🌸 Chapter 19: A Cat with Its Tail Stepped On
The dark gray cashmere cardigan Cheng Shubai held out hovered before Qi Ye like a warm, impossibly soft cloud.
The air still carried the faint tang of spilled lemonade, mingling with the lingering sweetness of the molten custard that had only moments ago been wiped from his fingers.
Qi Ye stared at the cardigan.
Then he looked down at the pale yellow stains splashed across the cuff of his jacket.
Once again, that absurd feeling washed over him—
As if he were some fragile, delicate thing that needed to be carefully looked after.
He opened his mouth.
The words I can change by myself rose to his lips…
Only to die there the moment his eyes met Cheng Shubai’s.
That calm, unreadable gaze carried the same quiet certainty as always.
It wasn’t forceful.
It simply left no room for refusal.
…Damn it.
Qi Ye cursed inwardly.
Half annoyed, half resigned, he snatched the cardigan from Cheng Shubai’s hand and began undoing the buttons on his stained work jacket with none too much care.
Watching from the sidelines, Qi Lang looked as though his eyeballs were about to pop out.
The wet wipe in his hand slipped from his fingers and landed with a soft plop on the coffee table he’d only just finished cleaning.
His eyes darted between Qi Ye—wearing a thunderous expression as he changed clothes—and Cheng Shubai, who simply stood there, quietly waiting.
His mouth opened and closed several times without making a sound.
In the end, all that came out was an airy, deeply impressed,
“…Wow.”
Qi Ye stripped off the work jacket in two swift motions and tossed it onto the sofa’s armrest with enough force to stir the air.
Just as he was about to slip on the cashmere cardigan, his movements abruptly halted.
Without warning, a sharp chill crept up his spine.
He shivered.
A dry itch blossomed in the back of his throat, and he instinctively turned his head aside, suppressing a couple of coughs.
“Cough… cough…”
The sound wasn’t loud.
But in the suddenly quiet living room, it was unmistakably clear.
Even Qi Ye froze for a moment.
The hangover from the night before.
The chaos of the morning.
The cold sweat Qi Lang had scared out of him with one surprise after another.
It was as though all the exhaustion he’d been holding at bay had finally found an opening.
A wave of deep, bone-weary fatigue surged up from somewhere inside him, leaving his limbs strangely heavy.
Cheng Shubai’s gaze immediately shifted to him.
A trace of sharp scrutiny entered his eyes.
He stepped forward.
The distance between them disappeared in an instant.
The cool scent of cedarwood surrounding Cheng Shubai mixed with the crisp air of the morning, quietly enveloping Qi Ye.
Instinctively, Qi Ye wanted to take a step back beneath that sudden closeness.
But Cheng Shubai was faster.
He raised a hand.
Long, elegant fingers settled against Qi Ye’s forehead.
His palm was cool.
Dry.
Its gentle touch carried an odd sense of quiet authority that was impossible to resist.
Qi Ye’s entire body went rigid.
He even forgot to cough.
The simple warmth of that hand resting against his forehead sent his scalp tingling.
A current of electricity seemed to shoot from the point of contact, spreading through his entire body in an instant.
He could clearly feel Cheng Shubai’s cool fingertips resting near his hairline.
The faint pressure sent an involuntary shiver through him.
Cheng Shubai’s brows slowly knit together.
His hand didn’t withdraw immediately.
Instead, it remained there for several long seconds, as though carefully gauging the warmth beneath Qi Ye’s skin.
Then Cheng Shubai lifted his other hand.
As naturally as if it were second nature, he reached toward the pulse point at the side of Qi Ye’s neck.
His cool fingertips came to rest lightly against the warm skin there, silently counting the steady rhythm beneath them.
This time, Qi Ye truly didn’t dare move.
He stood frozen, like a puppet with its strings cut.
Holding his breath, he felt the spot on his neck where Cheng Shubai touched him burn as though branded by hot iron.
His heartbeat immediately slipped out of his control.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
It pounded violently against his ribs until even his ears seemed to echo with it.
Forced to tilt his head back, his eyes had nowhere to settle except on Cheng Shubai’s sharply defined jawline…
…and the subtle movement of his Adam’s apple.
Damn it…
Does checking someone’s temperature really require getting this close?!
“A little warm.”
At last, Cheng Shubai withdrew his hand.
His voice was low, carrying a hint of concern that was almost too subtle to detect.
Looking down at Qi Ye’s flushed face—whether from fever or embarrassment, even he couldn’t quite tell—his gaze darkened slightly behind his glasses.
“Go lie down.”
“Lie down for what? I’m perfectly fine.”
Qi Ye had reached the limit of his patience.
He swatted Cheng Shubai’s hand away from where it still lingered near his neck, the motion sharper than he’d intended.
In a huff, he yanked the cashmere cardigan over his shoulders.
The impossibly soft fabric wrapped around him at once.
Yet it did nothing to drive away the chill seeping from deep inside his bones—
Or the inexplicable heat simmering beneath his skin.
Lifting his chin stubbornly, he tried to drown out his body’s betrayal with sheer volume.
“I just broke out in a cold sweat because that idiot scared the hell out of me. Then the breeze hit me—that’s all.”
The “idiot” in question immediately raised both hands in surrender.
“Alright, alright, my fault! Totally my fault.” Qi Lang laughed sheepishly. “Engineer Qi, please be magnanimous?”
Turning toward Cheng Shubai, he put on his most ingratiating smile.
“Just look at him, President Cheng. He’s got plenty of energy to yell, so he’s obviously fine! Why don’t we get back to discussing the exhibition…”
Cheng Shubai ignored the attempt to change the subject.
His gaze remained fixed on Qi Ye.
Qi Ye was still forcing himself to stand straight, but the focus in his eyes had noticeably dulled.
The unnatural flush staining his cheeks had deepened as well.
Qi Lang tilted his head.
“…”
Hiss…
Huh.
…Wow.
This damn romantic tension…
Without another word, Cheng Shubai turned and walked toward a tall built-in cabinet tucked into the corner of the living room.
The cabinet door slid open silently.
Inside were no decorations.
Instead, it housed a meticulously organized medicine cabinet, arranged with the precision of a miniature pharmacy.
Every medication was sorted into categories.
Every label was perfectly clear.
Cheng Shubai’s fingers moved swiftly and unerringly across the shelves.
Without needing to read a single label, he selected exactly what he wanted—
An electronic thermometer.
An unopened cooling patch.
And a box of cold medicine.
Carrying them back, he stopped in front of Qi Ye.
Holding out the silver thermometer, he spoke in the same calm tone as always.
Only this time, it carried an unmistakable edge of authority.
“Take your temperature.”
Qi Ye looked at the thermometer.
Then at Cheng Shubai’s expression, which made it abundantly clear that this wasn’t up for discussion.
The irritation he’d barely suppressed flared back to life.
“I’m not doing it.”
He reached out, intending to push the thermometer aside.
“I already told you—I’m fine.”
Cheng Shubai’s hand didn’t move an inch.
His other hand, still holding the cooling patch and the medicine, rested quietly at his side.
Behind the lenses of his glasses, his dark eyes remained fixed on Qi Ye.
When he spoke again, his voice wasn’t loud.
Yet it carried a quiet pressure that was impossible to ignore.
“Qi Ye.”
He spoke only his name.
Nothing more.
But the meaning in his gaze couldn’t have been clearer.
Either you take it yourself…
…or I will.
Qi Ye’s heart skipped.
The irritation that had been building inside him was inexplicably smothered by half the force of that single look.
Grumbling under his breath, he tugged irritably at the collar of the cashmere cardigan before finally giving in with all the indignation of someone admitting defeat.
He snatched the thermometer from Cheng Shubai’s hand.
The cool metal tip made him shiver all over again.
“There. Happy now?”
Qi Ye shot him a glare.
Qi Lang silently assessed the situation.
Mm. Bad temper.
Without a word, Cheng Shubai set the cooling patch and medicine on the coffee table before turning toward the kitchen.
He opened the refrigerator and took out an unopened bottle of purified water.
Unscrewing the cap, he poured a little into a clean glass, then added hot water from the temperature-controlled dispenser until it reached a comfortably warm temperature.
Qi Lang nodded to himself.
Mm. Thoughtful.
Carrying the glass back, Cheng Shubai placed it on the coffee table in front of Qi Ye, right beside the cold medicine.
Qi Lang’s eyes darted back and forth between Cheng Shubai and the visibly irritable Qi Ye, who was now awkwardly holding the thermometer in place.
Silently, he reevaluated the situation.
The more he watched, the more confused he became about how the world apparently worked.
The room fell quiet.
Seconds ticked by.
Qi Ye sat stiffly with the thermometer tucked under his arm, growing more uncomfortable by the minute.
The alternating waves of heat and chills became even more pronounced.
With an impatient sigh, he leaned back against the sofa.
Even the luxurious softness of the cashmere cardigan couldn’t ease the exhaustion and soreness that seemed to seep from his bones.
He closed his eyes.
His brows remained tightly furrowed.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The electronic thermometer finally sounded, breaking the silence.
Qi Ye opened his eyes.
With the air of someone who had completely given up arguing, he pulled the thermometer from under his arm.
Without even glancing at the display, he casually tossed it toward Cheng Shubai.
“There.”
Cheng Shubai caught it with one hand.
Lowering his gaze, he looked at the LCD screen.
37.8°C.
The numbers glowed clearly.
His expression darkened.
Looking back at Qi Ye, there was now a sharper edge to his gaze.
“A low-grade fever.”
After a brief pause, he asked,
“Did you catch a chill last night?”
Qi Ye turned his face away without answering.
It’s not like I did anything…
I just ended up sleeping on the sofa wrapped in a blanket…
…Okay, maybe that was asking for it.
Cheng Shubai didn’t press the issue any further.
He set the thermometer on the coffee table, picked up the box of cold medicine, peeled back the foil blister pack, and popped out two white tablets.
Then he lifted the glass of warm water and held it out together with the medicine.
“Take them.”
It was still a command.
But compared to before, there was less force behind it.
Instead, it carried a quiet insistence that left no room for refusal.
Qi Ye looked at the two tablets.
Then at the faint wisps of steam rising from the warm water.
Finally, his gaze settled on Cheng Shubai’s calm face.
The slight nausea churning in his stomach from the fever seemed, strangely enough, to ease beneath the sight of that warm glass of water…
…and the barely perceptible concern hidden in Cheng Shubai’s eyes.
Pressing his lips together, Qi Ye finally gave in.
Not willingly.
But without another argument.
He reached out and accepted both the medicine and the glass.
Tilting his head back, he tossed the tablets into his mouth and washed them down with a long swallow of warm water.
The whole sequence was swift and efficient, carrying the unmistakable attitude of someone who simply wanted to get it over with.
Only after watching him swallow the medicine did Cheng Shubai pick up the cooling patch.
He tore open the package and removed the cool gel strip.
Instead of handing it over, he simply reached up.
With the ease of someone who considered it perfectly natural, he brushed aside the sweat-damp strands of hair clinging to Qi Ye’s forehead.
His movements weren’t particularly gentle.
But they were precise.
The cooling patch, chilled and carrying a faint hint of mint, settled firmly against Qi Ye’s burning forehead.
The sudden burst of cold made him shudder.
Instinctively, he tried to pull away.
“Don’t move.”
Cheng Shubai’s low voice sounded above him.
One hand held the cooling patch securely in place.
The other slid naturally to the back of Qi Ye’s neck.
Through the soft cashmere cardigan, his fingers closed around the tense muscles there, applying just enough pressure.
There was something oddly soothing about the gesture.
Like a hand calmly gripping the scruff of an angry cat.
In an instant, every instinct Qi Ye had to struggle simply… dissolved.
The cool touch of Cheng Shubai’s fingertips against the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck sent another involuntary tremor through him.
His breath caught.
Cheng Shubai kept his hand there for several seconds, making sure the cooling patch was firmly attached before finally letting go.
The coolness and gentle pressure disappeared.
But the lingering sensation of having been held there remained.
“Lie down and get some rest.”
Cheng Shubai withdrew his hand.
His tone left no room for negotiation.
He gestured toward the larger, more comfortable sofa nearby.
The cooling patch rested against Qi Ye’s forehead, and the medicine had already begun to take effect.
The determination he’d been stubbornly clinging to deflated like a punctured balloon.
Weariness crashed over him in waves.
His eyelids grew so heavy he could barely keep them open.
This time, he didn’t argue.
Nor did he have the strength to.
Unsteady on his feet, he shuffled over to the long sofa, driven less by obedience than by sheer exhaustion.
Curling up, he sank into the cushions.
Cheng Shubai picked up the thick fleece blanket Qi Ye had used earlier and carefully draped it over him.
He tucked it in with quiet precision—
Even making sure his ankles were completely covered.
“You must be… Qi Lang.”
Turning toward the flamboyant peacock who had been watching everything with undisguised astonishment, Cheng Shubai’s voice returned to its usual calmness.
Yet there was an invisible pressure beneath it.
“Email me the detailed exhibition proposal.”
He glanced toward the now half-asleep Qi Ye.
“He needs to rest.”
Qi Lang nodded so vigorously he looked like a pecking chicken.
“Got it, got it, President Cheng. Don’t worry, I’ll organize everything and send it over. Qi Ye, just focus on getting better.”
He quickly packed away his tablet and oversized canvas bag.
Before leaving, he glanced toward the sofa, where Qi Ye was wrapped so tightly in the blanket that he resembled a silkworm cocoon.
Silently mouthing Take care, Qi Lang gave him a look that somehow managed to combine Brother, you’re on your own with President Cheng is seriously incredible.
The front door clicked shut behind him.
The spacious living room fell quiet once more.
Only the low hum of the air conditioner remained.
Wrapped snugly beneath the thick blanket, a cooling patch on his forehead, Qi Ye felt the drowsiness from the medicine steadily deepen.
His eyes stayed closed.
His consciousness drifted, buoyed as though floating on warm water.
Through the haze, he sensed that Cheng Shubai hadn’t left.
Soft footsteps moved quietly through the living room.
It sounded like he was tidying up the remains of breakfast on the coffee table.
A moment later came the sound of a faucet running.
Then shutting off.
The footsteps approached again.
Something cool and faintly damp brushed gently against the skin of Qi Ye’s exposed wrist, where it had slipped free from beneath the blanket.
His muddled mind stirred.
Instinctively, he wanted to pull his hand back.
But he didn’t have the strength.
Cheng Shubai merely used a damp, soft cloth to quickly wipe away the last sticky trace of custard that had been left on Qi Ye’s wrist from the molten bun earlier.
The motion was so light it felt like the brush of a feather.
The instant he was finished, he withdrew his hand again.
As though he’d simply been cleaning away the final unsightly smudge.
The faint coolness evaporated almost immediately beneath Qi Ye’s body heat.
All that remained was a pleasant sense of freshness.
Somehow, that tiny sensation coaxed the last tension from his body.
The coolness on his forehead.
The warmth of the blanket.
The medicine pulling him toward sleep.
And the faint, lingering scent of cool cedarwood hanging in the air…
Together, they wove themselves into a gentle cocoon that slowly drew him into a deep, dreamless slumber.
Just before the last thread of consciousness disappeared into darkness, he vaguely heard Cheng Shubai’s footsteps receding.
Toward the study, perhaps.
Then the living room fell completely silent.
Only the slow, steady rhythm of the sleeping man’s breathing remained.
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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