Shoutout to Kari for the commission!
Just as Le Cheng sent his last voice message, Tan Xiaobai came out with a towel draped over his shoulders.
He wasn’t used to sending voice messages in front of others, so he just picked a cute meme at random and sent it without really looking at it.
Tan Xiaobai called out to him, “Le Cheng, you should go take a shower, too.”
“Oh, okay.” Le Cheng looked down to find the body wash.
Meanwhile, Zhou Shirui held his phone, remaining motionless for a long time.
Suddenly, it vibrated, and he finally lowered his gaze to glance at the screen.
It was a meme showing two chibi fish heads kissing each other, their tails intertwined to form a heart shape.
It carried a subtly suggestive undertone.
Zhou Shirui wasn’t sure if he was reading too much into it, but he stared at it for a while before feeling his mouth go dry. He put down his phone and reached for his water glass, but accidentally brushed against the voice memo bar again.
“Bobo~”
The Bluetooth earbuds, still securely in his ears, immediately activated.
It sounded like a fish blowing bubbles, or a dragonfly skimming the water or perhaps like a kiss, mimicking the sound of lips parting.
Le Cheng seemed to love making these vague sounds, it was hard to tell if he was just being playful or something else.
Le Cheng came out of the shower and noticed Zhou Shirui hadn’t replied.
He glanced at it briefly, didn’t think much of it, dried his hair, took his tablet to bed, put on his earbuds, and found a TV series to watch.
After watching for a while while lying on his stomach, his phone, which was lying beside him, notified him of a message. Le Cheng casually turned his head to take a look.
[Mom]
He perked up immediately, scrambled to his feet, sat cross-legged, placed the phone in the palm of his hand, and tapped it with a hint of nervousness
[Mom: Chengcheng, do you still have enough money for this month?]
Le Cheng thought for a moment before replying: [It’s enough.]
[Mom: Are you sure it’s enough? If it’s not, tell us. We earn money so you can spend it. If you’re short, your dad just got paid, too.]
Le Cheng unconsciously furrowed his brow. He’d once skimmed through the chat history; the original host’s parents were in fair health and didn’t earn much, but the original host would often make up excuses every month to ask for money. This dynamic could be described as a case of “one willing to hit, one willing to be hit.” Le Cheng wouldn’t pass judgment, but he couldn’t bring himself to act so unabashedly.
He’d been adopted by his foster parents at a very young age. Their love wasn’t overwhelming, but it was generous enough. Even after they had a younger brother, they never withheld anything from him and always supported his art studies. From childhood onward, he’d never lacked love. Though he wasn’t raised to be spoiled, his heart was rich, peaceful, and resilient.
He began taking on commissions in college, partly because his financial security gave him more confidence, and partly because he wanted to try supporting himself.
Even when his adoptive parents learned of his earnings, they never asked him to contribute to the household; instead, they consistently sent him living expenses on time.
This unassuming yet accepting bond instilled in Le Cheng a sense of equality; his personality wasn’t particularly stubborn, nor was he especially spoiled.
[Orange: Mom, please save Dad’s paycheck for yourselves. I have enough here, don’t worry about me. It’s getting colder lately, so make sure to bundle up.]
[Mom: What a good kid, you’ve even learned to care for others. Mom is so happy.]
[Mom: You wear more clothes, too. Everything’s fine at home, you just need to focus on your studies.]
[Orange: Okay.]
Le Cheng glanced at his phone a couple more times, knowing the matter was settled.
This exchange brought a long-missed warmth of family affection and unlocked long-forgotten memories. Before he had traveled through time, Le Cheng actually didn’t keep in touch much with his adoptive parents on WeChat.
He wondered what they would do if they realized he’d disappeared…
Le Cheng lay on his back on the bed, feeling a faint sense of sadness, but after only a moment, he suddenly sat up, grabbed his phone, and glanced at the IOU he’d jotted down in his notes.
That’s right.
IOUs.
The original owner owed a total of 160,000, not all from a single app, but more like robbing Peter to pay Paul, with debts ranging from a few thousand to tens of thousands in various places.
Le Cheng hadn’t really spoken with “Mom” before, so his memories of this part had faded; now that it suddenly came back to him, he simply couldn’t spare a moment to dwell on anything else.
No way.
You’re still watching TV? How can you stand watching it at your age?
Le Cheng gave up on resting, got out of bed with a grim expression, and prepared to go draw.
Tan Xiaobai, whose bed was right across from his, leaned over and asked, “In such a hurry? Need to use the bathroom?”
“No.” Le Cheng shook his head. “I have to go downstairs to draw.”
Tan Xiaobai: “???” That driven?
Actually, after falling into debt, the best solution would be to ask his parents for help, but Le Cheng knew better. Besides, the original host’s family had been practically drained dry for years, they barely made it through each month and they certainly couldn’t come up with 200,000 all at once.
If he couldn’t come up with 200,000 yuan all at once, it wouldn’t be much different from paying it off slowly on his own.
Although he’d decided from the start to follow the original plot and accept the breakup settlement, Le Cheng should also have the ability to repay this money himself. He could take the money first to cover his immediate needs, then pay it back to Zhou Shirui.
Le Cheng, energized as if on a sugar high, turned on his computer and began drawing.
He drew until nearly 3:00 a.m., when he finally stumbled groggily into bed to sleep, making sure to set an alarm for 9:30 so he could accompany Zhou Shirui to class.
But things didn’t go as planned. When he woke up the next day, Le Cheng’s head felt foggy, his breath was scorching hot, and he was curled up under the covers, unable to get out of bed.
Tan Xiaobai thought he was fast asleep, so he left without waking him. With no one else in the dorm, Le Cheng reached up to touch his forehead; he felt dizzy but couldn’t tell if he was running a fever.
He slowly crawled out of bed, his head spinning, and found a thermometer to tuck under his armpit.
Five minutes later, he took it out and shook it, to his surprise, his temperature had already risen to 38.6.
Le Cheng was curled up in a soft chair, barely able to get up, looking like a puddle of melted jelly.
After resting for a while, he rummaged through his drawers looking for medicine but only found two anti-inflammatory pills. Figuring anti-inflammatory would do, he swallowed both with some water.
As he slumped back over his desk, Le Cheng suddenly remembered he wouldn’t be able to go to class with Zhou Shirui. He pulled out his phone and sent him a message.
[Orange: I’m feeling a little under the weather. Looks like I won’t be able to go to class with you today.]
After typing that out with great effort, Le Cheng nearly fell asleep while resting his head on the desk, only to be jolted awake by his phone ringing.
He pressed half his face against the cool, icy desk, closed his eyes in comfort, and held his phone in one hand to read the message.
[Big Brother: ?]
[Big Brother: Okay.]
These two messages were sent back-to-back.
[Big Brother: What’s wrong?]
This one was sent three minutes later.
Le Cheng’s hand felt weak as he slowly tapped the screen, and Tan Xiaobai’s chat window suddenly popped up.
[Little White Rabbit White and White: Le Cheng, should I bring you lunch when I head back later? Are you still eating with Zhou Shirui?]
Le Cheng thought for a moment and decided to reply to this message first.
[Orange: Okay, Xiaobai, please bring me some. I think I have a slight fever, but it’s not too bad. I’m out of medicine here, do you have any left?]
[Little White Rabbit: I don’t think I have any left either, but I’ll stop by the pharmacy on my way back and pick some up for you.]
[Orange: Okay, thanks, Xiaobai.]
[Orange: Puppy Bowing.jpg]
After replying to Tan Xiaobai, Le Cheng switched back to the other chat.
[Orange: I have a slight fever.]
[Big Brother: Is it bad? Should you go to the infirmary?] Zhou Shirui replied very quickly this time.
It was break time between the first two classes, and since they had to switch classrooms, everyone was trickling out one by one.
Cheng Yufei called out from behind, “Big Brother Rui, let’s go, we need to head to the academic building.”
Zhou Shirui furrowed his brow. “Wait a sec.”
“Oh.” Cheng Yufei found an empty seat and sat down. “I’ll just check if the professor has started taking attendance yet.”
[Orange: Not going]
Le Cheng took quite a while to reply, and his tone seemed rather defiant.
Zhou Shirui wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. [Big Brother: What’s your temperature?]
[Orange: 38.6]
This was already considered a moderate fever. Combined with Le Cheng’s usual “spoiled and spacey” demeanor, Zhou Shirui found it hard not to suspect that Le Cheng was playing hooky because he was sick.
[Big Brother: Have you taken any medicine?]
Le Cheng lifted his eyelashes to glance at him; he’d typed such short messages simply because he couldn’t lift his hand, nothing else.
[Orange: No,]
[Big Brother: Are you allergic to any medication?]
Le Cheng had a fever, and his reactions were sluggish; it took him a moment to grasp what Zhou Shirui meant.
[Orange: You don’t need to come, Xiaobai will bring me some medicine.]
Xiaobai?
That’s a very intimate nickname, Zhou Shirui thought.
Le Cheng thought the conversation was over, but his phone suddenly buzzed. He hurriedly answered it.
“Hello?” Le Cheng’s voice was soft, still a bit hoarse from the fever. “Zhou Shirui, why are you calling me…”
“When will he bring it back to you?” Zhou Shirui asked succinctly.
“Um… maybe, maybe around lunchtime,” Le Cheng answered honestly.
“That’s too late,” Zhou Shirui said sternly. “If you don’t take your medicine on time, it’ll get worse and affect your IQ.”
Le Cheng felt as if Zhou Shirui were calling him stupid.
Since he’d fallen ill, he’d become a bit petty: “How dare you call me stupid? I’m not talking to you anymore.”
…It’s a fact,” Zhou Shirui paused. “You don’t have to ignore me.”
Le Cheng mumbled “Mm-hmm” in agreement. He didn’t remember how he hung up the phone, nor how much time had passed, when there was a knock on the dorm room door, and he hazily called out, “Come in.”
It wasn’t until someone touched his forehead, a slightly cool sensation, that Le Cheng instinctively rubbed against that coolness, and only then did he open his eyes.
“…Zhou Shirui?” He froze for a moment.
“Mm.” Zhou Shirui withdrew his hand and said, “Take your medicine, then go upstairs and sleep.”
“But—but I can’t get up,” Le Cheng shook his head, trying to negotiate. “Can I just sleep here for a little while first?”
Zhou Shirui opened the medicine and placed it in Le Cheng’s palm; Le Cheng washed it down with water in one gulp.
“I really can’t make it up there,” Le Cheng pleaded pitifully, “If I fall, my IQ will drop.”
Because of the fever, the corners of Le Cheng’s eyes were flushed crimson, and the color of his lips was deeper than usual. Having just drunk some water, they were moist and plump, like a ripe red berry.
Zhou Shirui paused for two seconds before looking away, saying softly, “I’ll help you up.”
Le Cheng nodded and said, “Okay.” Zhou Shirui supported his back with one hand.
Le Cheng’s legs were weak, and as he was being lifted forward, his left foot accidentally missed the step. Zhou Shirui reacted quickly, grabbing hold of his waist.
So light, Zhou Shirui furrowed his brow; supporting him required no effort at all.
Le Cheng was wearing only his pajamas, and the sudden movement had caused his top to ride up, revealing a sliver of his fair, beautiful back.
Zhou Shirui looked away as if he’d been electrocuted. An inexplicable sense of restlessness welled up in his heart, but he used a deft touch to lift him up, and Le Cheng climbed onto the bed smoothly.
Lying on the bed, Le Cheng hadn’t noticed a thing. Though he was still a bit dazed, he didn’t forget to thank Zhou Shirui.
“Thank you,” Le Cheng said, squinting his eyes sweetly. “You’re so kind.”
He looked just like a little stuffed animal, his nose was rosy, and he seemed harmless, adorable, and even a bit silly, as if he were revealing his truest self.
That thought made Zhou Shirui curve his lips into a smile: “That’s the only thing you know how to say.”
Le Cheng was dazed by his fever. Seeing him smile, a rare display of gentleness, he couldn’t help but ask in a soft, gentle tone: “Am I a lot of trouble? Am I bothering you?”
“No.” Zhou Shirui paused for a moment. “You’re very cute.”
