Feverish Suspicions

Jiang Chen snapped back to reality, the intense emotions swirling in his eyes instantly receding. The spot on his palm where he had been brushed still felt faintly warm.

Before him was Zhou Yi’s face, flushed an unnatural red from coughing. His short hair clung disheveled to his sweaty forehead, and he wore a faded cotton pajama set.

He looked utterly listless, a male college student completely withered by illness.

Yet, the memory that had flashed back moments ago was far too vivid, and utterly ill-timed.

The unconscious habit of biting her lower lip when nervous, the apprehension in those eyes when they looked at him…

And then, several completely different impressions clashed in his mind, stirring him into a state of agitation.

‘Why am I thinking of her at a time like this?’

‘Why would Zhou Yi’s accidental touch conjure such an unrelated scene?’

The shadow of ‘her’ and the sickly face before him absurdly overlapped in his mind for a brief moment.

‘She… equals… him?’

‘No, impossible.’

‘This is too ridiculous! I’ve lived in the same dorm as Zhou Yi for a year and a half. How could I not know if he’s a boy or a girl? We’ve played basketball, gamed online, and discussed which female teachers had solid courses. If I could still be mistaken, I might as well donate my eyes.’

‘Could it be that I’ve been under too much stress lately, overthinking everything, causing hallucinations? Am I unconsciously projecting plots from movies or novels I’ve read onto Zhou Yi?’

Yet…

Those fleeting images, and the subtle, increasingly undeniable changes in Zhou Yi’s body… every single detail felt so real it made his heart pound with unease.

Jiang Chen’s mind was utterly chaotic, bombarded by this barrage of conjecture and speculation.

Zhou Yi, however, remained completely oblivious. In those brief seconds while Jiang Chen fed him medicine, his roommate’s inner world had undergone a cataclysmic drama, completely reshaping his worldview.

After taking the medicine, he drowsily lay back down on the bed, murmuring indistinctly, “The medicine… today’s day shift…”

“Just take the day off today,” Jiang Chen said, his voice softer than usual. He turned his back to put away the water glass, concealing his still-racing heart. “You can’t even stand steadily, how are you going to shake milk tea?”

Zhou Yi nodded into his pillow, barely having the strength to speak. He knew himself that in his current state, getting out of bed was a challenge.

He fumbled for his phone, squinting as he painstakingly found the Manager’s profile picture. His fingers trembled slightly as he typed: [Manager, sorry, I have a cold and fever today, so I need to take a day off.]

Not long after he sent the message, the Manager replied: [Get some good rest! The temperature drop has been really bad these past two days, lots of people are getting sick.]

The Manager even included a ‘hug’ emoji.

Zhou Yi looked at the emoji and tried to force a smile, but the movement tugged at his dry, aching throat, triggering another fit of soft coughs.

He put down his phone and lay back in bed. Though he was bundled tightly in his blanket, he still felt waves of cold seeping from his bones.

The heavy, bloated feeling in his lower abdomen hadn’t disappeared with the cold; instead, it intertwined with his headache and body aches, making him feel intensely uncomfortable.

“Are you hungry?” Jiang Chen asked, standing by the bed. “I’ll go to the cafeteria and get some congee.”

“No appetite…” Zhou Yi mumbled, burying half his face in the quilt.

Jiang Chen said nothing more, turning to enter the bathroom. Soon, the sound of the water heater starting up could be heard, followed by the splash of a towel being immersed in a basin.

A moment later, he emerged with a wrung-out hot towel and gently placed it on Zhou Yi’s forehead. The warm, damp sensation seeped into his skin, temporarily alleviating some of the throbbing headache.

It was a dull, heavy ache, punctuated by sharp pangs.

Zhou Yi was startled by the sudden warmth, opening his eyes to look at him.

“Close your eyes and rest,” Jiang Chen said, his tone even. He turned to put on his jacket. “I’m going out to buy some food; I’ll be back soon. Don’t get out of bed.”

The door closed softly.

Zhou Yi was left alone in the dorm room. The quiet made the various discomforts in his body more pronounced: the dull ache in his lower abdomen, the swelling in his chest, the dry, itchy throat, and the recurring shivers.

He curled up in the blankets, pressing his fingers against his chest.

The sensation there… felt softer than yesterday, almost subtly yielding, with a faint, elastic curve that was entirely different from the firm muscle texture of the rest of his body.

An absurd thought, one he had desperately suppressed, surged forward uncontrollably once more.

“No, it can’t be…” he murmured into the air, as if trying to convince himself. “It must be from being bumped by Xiao Ju yesterday, or maybe it’s stress and hormonal imbalance…”

The phrase ‘hormonal imbalance’ itself pointed directly to the possibility he was unwilling to confront.

“Don’t overthink it…”

“You’re a man.”

“You always have been.”

Jiang Chen, who had just walked out, paused at the doorway.

He found his thoughts more muddled than ever.

The only clear thing was an unbidden concern for the person on the bed, and a certain… quietly growing preoccupation that he himself hadn’t yet fully understood.

****

After an unknown amount of time, the sound of the door lock turning pulled Zhou Yi back from his semiconscious state.

Jiang Chen had returned, carrying takeout bags of vegetable congee and hot soy milk.

The aroma of the food wafted through the room.

“Sit up and eat something,” Jiang Chen said, opening the congee container.

Zhou Yi struggled to prop himself up, his throat and chest aching painfully.

Jiang Chen placed a pillow behind him. His arm briefly brushed against the skin of Zhou Yi’s nape.

The close proximity allowed Jiang Chen to distinctly catch the faint, sweet jasmine scent once more, mingling with the subtle minty aroma that was uniquely Zhou Yi’s.

His movements paused almost imperceptibly, but he asked nothing, simply handing the spoon to Zhou Yi. “Eat it while it’s warm.”

Zhou Yi took the spoon and lowered his head, sipping the congee in small mouthfuls. The warm rice porridge slid down his throat, and a gentle warmth slowly permeated his chilled limbs. He ate only half a bowl before his appetite vanished, and he shook his head, retreating back into the blankets.

This cold seemed particularly aggressive, far beyond what a typical cold medicine could suppress.

Zhou Yi slept fitfully for a day, waking several times due to violent coughing fits and alternating waves of chills and heat. The towel on his forehead was replaced repeatedly, yet the thermometer stubbornly hovered between 38 and 39 degrees Celsius.

The next morning, it wasn’t until his alarm clock rang for the third time that Zhou Yi managed to pry his eyes open just a slit.

He felt lightheaded and heavy-footed, with an ache seeping from every bone in his body. His throat was so swollen and sore he could barely utter a sound.

Jiang Chen had already packed up, stuffing textbooks into his bag. When he turned around and saw Zhou Yi still sprawled on the bed, his face flushed with fever, his brows immediately furrowed tightly.

“Still feverish?” He tossed his bag onto a chair and quickly walked to the bedside, reaching out to check Zhou Yi’s forehead. The heat radiating into his palm made his fingertips imperceptibly clench for a moment. “You’re burning up like this. I’ll take you to the infirmary.”