Xi Tang took a taxi to Jianguomen.

She entered the elevator from the hotel’s first-floor lobby. The entire corridor was extremely quiet, without a single person in sight. Every resident here enjoyed absolute privacy. Xi Tang opened Zhao Ping Jin’s door and peered quietly into the living room from the entrance. It was past four in the afternoon; the curtains were characteristically drawn tight, his bedroom door was closed, and the entire apartment was silent.

Today was a workday, and generally, at this time, Zhao Ping Jin wouldn’t be home.

Xi Tang felt relieved, took off her shoes, and walked into the room where she had stayed. After searching the room and bathroom, she still couldn’t find the earrings. So she went to the living room, searched through the coffee table, and began looking under the sofa cushions.

She was lying on the sofa, reaching deep into the cushions to feel for her earrings when suddenly she felt a chill on her back and realized there was another presence in the room.

Xi Tang was startled.

Her whole body shuddered as she looked back to see Zhao Ping Jin leaning against his bedroom doorframe. He wore dark blue fine-checked pajama pants and a gray cashmere sweater, his hair disheveled.

As soon as Zhao Ping Jin saw her, his expression soured: “What, seeing me is like seeing a ghost?”

Xi Tang sat up, patting her chest to calm herself: “I thought you weren’t home.”

Zhao Ping Jin walked to the sofa and sat down, glancing at her: “What are you looking for?”

His voice was hoarse.

Xi Tang said: “A pair of earrings, is needed for continuity in filming. I couldn’t find them anywhere in the hotel at the set.”

He frowned slightly: “What happened to your eyes?”

Xi Tang was startled for a moment before realizing what he meant. She touched her swollen red eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed: “Oh, I was crying for a scene.”

Zhao Ping Jin nodded and said nothing more. He reached for his cigarettes, thought better of it, and instead picked up his cup. The half cup of water had gone completely cold. He frowned but made no move to refill it himself.

Xi Tang continued searching on the sofa, looked at him, and asked curiously: “Why are you sleeping at home in the middle of the day?”

Zhao Ping Jin answered irritably: “Why do you care?”

Xi Tang asked: “Weren’t you very busy? Is your bidding project over?”

Zhao Ping Jin immediately looked up, giving her a cold stare, his eyes filled with dark gloom, but he said nothing.

Xi Tang suddenly felt a bit afraid and explained quietly: “Qing Qing told me you were recently working on a…”

Zhao Ping Jin finally took out a cigarette, his face still icy, but said airily: “Lost it.”

Xi Tang was stunned for several seconds.

Zhao Ping Jin remained silent for a while, then slowly said: “I thought if I secured this contract, I could smoothly hand the company over to Li Ming, and I wouldn’t have to keep working two jobs. Didn’t expect…”

His voice remained calm, but Xi Tang knew he wasn’t unaffected by the loss.

Xi Tang had previously heard Gao Ji Yi and others joke about him. When Jingchuang Technology went public, the entire company’s market value was only a few hundred million, which was nothing compared to his workplace where a single military supply contract could easily exceed ten billion. Yet he cherished it like his own child. Xi Tang understood him—it was the dream he had built with his own hands. All the vigor and energy of a man in his twenties, he had dedicated to this company he founded, enduring who knows how much hardship and putting his heart and soul into it. Perhaps even Xi Tang couldn’t fully comprehend it. His love for it was natural.

His throat was becoming even hoarser.

Xi Tang got up and poured him a glass of water.

As she approached him, she felt an abnormal heat radiating from him. She instinctively reached out to touch his forehead, which was burning hot: “You have a fever, do you know that?”

Zhao Ping Jin sat motionless on the sofa: “I’m not stupid, how could I not know?”

Even through his clothes, Xi Tang could feel his entire body burning with fever. To be able to sit so steadily with such a high fever—it truly wasn’t something just anyone could manage with steel discipline.

No wonder he was sleeping at home during the day.

Xi Tang had him finish the water, looked at him, then turned to continue rummaging through the sofa cushions: “Dressed so lightly, not even wearing socks. Go lie down in bed.”

Zhao Ping Jin ignored her, glanced up at her, but said nothing.

Xi Tang said: “Hey, Zhao Ping Jin?”

Zhao Ping Jin said: “Don’t want to move.”

Xi Tang walked up to him and grabbed his arm: “Go lie down in bed.”

Zhao Ping Jin’s legs were weak, and when she pulled him up, he almost fell face-first to the floor. He steadied himself with one hand on the sofa and glared at her, shouting: “Are you trying to kill me?”

It seemed this time he had worked himself sick. His scolding intensity hadn’t diminished, but his voice sounded hoarse and weak, completely devoid of strength. Xi Tang didn’t argue with him: “Alright, alright, take it slow.”

Zhao Ping Jin stood up but didn’t move. Earlier, in his drowsy state, he had heard sounds in the living room and had forced himself to get up and come out. Once seated on the sofa, he was unwilling to move again. Now standing, his vision blurred.

Xi Tang had to support his arm.

Leaning on her arm, Zhao Ping Jin walked back into his room and lay down on the bed. The figures before him were blurry. Just this small movement had made him dizzy, and his forehead was covered in sweat.

Xi Tang wiped the sweat from his temples.

She went back to the bathroom for a clean towel, glancing at the sitting area outside his bedroom. His discarded shirt and trousers were thrown carelessly on the carpet. He had always been fastidious, typically putting away his clothes after changing. He must have been feeling extremely unwell when he returned to have left them on the floor like that.

Xi Tang tidied everything up, then walked into the room and asked him: “Have you eaten anything today?”

Zhao Ping Jin lay in bed, shaking his head, finally showing some discomfort on his face.

Xi Tang said: “I’ll make you some porridge. Take some fever-reducing medicine first. If necessary, we’ll go to the hospital later.”

In his groggy state, Zhao Ping Jin still remembered to reply: “I’m not going to the hospital.”

Xi Tang placed a cool compress on his forehead.

She prepared porridge and brought it to his bedside.

He ate a few mouthfuls, then frowned and refused to eat more.

Xi Tang didn’t force him, set down the bowl, and stood by his bed, examining his medicine bottles. On the bedside table, there were only stomach medicine and painkillers.

Xi Tang carefully looked at his medicine bottles: “Has your stomach been hurting recently?”

Zhao Ping Jin immediately denied it: “No.”

“Any spasms?” Xi Tang asked.

“No,” he continued to be stubborn.

That meant yes, and probably quite a few times, Xi Tang thought with concern.

She asked worriedly: “Have you been eating meals regularly?”

Zhao Ping Jin lay back down: “Too busy.”

Xi Tang tucked in his blanket to make him more comfortable. “How long has it been hurting?”

Zhao Ping Jin opened his eyes to look at her, though her face appeared blurry to him: “More than two weeks.”

Xi Tang’s voice could be heard saying: “You don’t eat when work gets busy. How is Shen Min serving as your secretary?”

He closed his eyes in discomfort: “Not his fault.”

Xi Tang responded lightly: “True, who dares to upset you?”

Zhao Ping Jin opened his eyes again: “Can’t you say something nice?”

Xi Tang spoke as if unconcerned: “You should go home. There are doctors and housekeepers there.”

Zhao Ping Jin was displeased when he heard this, propping himself up on the bed, his tone particularly harsh: “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

Xi Tang maintained her calm tone: “I’m not planning to.”

Zhao Ping Jin’s face darkened, and he suddenly said coldly: “Get out.”

Xi Tang was taken aback.

Zhao Ping Jin angrily said: “Your things aren’t in my home. Get out.”

Xi Tang raised her chin: “Fine, I’ll leave.”

Zhao Ping Jin snapped: “Hurry up.”

Xi Tang waved her hand and left, but stopped at the door. She turned back to smile at Zhao Ping Jin on the bed: “Don’t get so sick you can’t get up. Do you want me to call 120 for you?”

Zhao Ping Jin’s face turned paper-white with anger, his lips blue and trembling as he shouted: “Huang Xi Tang, get out!”

Xi Tang raised her hands and left his room.

She hadn’t even reached the living room when she heard sounds from the bedroom behind her. Zhao Ping Jin had staggered out of bed, knocked over a water glass, and was now vomiting in the bathroom.

He knelt on the bathroom tiles, gasping and continuously vomiting, one hand supporting himself on the floor, the other pressing against his stomach.

Although the heating was on, the bathroom floor was still very cold.

Xi Tang went in: “Can you try to hold back? Your stomach can’t handle this vomiting.”

Zhao Ping Jin barely managed to stop, closing his mouth and ignoring her. Xi Tang tried to help him up, but he pushed her away, supporting himself against the wall as he stood unsteadily.

He hadn’t eaten anything today, and his long-empty stomach reacted violently to the food stimulus, causing severe pain.

Xi Tang watched as he fell back into bed, carelessly pulling the blanket tight around himself. Under the covers, he curled up, his hand pressing hard against his stomach, sweating profusely with pain, his eyelashes wet, yet not making a sound.

Zhao Ping Jin felt waves of darkness sweeping before his eyes, consciousness slowly slipping away, only to be jolted back by sharp pains in his abdomen. He could only grit his teeth tightly, enduring one after another, an endless cycle of torment.

He hadn’t felt this awful in a very long time. He almost wished the pain would reach its peak so he could simply pass out.

Xi Tang sat on his bed and finally reached out to hold him in her arms.

Zhao Ping Jin angrily pushed her away: “Go away!”

Xi Tang held his shoulders, feeling the thin shoulder blades beneath his clothes. With concerned fingers, she pressed gently and held him in her arms: “Alright, alright, can you stop fighting me?”

Zhao Ping Jin buried his head in the bedding, his voice so weak it was barely audible: “I don’t want you to take care of me.”

Xi Tang tucked the blanket around him again: “I want to take care of you. Stop talking.”

Zhao Ping Jin, muffled under the blanket, replied miserably: “I’m half dead with sickness, and you’re still upsetting me.”

Xi Tang felt a surge of bitter ache in her heart.

She wanted to bend down and kiss him but held back at the last moment. It had been so long, so very long since they had been intimate like this. A wave of desolate sadness welled up in her heart.

Xi Tang lowered her voice, with unintentional gentleness: “I’m sorry, okay?”

Zhao Ping Jin faintly felt a light kiss fall on the top of his head, and then his body was embraced by Huang Xi Tang’s soft but firm arms. She shifted slightly on the bed to allow him to rest more comfortably in her embrace. Her body had a warm, sweet scent, the familiar fruity fragrance. Her soft palm caressed his face, then slipped under the blanket to rest on his upper abdomen, gently massaging his stomach as it cramped and stabbed with pain.

Lying in her arms, Zhao Ping Jin felt his entire body relax considerably. The torturous pain began to gradually subside. He finally relaxed and slowly drifted off to sleep.