Jiang Zao returned to her workstation and saw a pile of items on her desk. She walked over and discovered that someone had sent a small box of medical ice packs, along with medications for reducing swelling and inflammation.
For some reason, Xie Lisheng immediately sprang to mind.
But… that didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be him.
Jiang Zao quietly asked Li Li, “Did you order this quick delivery?”
Li Li glanced at the ice packs in surprise. “No way. Did another colleague buy them for you? They would’ve let you know.”
Jiang Zao pulled out her chair and sat down. Her face hurt too badly to worry about who had sent them. She prepared an ice pack and pressed it to her cheek.
After the initial chill, the pain quickly subsided under the soothing cold.
She pulled out her new earphones and set them on the desk. That’s when she noticed a food container tucked beneath the medicine bag.
When Jiang Zao opened the container and saw what was inside, she froze in place, as if someone had hit pause on her.
Nestled in the elegant box were three alkaline buns in different flavors.
【Hey, I don’t want drinks anymore. I want alkaline buns.】
【Where the hell am I supposed to find alkaline buns for you in the middle of the night? You’re wasted.】
【Yeah, that’s right, I’m wasted. You lost my earphones, and you’re still being a jerk about it.】
Her heart felt pierced by an invisible needle. Warm blood oozed from the tiny wound, drenching her insides in chaos.
For a moment, she couldn’t tell what part of her was pounding so wildly.
Trouble had erupted last night right after she got off work and headed home. She’d tossed and turned all night, then prepped for a meeting first thing that morning. She’d nearly forgotten she hadn’t eaten a thing.
Jiang Zao took one out, unwrapped it, and took a bite. The simple pleasure of eating flooded her brain.
She chewed slowly, her downcast eyes serene, even as her heart churned with turmoil.
It was just a pair of earphones.
Why did he go to such lengths, replacing every single thing… one by one?
She’d only mentioned it offhand.
~~~
She didn’t see Xie Lisheng for the rest of the day. After sending those items, he made no further sign.
The next day and the day after passed the same way—normal commutes, no sign of him anywhere.
Though she and Zhou Ying had the gall to insist they could keep staying, the Landlady Auntie had reached her limit. Terrified of more drama, she refunded their remaining rent and told them to clear out.
Venting had felt great in the moment, but getting booted meant a frantic, exhausting move. Jiang Zao could only crash with Li Li for now while hunting for a new place.
Maybe it was the exhaustion from overwork, the fight, the move, the fickle weather giving her a cold, and her facial wound refusing to heal—possibly even infected.
Whatever the cause, that afternoon, Jiang Zao confirmed she was running a low fever.
Truth be told, she’d felt off since morning—dizzy, head pounding, throat raw—but she’d pushed through to work anyway.
By the end of lunch break, she could barely wake up. The nap had only made her feel worse. Clutching her burning forehead, she inwardly cursed her luck and pulled up her schedule, frantically planning how to handle the coming days if the fever lingered.
Her wilted state tanked her afternoon productivity to dismal levels.
As always, her colleagues clocked out after hours, leaving her to stay late and grind.
But the longer she sat, the heavier her eyelids grew. Jiang Zao dug out the fever meds she’d bought at noon and started to pry one from the foil pack—then remembered she’d already taken a dose hours ago. Helpless and deflated, she tossed them aside and thumped her fist against her forehead.
At nine-thirty that night, summoning her last reserves of strength, she finally finished tweaking the analysis report. She fired it off to her boss’s inbox and could at last head home.
Jiang Zao packed up, noting how few people were working late tonight. With drooping eyelids, she headed downstairs.
What she needed now was to collapse into bed and sleep like the dead.
Head down, she shuffled out of the elevator lobby toward the main entrance when a gray shadow barreled into her—she had no time to dodge.
Jiang Zao slammed unprepared into a broad, warm chest. Her forehead throbbed from the impact.
The man caught her shoulders just in time, steadying her to keep her from rebounding and falling. His large hands enveloped her shoulders with room to spare.
“Sor—” they both blurted at once.
She looked up into Xie Lisheng’s eyes. Surprise flickered into her glazed stare. “You.”
Xie Lisheng checked his watch, then her. “Working late again?”
Jiang Zao nodded. Standing so close, she caught the whiff of alcohol on his breath with every inhale. “Are you drunk?”
Even someone who wasn’t drunk couldn’t just barrel straight into another person like that.
“Mm…” Xie Lisheng steadied himself, though it seemed to take some effort. He pinched the bridge of his nose and frowned. “Just got back from entertaining clients.”
She nodded again. “I’ll head back now. See you.”
Jiang Zao had barely taken a step when her arm was suddenly grabbed. Her heart skipped a beat. She turned back and saw that his lips were strikingly red now that he was drunk.
Xie Lisheng stared at her. He rarely asked anyone for help. “Could you come upstairs with me for a bit?”
“I need to grab something from the Vice Presidents’ Office for my business trip. It might be hard to find. I’ve had a bit too much to drink—my head and eyes aren’t cooperating.”
Though Jiang Zao wanted to say she was feverish and just as muddled, she followed him upstairs anyway.
Xie Lisheng’s ID Card granted access to any room. She followed him smoothly into the Vice Presidents’ Office.
He wasn’t lying—the item really was tricky to reach. The vice president had even stashed it on the top shelf of the bookcase, requiring a chair to climb up.
Jiang Zao steadied the stool for him as he wobbled while reaching for the box. She said worriedly, “You… you sure you’re okay? Maybe I should do it.”
Xie Lisheng glanced down at her. “How tall are you?”
Jiang Zao answered honestly, “Five foot seven.”
Xie Lisheng raised an eyebrow. “Six foot three.”
She sighed helplessly. “…Carry on, then.”
He turned back to retrieve his things.
Xie Lisheng held the cardboard box of odds and ends in one hand while steadying himself against the bookcase with the other, easing it down slowly.
No one knew which step he misjudged, but with a muffled grunt, his massive frame came crashing down—
The box hit the floor with a clatter, spilling papers and models everywhere.
Jiang Zao was burning up with fever herself and had no strength to push him off. In her panic, she grabbed at his bulging chest muscles.
Hm? Wait.
What was this texture?
Right at that moment, every light in the room flickered and died one after another—
Plunging them into pitch blackness.
She jumped in fright. “Wh-what’s going on?!”
Xie Lisheng glanced at the ceiling light. “Power maintenance starts at ten sharp tonight. The company should’ve announced it. Didn’t you see?”
Jiang Zao shook her head. She’d been too delirious with fever that afternoon to check anything like that.
No wonder so few people were working overtime tonight.
“There should be an emergency flashlight. Where’s the door?” Xie Lisheng called out, groping in the dark. “Jiang Zao?”
She responded and reached out blindly, her hand brushing against his.
A jolt ran through her. She yanked her hand back on instinct, but he caught it.
In that instant, it felt like her breath had stopped.
Xie Lisheng gripped her wrist, his long fingers brushing her palm. Maybe it was the alcohol, but his hold felt anything but proper.
It was like hand-holding, but not quite.
“Guide me. It’s even dizzier in the dark,” he said.
Her pulse was pounding in her throat. Jiang Zao feigned calm and managed a stumbling “Mm,” tugging his hand as they fumbled forward.
Neither of them knew the Vice Presidents’ Office layout well, so they bumped into things every few steps.
Xie Lisheng’s night vision was sharp; he spotted the desk corner and printer about to clip her. “Wait.”
He yanked her back with a firm pull.
Jiang Zao floated like a soft cloud, jerked backward. She spun too fast, her fever-dazed head spinning, and her feet lost their footing.
She staggered back, her shoulders slamming into the glass partition.
Xie Lisheng lunged forward to shield her and ended up pressed against her.
Both were breathing heavily for their own reasons, the scents of alcohol and illness clashing and mingling in the dimness.
Jiang Zao stared at her hand, which had somehow ended up on his chest again. Reason screamed for her to pull it away, but it felt glued in place.
The moment had come too abruptly, and with both of them in rough shape, they needed a beat to collect themselves.
Just as Jiang Zao thought to push him off, she heard him ask out of nowhere—
“Were those alkaline buns any good?”
She blinked in surprise. Peering through the dark, she realized his gaze had been fixed on her face the whole time.
Her face burned hotter, and she looked away. “So it was you who bought them… Really, you didn’t have to go to the trouble.”
But he ignored her polite deflection. “I tried the red bean ones. Too sweet. What did you think?”
Her mind was a buzzing mess, her whole face scorching—though she couldn’t tell if it was the fever or something else.
Either way, she was a wreck. A total wreck.
His drunken voice was rougher than usual, sending a tingly itch straight to her ears.
Damn it. Why did it have to sound so good? So damn annoying.
“I had the sausage ones. They were delicious… the best alkaline buns I’ve ever eaten.”
Their current situation—their posture—was the absolute last setup for chatting about something so trivial.
Yet that’s exactly what they did, in the strangest way.
“I’d never even tried alkaline buns before you mentioned them.”
Xie Lisheng propped one arm above Jiang Zao’s head, resisting the urge to smooth down her messy hair as he leaned down to gaze at her face. “After tasting it, I’ve come to like it too now.”
Jiang Zao’s breathing had grown utterly chaotic, her eyelids heavy and burning hot. She desperately wanted to tell him that she wasn’t feeling well, but she was even more reluctant to interrupt their unexpectedly harmonious conversation.
“Oh… then you…”
“Jiang Zao?”
She shook her head, trying to stay alert, but her vision was already starting to blur.
Don’t say anything. Right now, she couldn’t even sort out her own feelings toward Xie Lisheng…
So, you stop talking first. Don’t say anything. Don’t call my name.
Outside the glass wall hung an emergency light, its green glow illuminating the side of her face.
Xie Lisheng noticed something was off with her. He leaned down for a closer look, tilting his head as he asked, “Are you sick?”
Jiang Zao grabbed his clothes for support to steady herself and happened to lean in close—
It was hard to say whether it was the perfect angle or if one of them had done it on purpose.
Her fever-hot lips brushed against the corner of his mouth, and Xie Lisheng froze.
The hand he’d raised to check her forehead hovered motionless in midair.