Living With a Temperamental Adonis: 99 Proclamations of Love

When these questions circulated through Song Qingchun’s mind, for some reason, she felt like the blood in her body was flowing the other way. Her heart skipped three beats, and an inexplicable feeling consumed her.

It was not until she put his clothes back on, snuggled him under the mattress, and the wound was nowhere to be seen that her breath returned.

…

Similar to the time when Doctor Xia had arrived to check on Su Zhinian’s head wound, he examined Su Zhinian’s body, gave him a drip, and gave Song Qingchun some notes and medicine before leaving.

When Song Qingchun sent Doctor Xia away, she took the opportunity to ask where the wound on Su Zhinian’s abdomen had come from.

Doctor Xia was visibly startled when he heard her question. After a long pause, he smiled like he usually did at Song Qingchun and said, ”I’m not too sure about that myself; he was already like this when he came to me.”

Her instinct told Song Qingchun that Doctor Xia was lying, but she couldn’t figure out why; she knew it would not be courteous for her to press the good doctor, so she just nodded along and later bade Doctor Xia farewell.

Then, she returned to his bedroom and sat by his bedside, watching the drip fall. For some reason, her mind returned to the wound she had seen; she felt like… that wound hid a dark and important secret.

…

Three hours later, Song Qingchun changed the needle for Su Zhinian. She used a cotton ball to press on his arm to stop the blood before pasting a bandage over it. Feeling his forehead, she realized his fever still hadn’t retreated. Worried that he might need her help in the middle of the night, she decided to wait by his bedside.

As the night deepened, Song Qingchun got increasingly drowsy. She tried to force her heavy lids open and occasionally reached out to feel Su Zhinian’s temperature.

Song Qingchun didn’t know how many times she repeated this action before a hazy light started to filter through the window, and Su Zhinian’s fever finally dissipated. The tired Song Qingchun collapsed on his bedside and fell into a slumber.

…

When Su Zhinian opened his eyes, the sun had already risen. The summer daylight fell through the windows and lit up his vast bedroom.

Still recovering from his fever, he felt a sense of lethargy and weakness weighing him down. He stared at the ceiling for quite some time before memories from the previous night came into his mind.

He remembered trying to survive the discomfort raging through his senses as he waited for Song Qingchun to leave. In the end, he had lost consciousness before he could tell whether Song Qingchun had left or not. But now, he was in his own home?

Su Zhinian rolled his eyes around and started to examine his surroundings.

There was a mobile drip rack beside his bed, and two empty bags hung upon it. Then, he spotted the bandage on the back of his arm.

His brows were tied in a deep knot. He suddenly sat up, as if remembering something. As he did so, he saw Song Qingchun lying on the edge of his bed, sweetly dreaming.

The daylight fell on her upper body, coloring the dried mud on her face and hair a golden yellow.

She had not changed out of the dress she’d had on yesterday. The dirty water on it had dried, and there were dirty splotches all over it.

However, her hands and arms had been washed; they pillowed her head.

So… it was she who brought me home after I fainted last night?