itched.
Cheng Shubai didn’t leave.
Instead, he stood there for a moment, looking down at Qi Ye’s stiff neck and bare ankle.
Then he turned, walked to a storage cabinet, opened a drawer, and took out a brand-new soft grey fleece blanket.
He returned and gently unfolded it.
The blanket fell over Qi Ye like a warm cloud, covering him from head to toe, including the exposed ankle. He carefully tucked the edges in so it wouldn’t slip.
The warmth immediately replaced the slight chill in the air.
Qi Ye, still pretending to sleep, subconsciously relaxed a fraction without realising it.
Cheng Shubai straightened, lightly brushing his fingers over the blanket as if checking it was secure.
Then he walked away toward the kitchen.
The motion-sensor light turned on softly.
He removed his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves again, and opened the rice container.
He scooped out a small bowl of rice, rinsed it carefully, and set it in a small enamel pot with water.
He placed it on low heat and covered it.
Then he cut a lemon with steady precision, the scent spreading through the kitchen.
He made warm lemon water and brought it back to the living room, placing it on the coffee table beside Qi Ye.
Everything was done in silence.
He returned to the armchair, picked up his tablet, and resumed working.
The room became quiet again.
Only the faint bubbling of rice on low heat, and the occasional glow of the tablet screen.
Qi Ye lay under the blanket, breathing increasingly uneven.
The warmth, the smell of lemon water, the steady presence beside him, everything pressed in softly but persistently.
His throat tightened.
He swallowed.
Loudly.
Cheng Shubai’s finger paused.
He lowered his tablet slightly, then calmly took a sip of his own lemon water.
The glass made a soft “clink” as it returned to the table.
That sound broke the fragile standoff.
Qi Ye finally gave up.
He threw off part of the blanket, hair messy, eyes sharp with half-awake irritation.
“Water.”
Just one word. Demanding.
Cheng Shubai stood, poured a glass of lemon water, and walked over.
Qi Ye reached out immediately.
But Cheng Shubai stopped just short of handing it over.
“Hot,” he said calmly.
Qi Ye froze.
Then watched, annoyed, as Cheng Shubai gently rolled up his sleeve for him without a word, exposing his forearm.
Only then did he place the glass into Qi Ye’s hand.
Warm. Not hot.
Perfect.
Qi Ye glared, drank half the glass in one go.
The lemon water slid down his throat, easing the dryness instantly.
From the kitchen, the rice pot began to softly bubble.
The scent of rice grew stronger, richer, more persistent.
Qi Ye sniffed without meaning to, eyes drifting toward the kitchen.
Cheng Shubai noticed.
He stood up again.
Went to the pot.
Turned off the flame.
Steam burst upward when he lifted the lid, filling the space with thick, warm rice fragrance.
The smell flooded the entire room.
Qi Ye’s grip tightened on the glass.
He looked away stubbornly, but his attention betrayed him.
Cheng Shubai stirred the porridge slowly, checked it, then covered it again to let it rest.
He washed his hands, took out two small porcelain bowls and spoons, and placed them on the table.
Qi Ye stared at them.
What now?
Eat on my own?
Or… feed again?
Cheng Shubai didn’t explain.
He simply returned to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and took out a small brown ceramic jar.
Handwritten label: “Grandmother’s Pork Floss”.
The moment he opened it, a rich, savoury aroma spread.
He spooned a generous mound of golden pork floss onto a small plate.
Then he added pickled vegetables.
Finally, a small bottle of sesame oil.
He placed everything neatly around the empty bowls.
Then he served the porridge.
Thick, smooth, steaming.
He drizzled just two drops of sesame oil.
The fragrance exploded instantly.
Then he sprinkled pork floss like golden snow.
Finally, a few strips of glossy pickled vegetables.
A plain bowl of rice porridge transformed.
Warm. Rich. Irresistible.
Cheng Shubai set the spoon down and went to serve himself.
Qi Ye stared at the bowl.
All restraint collapsed.
He grabbed the spoon and took a huge bite.
Too hot.
But he swallowed anyway.
“…” a soft, involuntary sound escaped him.
His face flushed from the heat.
But he kept eating.
Cheng Shubai sat down beside him, eating his own bowl quietly.
No feeding this time.
No words.
Just the sound of quiet eating.
And the steady warmth of the room, filling everything between them.
I will be posting two chapters every Sunday and Wednesday.
(My translation is far from perfect, so if you see any mistakes please let me know in the comments)
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