Paris, the night had deepened, and there was no one else in the corridor.
After a light, rhythmic keyboard sound, the door opened in response.
Even though no one was around, the tension of sneaking into someone else’s room still made Song Chan feel like she was doing something bad.
The lights in Su Yicen’s room were dim, and her blurry vision made it impossible to see clearly.
Unsure what he was up to, Song Chan closed the door before calling out.
“Su Yicen!?”
Her voice rang out along with the ‘click-‘ of the door closing.
The feeling of being teased made her tone less than pleasant.
“Su Yicen? Are you in there?”
Song Chan’s question sank like a stone in the ocean. She waited a long time but got no response.
With no answer, she groped around for the light switch, not forgetting to threaten him as she did.
“Su Yicen, if you’re messing with me, you’re dead meat.”
The moment her fingertip touched the switch and she pressed it, Song Chan defensively closed her eyes.
But no frightening scene appeared before her as she had imagined.
The room was unusually quiet. Through the half-open window, she could see the bustling Paris nightscape outside, with cool evening breezes blowing in and gently swaying the gauze curtains on the bed frame.
Su Yicen lay on the bed. His face bore an extremely unhealthy flush, sweat beaded on his forehead and wet the hair in front, his lips were deathly pale, and his body was curled up on the bed. He clearly looked to be in great discomfort.
Seeing him like this, Song Chan’s heart clenched hard.
She hurried over and asked, “What’s wrong with you?”
Su Yicen pressed a hand to his abdomen. The intense pain forced his eyes tightly shut, and the corners of his eyes twitched uncontrollably.
He effortfully lifted his head and looked at her, answering irrelevantly.
“Why so fierce?”
Song Chan knew he was complaining about her questioning tone when she first came in.
He felt a bit embarrassed to say it, but he still told the truth.
“I thought…”
“You were tricking me…”
“Tricking you into coming over?” Su Yicen pressed her.
Song Chan didn’t reply. She bent down to check on his condition.
“Then you… knowing full well it might be a trick, still came anyway?”
Su Yicen propped himself up with some effort and leaned in close to her. The hot breath he exhaled washed over her, making her body heat up along with his.
His pitch-black eyes were impossible to avoid. When Song Chan met his gaze, she saw that his fever-bright red eye sockets framed a pair of dull, weary black pupils.
Su Yicen stared intently at her, as if touching the soft spot in his heart.
His low, hoarse voice trembled faintly. “Chanchan, you have to admit…”
“In your heart, I’ve already carved out a place.”
The moment the words landed, Song Chan’s heart skipped a beat.
Once her thoughts were seen through, her mind calmed instead.
She didn’t deny it and simply helped him lie back down.
“You’re sick. Don’t move around.”
Song Chan reached out to touch Su Yicen’s forehead. The scorching heat exceeded her expectations. She tested her own forehead by comparison, and her worry deepened.
“What happened? How is it this hot?”
Su Yicen shook his head. The illness had sapped his strength for talking, but he still pretended to be casual.
“I have gastritis. Old problem, nothing serious.”
“It’ll pass once the pain eases…”
Mid-sentence, another cramp in his stomach made him bite down hard on his lower lip.
Even though Su Yicen tried his best to endure, Song Chan wasn’t blind. She could tell this time he was really seriously ill.
“Go to the hospital. You’re burning up…”
As she spoke, Song Chan called Feng Zheng.
Seeing her action, Su Yicen knew what she was doing and reminded her.
“Feng Zheng had a family emergency. I sent him back home ahead of time. He should be on a plane right now.”
The auto-disconnect tone sounded right by Song Chan’s ear.
Afraid she’d worry, he forced a smile at the corner of his mouth and spoke casually.
“It’s really fine. Come keep me company. It’ll pass once the pain eases…”
Su Yicen took hold of Song Chan’s hand. He had no strength, so he could only shake it lightly.
It was the first time she had seen him so weak, like a mighty lion that had dropped its disguise and was alone in a corner, licking its wounds.
Song Chan grabbed the coat from the rack and gripped his hand in her palm.
Her tone brooked no argument. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”
Su Yicen’s heart warmed, and he asked her, “Chanchan, aren’t you afraid of getting caught?”
“If we go out together and someone snaps a photo…”
Before he finished, Song Chan cut him off.
“So what if they snap a photo?” She countered, “You’re sick. Doesn’t it hurt?”
“It hurts.” Su Yicen told the truth.
But actually, her words were enough for him. He didn’t want to make things hard for her.
He looked into her eyes and added, “But it’s not hurting as much now.”
No matter how nonchalant his tone sounded, his pale face and the sweat on his forehead easily gave away his facade.
Song Chan sighed helplessly. “How are you still so cheeky when you’re sick?”
The man who was called out ignored the second half of her words.
Lost in self-indulgent emotion, he said, “Chanchan, you’re worried about me?”
Song Chan was speechless. She made a show of tossing his coat onto him, deliberately cooling her voice a few degrees.
“Looks like nothing serious. I’m heading out.”
Su Yicen’s fever-hot hand gripped her wrist tightly.
“No more joking around. It really hurts…”
Even in peak vacation season, Paris nights were still chilly. When the arranged car pulled up to the hotel entrance, Song Chan helped Su Yicen out.
The driver was French but had studied in China. Seeing them heading for a midnight visit to the doctor, he kindly took them to a nearby hospital catering to Chinese patients.
Once the car stopped, the driver said in his somewhat broken accent, “Lots of Chinese doctors here. Most speak Chinese, so it’ll be easier for you to communicate.”
“Call me when treatment’s done. I’ll take you back.”
After thanking the driver, Song Chan draped the coat properly over Su Yicen and got out.
Perhaps from catching a draft on the way out, his condition seemed even worse than before.
Su Yicen kept his eyes closed, silently enduring, but the constant sweat on his forehead proved how bad he felt right now.
The hospital was quiet at night, with few patients in the emergency area. The empty hall was lit bright by cold fluorescent lights, filled with the unpleasant smell of disinfectant.
Facing this environment, Song Chan couldn’t help feeling anxious and scared. She wiped the sweat from Su Yicen’s forehead while struggling to support his heavy body.
With the on-duty nurse’s help, she registered for emergency care.
Since it was the middle of the night, no other patients were ahead of them. Song Chan helped Su Yicen into the exam room. The doctor inside was Chinese and appeared to be on in years.
The moment they entered, the doctor asked, “Chinese?”
“Yes, hello.” Song Chan replied politely.
Meeting fellow countrymen abroad instantly bridged the distance, and the old doctor’s face broke into a smile.
The old doctor was of an age where he didn’t recognize celebrities, but looking at Su Yicen, he felt an odd sense of familiarity. After pondering for a moment, he said, “You look really familiar. Kinda like that guy my granddaughter calls ‘hubby’ every day…”
Su Yicen was feeling a bit better. He lifted his noble, handsome face and said with dead seriousness, “You must be mistaken. I have a very common face.”
Song Chan glanced at his near-perfect “common face” and instantly understood what it meant to be infuriatingly handsome.
After a simple examination, the old doctor basically diagnosed Su Yicen’s condition.
“Fever from acute gastritis. Not a big issue. IV fluids will control it.”
As he filled out the visit form, the old doctor said, “Young man, you probably don’t eat properly usually, right? The body is the capital of revolution. You young folks are just too hardworking…”
He looked up at Song Chan beside him and instructed, “Young lady, as someone close to him, you need to supervise his eating. If this turns chronic or causes stomach bleeding, the consequences will be serious…”
Seeing Song Chan agree, the old doctor asked, “Is this your spouse?”
Hearing that somewhat unfamiliar but meaningful term, both Song Chan and Su Yicen froze. They looked at each other and forgot to respond for a moment.
Spouse? Yes, that seemed to fit.
At least legally, they could indeed call each other that.
Seeing their reactions, the old doctor couldn’t hold back a chuckle and continued praising, “Young man, you’re so lucky. Your spouse isn’t just pretty—she’s so caring too…”
The old doctor’s praises flowed endlessly. When they still didn’t reply, he smacked his forehead in realization and backtracked. “Spouse, partner—those are terms from our generation.”
“You young people call it wife, baby, right?”
The old doctor was quite chatty, and his topic happened to be perfect for a certain someone’s chance to peacock and show off.
Su Yicen ate it up. He couldn’t resist starting to flaunt.
“You get it. Calling her spouse is nice too.”
As he spoke, he pulled Song Chan into his arms, hooking his arm around her waist, and kept showing off.
“She really is my spouse. We’re legally married.”
The old doctor went on, “Then you two got married pretty early.”
The someone continued flaunting. “When it’s your spouse, you love ’em too much, so you marry early.”
The old doctor said, “Young man, you don’t get it. ‘Spouse’ is for outsiders. At home, it’s wife.”
“Oh~ wife~”
Su Yicen loved the sound of that. He immediately picked it up.
He turned to the now-cold-faced Song Chan with a fawning smile on his face.
He called out to her, “Wife~”
Having put up with Su Yicen for half the night, Song Chan finally couldn’t take it. She asked him, “Su Yicen, still hurting? Want that IV or not?”
With that, she wrenched free of his arm and headed for the door.
The man who got scolded, leveraging his illness and weak voice, deliberately lowered it further to play up a feeble emphasis.
Su Yicen clutched his stomach, which wasn’t hurting much anymore.
“My stomach hurts. Can’t stand. Wife, help me up…”
Song Chan held back her anger and turned back to support him.
If they weren’t abroad—if Su Yicen weren’t actually sick—she really would have ditched him.
With the doctor’s prescription in hand, Song Chan went to the pharmacy pickup. She didn’t understand the nurse’s blurted-out French.
A nearby Chinese nurse translated for her. “Family member pays first. Patient goes to the IV room and waits.”
The words were innocuous on their own, but when they reached Su Yicen’s ears, he latched onto them.
He deliberately emphasized and repeated, “Family member has to pay, huh…”
“Good thing I’m here with my family member.”
“So, trouble for my family member—wife~”
Su Yicen’s flaunting showed no signs of stopping. Unable to hold back her irritation, Song Chan lifted her foot and stomped hard on his.
He yelped in pain and hopped on his toes, pointing at her retreating back. His words came out, unclear if complaint or brag.
“The patient’s getting bullied by his family member. Don’t you guys do anything about it?”
The nurse: “…….”
After taking the medicine, Su Yicen’s stomach pain wasn’t so bad anymore.
His boldness grew noticeably. After all, here he didn’t have to worry about being recognized and could openly tease Song Chan.
Su Yicen’s brazenness came to an abrupt halt when the nurse brought the IV bag and it was time for the needle.
This fearless top idol had only one thing that instilled fear in him: injections.
Especially when he saw that the IV needle was the thickest black kind—Su Yicen refused no matter what.
His only compromise was swapping for the smallest purple needle. Embarrassed to ask himself, he pestered Song Chan to do it for him.
“Chanchan, ask her if she can switch to a purple needle—the thinnest kind.”
Song Chan had no choice but to ask on his behalf.
After simply explaining his phobia, the nurse nodded in understanding but seemed a bit surprised.
“Pediatric IV needle?”
“That’s for kids in pediatrics. I’ll borrow one from there.”
Complying with Su Yicen’s wishes, they fooled around until the latter half of the night, when the two bags of fluids finally finished infusing.
His stomach pain had mostly eased, though the fever hadn’t fully subsided. The nurse suggested heading back to continue physical cooling.
Back at the hotel, Su Yicen latched onto those two words: “wifey.”
Song Chan was in the bathroom wringing out a towel, intending to keep helping him cool down physically.
The man outside kept calling to her, over and over.
“Wifey~ Are you sleeping? Come join me.”
“Wifey~ I’m getting sleepy. Heading to bed first—waiting for you on it.”
“Wifey~…”
She ignored him completely. By the time Song Chan emerged from the bathroom, Su Yicen seemed to have fallen asleep.
She walked to the side of his bed and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. It was no longer hot, and his pale lips had regained some color.
Her gaze lingered on his lips, tracing over his sharply defined features. No matter how many times she looked, Su Yicen’s looks were enough to make her heart skip a beat all over again.
Song Chan stared in fascination until he suddenly grasped her hand, snapping her back to reality. He had opened his eyes at some point.
Caught peeking, she felt a bit guilty but still played tough.
“Weren’t you asleep…”
Su Yicen curved his lips, his lazy voice teasing her.
“You’re staring at me like that—how could I sleep?”
“Does that make me not a man?”
Tricked by him again, Song Chan turned her head away. She made to get up, but he gripped her wrist tightly.
She scolded him. “You’re sick like this—can’t you think healthy thoughts?”
“You should use this time to properly cultivate your mind and body.”
“Oh, cultivate my mind and body.” Su Yicen nodded, emphasizing the word: “Focus on the ‘body.'”
Song Chan was speechless, but he didn’t give her any chance to escape.
He propped himself up and sat, pulling her straight into his arms and hugging her tight.
“I missed you…”
Su Yicen’s low, hoarse voice trembled faintly, laced with a hint of grievance as he murmured coaxingly.
“Want to hold you…”
As he spoke, he tightened his embrace, resting his chin on her shoulder. The tip of his nose nudged lightly behind her ear, sending an itch straight to the tip of her heart.
A simple, rough collision of lips caught Song Chan off guard, crashing onto hers without any warning.
Su Yicen cradled the back of her neck, peppering her lips with fragmented kisses over and over, then deepening into a heated tangle of lips and tongues, lingering greedily on her taste.
A long while later, he finally released her reluctantly.
The faint discomfort in his stomach was written all over Su Yicen’s face. Veins bulged on his forehead, and he couldn’t stop frowning.
Teased until her heart fluttered wildly, Song Chan’s refusal came out hoarse, her breathing still ragged and unsmoothed.
She pushed at him, trying to refuse. “Wait until you’re better…”
“No. Today.”
Su Yicen wasn’t negotiating. He lifted her waist, proving with his actions that he wasn’t joking.
Meeting her eyes, he said word by word.
“This time, you’re on top.”