Fourteen

  Because he couldn't move, she had to fetch a towel blanket from her own room and with great difficulty place it under him. Then she went to the kitchen to boil water, opened the refrigerator, and found that there was still only bread and milk inside. She couldn't help but feel a wave of shame - after living here for so long, this kitchen had only been used to heat up milk and boil water.

  Go to the bathroom to get his towel, soak it in cold water, wring it out and put it on his forehead. The book says that's how you physically bring down a fever. He was obviously running a temperature and she also understood why she felt a little hot when he hugged her in the divine melody. Thinking about the two hugs tonight, her face couldn't help but flush again.

  Then she cooled down the water, and by the time she was done, a white mist had risen outside the window. She couldn't bear it anymore and fell asleep on the sofa in the living room, having a warm and colorful dream. She was woken up by some noise and saw Ye Cang lying on the ground, groaning. She quickly got up and felt dizzy in front of her eyes due to lack of sleep. Looking at the time on her phone, it was only six o'clock, and she had only slept for a short while.

  She tried again with her hands, and the leaves were no longer so hot. However, his complexion was poor, his eyebrows were twisted together, and he hummed uncomfortably in his mouth. Even his black beard had grown out. She carefully asked him: "How are you? Can you get up and lie on your bed?"

  He struggled to open his eyes, and it seemed like half a day before he figured out where he was and who the person in front of him was. With her help, he finally got up and moved to his own room. She stepped into his room for the first time, which was much smaller than hers and didn't have a balcony. Except for a bed, a desk, and a closet, there was no other furniture. The bed and floor were cluttered with many books. She made space for him to lie down and carefully let him lie down. As she stood up and was about to leave, his hand grabbed her: "Ruxue, don't go."

  She said softly, "I'll go get you a towel." He only let go of her hand then. She also brought him a cup of cool boiled water and some cold medicine, watching as he took the medicine and drank the water before placing the cool towel on his forehead.

  After drinking water, he felt better and smiled to ask her: "Did I do anything bad to you last night?" Originally she wanted to say yes, but suddenly understood what he meant and blushed, scolding him: "You dare not." He shook his head with a disappointed face: "Ah, what a pity."

  She turned to leave in anger, but he weakly said: "Ruxue, don't go, okay?" She softened and came back to sit on the bed. He held her hand, and she didn't pull away. He said: "Ruxue, your heart is too kind, too easy to talk to. You can't be so good to others outside, you can only be this good to me."

  She pulled out her hand and smiled: "Save your energy, sleep a bit more, I'm going to be nice to others." He muttered: "What?" Pretending to get up, she quickly stopped him and told him: "I'm just going out to buy some food, I'll be back soon." He lay down again, still joking in his mouth: "Good wife."

  She turned back at the door and glared at him fiercely: "If you don't behave, I'll move out." He hastily raised his hands in surrender.

  She remembered that when she was ill in the past, her mother would always cook chicken soup for her to drink. So after buying breakfast, she went to the market next door to buy a chicken. She didn't have much confidence that there would be any for sale so early. Only after entering the market did she find out that it was already bustling with people. At the very back of the market, she found a stall selling chickens. Standing in front of the chicken coop, she hesitated, unsure what kind to buy. The vendor looked at her and knew she was a novice, so he asked: "Little girl, are you going to stew or braise the chicken when you get home?"

  She honestly replied, "Make soup." The man then opened the cage and picked out a chicken, holding it in front of her: "This old hen is best for making soup." She nodded trustingly. He asked if she wanted to take care of it, and she nodded again. Then he quickly slaughtered the chicken, and the scene was naturally bloody and chaotic. In her heart, she secretly apologized to the chicken, telling it not to blame her, as she was also doing it to cure illness and save people.

  He had already fallen asleep with a peaceful expression, and there was still a faint smell of alcohol in the air. She opened the living room window, and the sunlight was already shining brightly. Today's summer sun was unusually generous and clear.

  Then she went to her room and called her mom to ask how to cook chicken soup. Her mom was surprised that she, who never goes into the kitchen, would ask this. She hesitated and said she had a cold and wanted to eat her mom's chicken soup. Her mom felt a pang in her heart and quickly asked if it was serious or not. She said it was nothing serious, just a low fever, and that resting for a day should be fine.

  Her mother then told her the recipe for chicken soup and the ingredients needed, which she carefully wrote down. Before hanging up the phone, her mother said, "Come back next weekend, it's been almost a month since you've come home, Mom will make your favorite dish to eat." She responded with a sound, and tears almost fell out.

  She ran out again because her mother said that even scallions, ginger, fragrant oil, and salt were not available at home. After getting everything ready, she started with the method her mother told her: first, use boiling water to blanch the chicken, then fill its belly with ginger and mushrooms. Her mother said that ginger is warm in nature, so she cut a large piece of ginger into slices and stuffed them inside. She spent half a day searching for a pot and finally found a suitable-sized stewpot in the cabinet, which looked brand new and had never been used before. She couldn't help but wonder why everything in this house was new if it really was an old person's home. Without thinking too much, she washed the pot clean, put the whole chicken inside, added water that hadn't been used to cook the chicken, and turned on high heat to stew it.

  She finished the things in the kitchen and went to see him again, still sleeping soundly. His sleeping face was very cute and seemed to have a faint smile at the corner of his mouth. She couldn't help but take another two glances and whispered to him: "What good dream are you having?" Suddenly hearing the splashing sound from the kitchen, she quickly ran over to find that the water had boiled and turned down the heat. Her mother said that the old hen stew needed to be cooked for three hours. She remembered that his room was full of books and went in to look for one to read. During her school days, every weekend, Juanzi would go to self-study with her boyfriend while she spent a whole day getting lost in the library.

  Most of his books are about economics, and some are even about music. There's also a German original book with a transparent label that says it's a philosophy book. It suddenly occurred to her that Liu Qing said he was her university classmate, so he should be around 25 or 26 years old, but why is he so small? And shouldn't he have graduated in economics management? Why did he go to sing in a bar after graduation instead of finding a good job? She suddenly realized that she knew very little about him, yet somehow felt so familiar with him, as if they had known each other for years. In just one short month, she had held hands and even been hugged by him, but didn't feel like it was wrong - this didn't match her upbringing or personality, it was too strange. She couldn't figure out why.

  She finally found a book "From the Bottom of the Sea" by an author who was also a German writer, a name she had never heard before: Buchheim. Since there were no other books to look at, she took this one back to her room to flip through it. Before leaving, she didn't forget to exchange his towel again.

  The story of the World War II naval battle didn't have much appeal to her, plus she hadn't slept enough and didn't know when she fell asleep. Nor did she know how she woke up, the book was still placed properly on the pillow, the room was very bright, and for a moment, she couldn't tell whether it was day or night, wondering if it was already the next day, only then did she feel her whole body aching, smelling a fragrance wafting over, suddenly remembering, "Ah!" and rushed to the kitchen barefoot.

  Someone who was one step ahead of her was him.