Chapter 23

He was actually trying to act cute.

He used to hate effeminate men the most and couldn't stand people pretending to be cute. At his age, he naturally felt too embarrassed to act that way. But today, here he was—deliberately acting cute, hoping that Yan Bozong would find him a little adorable.

"Ah! Second Brother!"

Yan Yuan suddenly shouted, startling everyone.

Yan Songwei looked up. "Seriously, little one, can you not be so jumpy?"

"Second Brother, you guys were way too intense," Yan Yuan said. "What's that on your neck and chest?"

Yan Songwei's face instantly changed. He quickly reached up to pull at his collar, but he had forgotten all about it after showering. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone.

Qi Liangqin's face flushed red in an instant. No one here was innocent—they all knew exactly what those marks on Yan Songwei's neck were. And now, they'd probably blame it on him, thinking he was some wild little cat in bed.

Heaven knew, the wild one was Tan Qingqing. He had always carried himself with dignity and restraint. He would never do something as brazen as leaving marks all over someone.

Just when the awkwardness reached its peak, Yan Bozong's voice cut in, sounding completely sincere.

"He has a bit of an allergic reaction."

Yan Yuan burst into laughter and turned to him. "Big Brother, how do you know?"

"I saw it while we were playing ball and asked him about it," Yan Bozong said while chewing on a bun. "You should stop by a hospital on your way to the office later, just to check what kind of allergy it is. Allergies can be serious if ignored—you should take it seriously."

Yan Songwei nodded sheepishly.

Yan Yuan playfully smacked Yan Bozong's shoulder. "Big Brother, are you really playing dumb, or are you actually clueless?"

Yan Bozong looked at her in confusion.

Even Madam Yan, who had been silent, let out a chuckle. "He's genuinely clueless."

"What? Am I wrong?" Yan Bozong turned to Yan Songwei for confirmation.

Yan Songwei, still looking down, couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, yeah, you're right."

Realizing something was off, Yan Bozong glanced around, his gaze finally landing on Qi Liangqin—who was busy staring at his porridge. The moment Qi Liangqin noticed Yan Bozong looking at him, he quickly lowered his head even further.

Oh my god, how could someone be this innocent? Was this really a man who had been married for years?

Yan Yuan, finally catching her breath from laughing too much, said, "Well, it's not Big Brother's fault. I doubt he's ever had such an intense experience in his entire life."

"Alright, that's enough," Madam Yan said, straightening up. "You're all adults now. Is the dining table really the place for this kind of discussion? No talking while eating. Xiao Qin, come upstairs after breakfast—I need to talk to you."

"Oh."

Qi Liangqin took the last sip of his millet porridge and looked up, only to meet Yan Bozong's suspicious gaze. Just as he was about to look away, Yan Bozong raised a thumb and motioned for him to wipe his mouth.

He quickly reached up and wiped his mouth, only to find a tiny grain of millet stuck there. Gratefully, he smiled at Yan Bozong, but by then, Yan Bozong was already looking elsewhere.

Still, Qi Liangqin felt happy.

After that game of basketball, he was certain that he had significantly improved Yan Bozong's impression of him. Yan Bozong was much warmer toward him now.

After finishing breakfast, Qi Liangqin followed Madam Yan upstairs. Naturally, she wanted to talk to him about his "bedroom matters" with Yan Songwei, repeatedly reminding him that young people should exercise restraint. And also, with so many people in the house, they needed to be mindful of their actions.

As for what actions—well, that went without saying.

"Songwei is a high-ranking executive, after all. If you want to mark him, fine—but avoid places like his neck, where everyone can see."

As for what kind of marks—again, that went without saying.

Qi Liangqin nodded repeatedly, agreeing to everything, and finally escaped from Madam Yan's room. He didn't know if it was because he hadn't exercised in a long time, but he felt a bit sore all over. Feeling exhausted, he decided to lie down for a bit.

When he woke up, he felt pain all over his body, and his head ached.

Qi Liangqin was sick.

Aunt Chun and Yan Yuan both came to check on him, and even Madam Yan paid him a visit. She told him to take his medicine, but even while leaving, she couldn't resist making a sharp remark.

"You're as fragile as a blade of grass, falling at the slightest breeze. What kind of man are you?"

Flushed from the fever, Qi Liangqin could only give an awkward smile.

Madam Yan said, "Rest for a while and see if it gets better. If not, go to the hospital."

Aunt Chun handed him a thermometer. "Hold this in your mouth. We'll check your temperature in a bit."

Today, Madam Yan had invited some friends over for a mahjong game. Even through the door, he could hear their voices. The laughter of these wealthy ladies was particularly exaggerated.

Holding the thermometer in his mouth, Qi Liangqin lay in bed, squinting at the window.

Maybe it was because he had lived alone before, but whenever he caught a cold or had a fever, he always felt especially miserable. On normal days, he didn't think much of it, but the moment he got sick, loneliness would come crashing down, swallowing him whole.

He used to watch variety shows, lying in bed and laughing so hard that he'd tear up, completely forgetting about the loneliness.

He had always been good at living day by day, keeping himself entertained. He never thought about the future or which path he would take.

Now, though, his arms felt empty. Being sick only made the emptiness worse. He hugged his blanket, but it wasn't enough—so he clamped a pillow between his arms.

It wasn't a person, but it still brought him a bit of comfort.

To be honest, he had always wanted to buy a human-shaped pillow or maybe even a stuffed bear. He had a shameful, girlish side to him.

A knock came from outside.

Weakly, Qi Liangqin called out, "Come in."

The door pushed open.

"Mom said you're sick?"

The moment he heard that voice, Qi Liangqin sat up abruptly, his sleepy eyes looking toward Yan Bozong, the thermometer still in his mouth.

Laughter rang out again from the women outside. Yan Bozong frowned slightly, closing the door behind him before walking over to the bed.

"You really are sick—your face is burning up. Did you take medicine?" he asked.

Qi Liangqin nodded. Feeling that speaking was inconvenient, he pulled the thermometer from his mouth. Before he could check it himself, Yan Bozong reached out and took it.

"Forty degrees? You need to go to the hospital."

Qi Liangqin was stunned. He hadn't expected it to be that high. Wouldn't forty degrees fry his brain?

"Put on your clothes. I'll take you to the hospital."

"No need, I'll just rest—"

"You're at forty degrees, and you still think you don't need to go?"

Maybe it was the fever messing with his head, but Yan Bozong's voice didn't sound threatening at all. Instead, there was a hint of concern in it.

"Don't be stubborn. The sooner you get treated, the sooner you'll recover."

Qi Liangqin had no choice but to nod.

"I'll wait for you outside," Yan Bozong said before leaving the room.

When Qi Liangqin got out of bed and started dressing, he realized his legs felt weak, like he was walking on clouds. He really was burning up. The dizziness was intense.

He rarely got sick. Whenever he had a cold or a fever, he would tough it out or take some medicine, and that was enough. The last time he went to the hospital was back in high school.

Then, a thought hit him.

If he went to the hospital with a fever, he'd probably need an injection.

Would they make him take off his pants and bend over for a shot in the butt, just like in high school?

The idea horrified him.

There was no way—absolutely no way—he could let that happen in front of Yan Bozong. That would be way too embarrassing! He prided himself on his dignity and restraint. There was no way he'd do something so humiliating!

His mind spun, searching for an excuse.

But before he could come up with one, Yan Bozong walked back in.

"Can't even walk?"

Something about those words sent a shiver through Qi Liangqin's heart. Dizzy and flushed, he looked up at Yan Bozong with dazed eyes.

He didn't know if it was from embarrassment or the fever, but his face was burning. Staring at Yan Bozong, he mumbled in a soft, sticky voice, "Mm… I can't walk."

There was a hint of a whine in his tone.

Heaven knew—this was the first time in his life he had ever spoken like that.

But it was Yan Bozong.

He had wanted to act spoiled in front of Yan Bozong for a long, long time. Ever since another lifetime ago, he had longed for just one moment like this.