“Alright. See you soon.”
The voice reached me before I managed to open my eyes.
Warm. Low. Familiar.
For a few seconds, I stayed where I was, caught somewhere between sleep and consciousness. My body felt impossibly heavy, as though someone had replaced my bones with stone while I slept.
When I finally opened my eyes, Cheng was standing near the window with his back to me, slipping his phone into his pocket.
I tried to push myself higher on the pillow.
Pain pulsed through my head, followed by dizziness that dropped me back immediately.
Cheng turned. “You’re awake.”
Relief softened his face, but disappeared beneath a frown as soon as he came closer. His palm hovered over my forehead.
“Can I?”
I nodded. The moment his skin touched mine, his eyebrows drew together.
“You’re still burning.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re terrible at lying.” He reached towards the bedside table and picked up a thermometer. “I called my family doctor.”
My eyes widened. “You what?”
“You’ve been asleep for five hours.”
I looked towards the window. The light outside had changed completely.
“You passed out twice, you can barely stand, and now you’re burning up. So yes, I called a doctor.”
“I don’t need—”
“Open.” He held the thermometer towards me.
I stared at it, then at him. “Seriously?”
“Very.”
The metallic tip tapped lightly against my lower lip.
I reluctantly opened my mouth.
Cheng slid it beneath my tongue, and the satisfied curve at the corner of his mouth immediately irritated me.
“What?” I tried to say around it.
“Nothing.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“You get embarrassed very easily.”
Heat rushed into my face despite the fact that I was apparently already boiling alive.
Then his gaze dropped. Straight to my mouth. Only for a second.
But I saw it.
Something flickered in his eyes that had nothing to do with concern.
My heartbeat stumbled.
The doorbell rang and Cheng looked towards the bedroom door. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”
As if I had anywhere to go.
I sank deeper into the pillow as he disappeared. Then voices reached me from the entrance.
“When you're in front of him, you speak English. Am I clear?”
My eyes opened again.
Cheng.
But not the Cheng I was used to. A quieter male voice answered. “He slept for five hours. I already told you what happened,” Cheng continued. “Don't waste my time. Just check on him.”
His voice was cold.
Commanding.
I’d heard him irritated before. This was different.
For the first time since meeting him, I wondered whether the Cheng I knew was only one version of him.
Footsteps approached.
Cheng entered with a shorter Asian man carrying a dark medical case. Thin gold-framed glasses rested neatly on his nose, and the moment he saw me, his expression became entirely clinical.
Cheng removed the thermometer.
The doctor checked the thermometer again, his expression immediately turning serious. “Forty point five.”
“What?” I tried to sit up, but the room swayed around me.
“You were walking around like this?” the man asked, staring at me in disbelief.
“I don’t think it was that high before.”
“You think?” he repeated, clearly unimpressed. He opened his case beside the bed, then pulled the blanket away.
Cold air hit me.
His hand moved towards my shirt. “Wait.”
He continued automatically. I caught his wrist. “Don’t.”
The room froze.
I scrambled backwards until my shoulders hit the headboard.
Pain tore through my side.
“Agh—” My breathing changed instantly.
Too fast. Too shallow.
Calm down.
He was a doctor. This wasn’t the same. He wasn’t going to hurt me but my body didn’t care.
“Xiao Luo.” Cheng’s voice cut through the panic. He sat on the edge of the bed, where I could see him clearly.
“I already explained the situation.” Xiao Luo sighed. “Young Master, please understand that I cannot examine him without touching him.”
Young Master?
I looked at Cheng but he ignored my confused expression.
“Tell him what you're going to do first.”
Xiao Luo looked at me.
“I need to examine your abdomen and the wound. I won't do anything without telling you first.”
My grip slowly loosened. “Okay.”
“May I lift your shirt?”
I hated how difficult the answer felt.
“Yes.”
Cheng remained beside me, close enough to see but not touching. Xiao Luo lifted my shirt and carefully peeled back part of the dressing covering my wound.
His expression changed. “Who treated this?”
“I cleaned it,” Cheng answered.
Xiao Luo glanced at him over his glasses. “You?”
“There was blood.”
“And you decided that qualified you as a doctor?”
“I wasn't going to leave him bleeding.”
Something almost amused crossed Xiao Luo’s face before he examined the wound again.
His fingers pressed into the skin beside it.
Pain exploded through me. I clenched the bedsheet.
“Does that hurt?”
“No.”
He pressed again.
“Fuck—”
Xiao Luo raised an eyebrow.
Cheng frowned. “He said it hurts.”
“He said no.”
“He was obviously lying.”
“I need him to tell me.”
“Cheng.”
He looked at me. “Please.” His jaw tightened, but he leaned back.
Xiao Luo continued more carefully.
I focused on the ceiling. There was a tiny crack near one corner.
I followed it with my eyes while his hands moved over my abdomen.
One line becoming two. Two becoming three.
Breathe.
Eventually, he lowered my shirt slightly. “The wound is infected.”
My attention snapped back. “Infected?”
“Quite badly. And you're dehydrated.” His gaze stayed on me. “Are you eating properly?”
Silence.
“Chin Mae.”
I stared at the blanket. “More or less.”
Cheng made a disbelieving sound.
“What does ‘more or less’ mean?” Xiao Luo asked.
“It means I eat.”
“How often?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “Not much.”
“Why?”
“Because every time I try to eat, I throw up,” I admitted quietly. “Water is pretty much the only thing I can keep down. Even the smell of coffee made me sick yesterday.”
The room became painfully quiet.
Cheng turned towards me. “Since when?”
“A while.”
“A while?”
“I don't know.”
“And you didn't think that was worth mentioning?”
“You never asked.”
“That is the stupidest excuse I've ever heard.”
“Could both of you stop?” Xiao Luo interrupted. He reached into his case.
“I need blood samples and fluids. I didn't bring enough equipment because”—he looked pointedly at Cheng—“someone described this as a fainting episode.”
“You knew about the fever.”
“I didn't know it was forty point five.” Xiao Luo looked back at me. “I'll have to return with an IV.”
My stomach tightened.
Needles.
Wonderful.
“He needs antibiotics, and the wound has to be cleaned and dressed properly. I can show you how—”
“No.”
Xiao Luo stopped. Cheng’s expression had changed again.
Cold.
“You'll come and do it.”
“Young Master—”
“We pay you enough.”
We.
Not I.
Xiao Luo lowered his gaze. “Of course.”
I watched them carefully.
There was something here I didn't understand. The way Xiao Luo spoke to him.
The way Cheng expected obedience. The fact that he received it.
Xiao Luo moved closer again. “Sit up, please.”
I obeyed slowly. He took my wrist and checked my pulse.
Seconds passed. His expression changed. He tried again.
“What?”
“Your pulse is too slow.”
Cheng straightened. “How slow?”
Xiao Luo answered him quietly. Then looked at me.
“We need to take him to hospital.”
My stomach dropped. “No.” The word escaped before I could think.
Hospitals meant questions. People touching me. Someone asking about the wound.
About the bite.
About how I'd gotten it.
No.
Xiao Luo continued, “I don't have the equipment here to determine what is causing—”
“He's not going anywhere.”
I looked at Cheng.
“This isn't something you should decide for him,” Xiao Luo said.
“I didn't.” Cheng’s eyes moved to mine. “He said no.”
Something inside me loosened. Xiao Luo removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “This could be serious.”
“I know.”
“Then you understand why—”
“Bring whatever you need here.”
For several seconds, neither man moved. Eventually Xiao Luo nodded. “I'll return as quickly as possible.” He began packing his case.
Cheng stood. “And Xiao Luo?” The doctor paused. “Don't tell anyone you've seen him.”
My eyes moved between them.
“Or anything that happened here,” Cheng added.
Xiao Luo’s expression became unreadable. “Understood.” He bowed slightly, then left.
What the hell was that?
Cheng waited until the apartment door closed before returning.
My shirt was still bunched beneath my ribs.
He caught the edge of it and paused.
I nodded.
He gently pulled it down. “Don't worry. You're in good hands.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep looking like you don't believe me.” He moved towards the bedside table.
“I'll get you something for the fever and make tea. Xiao Luo will bring the antibiotics and fluids.” Then he picked up his phone. “And I need to email our tutors. We're not going tomorrow.”
“We?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“Cheng, I'll eat something and sleep. I'll be fine.”
“You have a forty-point-five-degree fever.”
“I can't miss university.”
“You've barely started.”
“And I need to work.”
He paused. “Work?”
“I need a job.”
“We dropped off the CVs.”
“I know, but I can't spend days lying here.” My voice came out rougher than I intended.
“My hostel payment is due in two days.”
His expression changed. “You're worrying about rent right now?”
“I have to.”
“No. Right now you have to get better.”
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain it.”
“I don't want to.”
Frustration flashed across his face.
He stepped towards the bed and planted both hands on the mattress, one on either side of my legs.
He didn't touch me. He simply leaned closer until we were eye level.
“Chin Mae. Stop acting like resting for one day is going to destroy your entire life.”
“You don't know that.”
“No. But I know collapsing again won't improve it.”
I looked away. “I'm fine.”
“You're shaking.”
“I’m cold.”
“You're sweating.”
“Then I'm hot.”
His lips twitched. “You're impossible.”
“You're annoying.”
“And yet I'm still here.”
The words silenced me.
His expression softened. “I'm not asking you to solve your life tonight.” His voice was quieter now. “Just let yourself be sick.”
Something about that sentence hurt.
Let yourself.
As though weakness was something I needed permission for.
“I don't like depending on people.” The admission came out quieter than I intended. I kept my eyes on the blanket, rubbing the edge of it between my fingers instead of looking at Cheng.
Saying it aloud made it sound almost childish, but it wasn't something I knew how to explain in a few words. Depending on someone meant giving them the chance to become necessary. And once someone became necessary, losing them could destroy you.
Cheng didn't answer immediately.
I could still feel him standing beside the bed, close enough that his presence seemed to fill the silence between us. When I finally glanced up, I expected amusement, maybe another one of his clever remarks.
Instead, his expression had softened.
“I noticed.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.” There was no mockery in his voice this time. He said it simply, as though he wasn't trying to convince me of anything.
That almost made it worse.
“You don't understand.”
Cheng's gaze stayed on mine for a moment before drifting towards the window. He exhaled slowly, his shoulders losing some of the tension they'd carried since Xiao Luo arrived.
“Probably not.”
That made me look at him.
I had expected him to argue. Cheng always argued. He pushed, teased, followed me when I told him not to, and somehow found a way around almost every wall I put between us.
But this time he didn't.
He dragged the chair beside the bed a little closer and sat down, resting his forearms loosely over his knees. For once, he wasn't towering over me or trying to make me laugh. He simply stayed there.
“But you don't have to explain everything today.”
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then Cheng straightened. “I'll make some tea.”
“Cheng.”
He stopped.
“Thank you.”
His back remained towards me for a second, then he glanced over his shoulder.
That ridiculous smile returned. “You're welcome.”
And just like that, the cold version of him disappeared.
You're going to make me go insane, Cheng.
I slid beneath the blankets and turned onto my side.
Everything hurt.
My head. My wound. My muscles.
Even my heartbeat seemed painful, each slow pulse resonating through the pillow.
But my thoughts were worse.
Two days.
My hostel payment was due in two days.
I needed money.
I needed one of those places to call.
I needed university.
And somewhere between all of that, I apparently needed to understand what the hell was happening with Cheng.
A week ago, he hadn't existed in my life.
Now I knew the warmth of his apartment. The smell of his clothes. The expression he made when he was worried.
And apparently there was another Cheng too.
The one people called Young Master.
The one who ordered a private doctor around.
The one who could turn his voice cold enough to make a grown man bow his head.
I should've found that alarming.
I did. Just not enough.
That was the problem.
I'd promised myself I wouldn't do this again. No attachments.
No depending on someone because they made the darkness easier to survive.
I had come here to disappear.
So why had I allowed him this close?
Maybe because every time I tried to push him away, Cheng behaved as though my walls were inconveniences rather than warnings.
Maybe that's what I like.
I buried my face deeper into the pillow.
His persistence should've irritated me.
Sometimes it did.
But Cheng kept looking past whatever version of myself I tried to show him.
Quiet. Fine.
Independent. Untouchable.
And instead of judging what he found underneath, he stayed.
That frightened me more than if he'd walked away.
I thought of the way he'd spoken to Xiao Luo.
Young Master.
There were things about Cheng I clearly didn't know.
Maybe things I shouldn't want to know.
Yet curiosity had already taken root.
Which one is the real Cheng?
The ridiculous man who burned eggs and followed me through the rain?
Or the one who gave orders and expected people to obey?
Maybe both.
That possibility was considerably more dangerous.
A faint sound came from the kitchen.
Cupboard doors. A spoon against ceramic. Cheng making tea.
Ordinary sounds that for some reason, calmed me.
I pressed my cheek deeper into the pillow and listened to my heartbeat.
Slow. Heavy.
Xiao Luo had said it was too slow.
Then there was the infection.
The vomiting.
The blood.
The fact that ordinary food wouldn't stay in my stomach.
The fact that Cheng's neck—
Stop.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
No.
One problem at a time. I had come too far to give up now.
Too far from Seoul. Too far from her. From him.
From everything I'd run from.
Whatever was happening to my body, I'd fix it.
I'd find a job. Pay the hostel. Return to university. Get my life under control.
And Cheng... I had no idea what I was going to do about Cheng.
Maybe once the fever disappeared, I'd finally remember how to keep my distance.
The thought felt strangely hollow.
Another quiet clink came from the kitchen.
Still here.
Still taking care of me.
I pulled the blanket closer.
Just until I'm better.
That didn't have to mean anything.
I could need someone for one night without letting it become something bigger.
At least, that was what I told myself.
Because the alternative was much harder to admit.
When Cheng looked after me... I didn't want to push him away.
And I had no idea what that would cost me.
I've come too far to give it all up now.
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