BPTCMW : Chapter 48

The car sped along the road. By the time Han Yi arrived at the hotel, the crew’s accompanying doctor had just finished taking Xia Yang’s temperature.

The young man, still sound asleep, had wrapped himself up in the bed like a cocoon, with only his head exposed.

“39.1 degrees,” the doctor reported, setting down the ear thermometer and rummaging through a portable medical kit for fever patches, antipyretics, anti-inflammatory medication, and cold medicine.

Han Yi inspected each of the medications, then asked, “Is it just a common cold?”

“Yes, Mr. Han. The recent drop in temperature likely caused Xia to catch a cold, compounded by the fatigue and stress from the accelerated filming schedule. His body couldn’t handle the strain,” the doctor explained.

Tang Siming, standing nearby, nodded in agreement. “Director Guo can be intense when he’s working, almost inhuman. In that way, he’s a match for you, Brother Yi.”

Han Yi: “…”

Ignoring Tang Siming’s subtle jab, Han Yi saw the doctor off. He then picked up a box of cold medicine and began to prepare hot water. Looking around, however, he noticed there was no water dispenser, only an old-fashioned kettle on the kitchen table.

His expression darkened.

“Such a basic hotel without a water dispenser. Your crew should consider applying for Project Hope.”

Tang Siming burst out laughing; it was the first time he had seen the usually stoic Han Yi make a joke.

After laughing enough, Tang Siming patted Han Yi’s shoulder, trying to comfort him. “Alright, rich guy, I know you’re worried about Xia Yang. How about this, I’ll talk to the director and see if we can upgrade to a better room…”

“No need to discuss,” Han Yi interrupted firmly, “We’ll get a suite. I’ll cover the costs.”

Tang Siming: “…Okay.”

The world of the wealthy is straightforward, bold, and flashy.

With a stern face, Han Yi went to boil water, while Tang Siming picked up the fever patch and read the usage instructions aloud.

“Quick cooling: apply the fever patch to the patient’s forehead, armpits, and groin area.”

Han Yi paused mid-action and turned to ask, “Is it necessary to apply so many?”

“Well, it’s about being thorough. From my experience, applying it to the inner thighs works best,” Tang Siming handed the fever patches to Han Yi, grabbed his coat, and prepared to leave. “I’m heading out now. Take your time applying them to Xia. Call if you need anything.”

“Mm.”

Tang Siming tightened his coat and opened the door, just as Xia Yang’s assistant came rushing down the hallway with the lunch he’d packed earlier.

“Mr. Tang, has the doctor arrived? How’s Xia?” The assistant was out of breath, concern evident in his eyes.

“Nothing serious,” Tang Siming took the food from him and placed it on the door’s coat rack. “Let’s go; we don’t want to disturb the ‘doctor’ while he’s examining the patient.”

“Oh.” The assistant, innocent as ever, backed away.

Tang Siming pressed a button on the wall, and the display at the door beeped, showing “Do Not Disturb.”

With only the two of them left in the room, Han Yi brought a chair over to the bedside and carefully placed a fever patch on Xia Yang’s forehead.

The young man’s face was flushed red from the fever, resembling a ripe peach, hot to the touch. Han Yi held the remaining fever patches, leaned closer, and gently called out, “Xia Yang.”

There was no response.

He nudged the young man’s body and tugged at the blanket. After several attempts, Xia Yang finally opened his eyes slightly, his gaze bleary and unfocused.

“Awake?” Han Yi waved his hand in front of Xia Yang’s face.

Xia Yang followed the movement, his eyes gradually focusing. His eyes widened in surprise upon seeing Han Yi. “Han Yi? How are you here already? I haven’t even flipped the coin yet.”

Han Yi frowned at Xia Yang’s hoarse voice, too concerned to discuss the coin flip. He got straight to the point.

“You’re running a high fever. I may need to take off some of your clothes.”

“Huh?” Xia Yang lifted his sore eyelids, “Take off clothes? That’s a very direct way to cool down. You’re quite straightforward.”

Han Yi: “…”

His expression twitched, and he rubbed his temples, maintaining patience as he explained, “I meant applying fever patches to your armpits and…” He hesitated, remembering Tang Siming’s words about the groin area, and opted for a more subtle term, “applying them to your armpits and the upper inner thighs for quick physical cooling.”

Xia Yang’s fever-addled brain took a moment to process what Han Yi meant.

Alright, taking off clothes was for the fever patches; not as straightforward as he thought.

But what did he mean by the upper inner thighs?

“Dr. Han, I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Xia Yang said, raising an arm in a gesture of surrender, “Please don’t confuse a feverish patient with complicated terms. My brain already hurts from the fever. Just explain it simply.”

Han Yi: “…”

“If necessary, you can show me where exactly this ‘upper inner thigh’ is. Treat it as a practical lesson.”

Han Yi: “………”

“Never mind.”

If Xia Yang could joke while running a fever, it probably wasn’t too serious.

He had no intention of giving a demonstration; he didn’t want to catch a fever himself.

“Just put the fever patches under your arms. Raise your arms,” Han Yi said, looking down.

Still awaiting an explanation, Xia Yang: “…?”

Before he could question why this “doctor” refused to give a demonstration, Han Yi had already lifted the blanket and raised Xia Yang’s arm.

“Wait, hold on…” Xia Yang shrank back, his face flushing even more.

Though armpits weren’t a particularly private area, they were still sensitive and ticklish for him.

“I’d better do it myself,” he grabbed the fever patches from Han Yi’s hand and licked his dry lips, “At least let me maintain some dignity.”

“…………”

Han Yi opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but ultimately respected Xia Yang’s choice and turned around.

With his head spinning from the fever, Xia Yang took quite a while to place the fever patches under his arms.

As soon as they were on, a soothing coolness spread throughout his body, like a refreshing breeze on a hot summer day.

He burrowed back under the covers, blinking sleepily. “Feeling a bit better. I’ll sleep for a bit. Do as you like.”

“Wait.” Han Yi brought over the cold medicine he’d prepared while Xia Yang was applying the fever patches. “Take the medicine before you sleep.”

Huh?

Xia Yang blinked up at him, suddenly reminded of the last time someone had given him medicine—it was when he was five years old, and his beloved grandfather had nursed him through a cold.

“What are you thinking about?” Han Yi’s voice brought him back to the present.

“Thinking about my grandpa.”

Han Yi: “.”

“He used to take care of me when I was sick and personally fed me medicine.”

“I see,” Han Yi said calmly, stirring the medicine with a spoon, “I can also personally feed you, just like your grandfather.”

Xia Yang: “…”

Isn’t that a bit much?

I didn’t ask for this, did I?

And why does it feel a bit… offensive coming from him?

As his fevered mind raced with thoughts, the man in front of him brought a spoonful of brown, bitter medicine to his lips.

The bitter taste made his eyes water. “Too bitter. I can’t.”

He pulled away and tried to burrow back under the covers, but Han Yi was having none of it. The next moment, a large hand pulled him back out.

Xia Yang: “…………”

“How about this: one sip, I’ll transfer 50; two sips, 500; three sips, 5000. Deal?”

“Deal!” Xia Yang immediately sat up straight.

Han Yi: “Deal.”

Xia Yang’s eyes widened, mentally calculating. If he recovered slowly enough, he could make a small fortune.

He wondered if Han Yi had caught his fever and was now feverish himself, because this offer seemed too good to be true.

“You need to take these medications on time,” Han Yi pointed to the array of pills on the table, “Once you’re better, I’ll pay you whatever you earned.”

“Are you serious?” Xia Yang pinched himself in disbelief. “That’s a lot of money.”

Han Yi remained calm: “I keep my word.”

The bitter medicine went down, and although it tasted awful, the thought of earning money made it bearable.

Smiling, Xia Yang reached for a tissue from the bedside table but came up empty-handed. The tissue box was empty.

Han Yi glanced around. “No tissues?”

“None.”

Han Yi sighed and used his tie to wipe Xia Yang’s mouth.

Xia Yang: “…”

Wow, that’s wasteful.

But it feels great!

For a moment, he felt a surge of warmth, as if the man in front of him was genuinely caring and not just a contractual partner.

But then, a thought crossed his mind, snapping him back to reality.

“Mr. Han, don’t be too nice to me,” he sighed, retreating back under the covers, only his misty doe eyes visible.

“Why?” Han Yi asked, meeting his gaze.

“Because I might get addicted.” Xia Yang clutched the blanket, a faint smile on his lips, his voice raspy. “We’re going to get divorced eventually. When that happens, everything goes back to zero. I’ve been controlling myself well. Don’t let my efforts go to waste.”

“I’m a contract-abiding person, a rule-following partner. I won’t break the terms we agreed on…”

He rambled on, seemingly incoherent but also making some sense.

In his normal state, he wouldn’t have said this, but the fever had him spilling everything.

But saying it out loud felt liberating. As contractual partners, it was a shame they couldn’t be completely honest with each other. As for how Han Yi would take it, it was beyond his control.

As these thoughts swirled in his mind, Xia Yang drifted back to sleep. Han Yi sat by the bedside, staring at him, the soft glow from the window casting a golden hue over Xia Yang’s hair, making him look more gentle than ever.

After a long while, Han Yi snapped out of his daze. He reached out, gently touching Xia Yang’s cheek. The young man stirred in his sleep, his face brushing against Han Yi’s hand, the soft lips grazing his palm, sending a warm sensation straight to his heart.

He could no longer ignore the budding feeling that had taken root in his heart.

He heard the sleeping youth murmur, “Han Yi, am I doing a good job controlling myself…”

The words, like a soft feather, tickled his heart. Han Yi lowered his gaze, his warm fingers intertwining with Xia Yang’s. His eyes shone with a tender, star-like light.

“You’re doing a great job, but I’ve already lost control.”

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