DSF Chapter 62

Yan Yibing squinted his eyes, the corners tinged with red. Angrily, he lifted his leg and kicked Han Mo.

He was both angry and worried.

Angry because Han Mo became addicted to kissing him, and each time was more outrageous than the last. He was running a fever, feeling weak, and couldn’t muster the strength to throw a tantrum in public. Han Mo had almost left him breathless with the intensity of his kisses.

Worried because this time he had completely encountered the virus. No matter how tough Han Mo was, he couldn’t avoid being infected.

Being sick was not a good thing. Moreover, the team doctor had mentioned that he could only endure it as there were no specific medicines.

For the next week, Han Mo would probably have to isolate himself along with Yan Yibing.

Yu Yan and Chen Chi, once they found out, would definitely explode.

Despite Yan Yibing’s kicking, Han Mo didn’t rub his leg. He only looked bright-eyed, satisfied, and murmured, “The bruises from before haven’t faded yet.”

In Yan Yibing’s mind, he cursed fiercely. Served him right!

But in reality, he didn’t say anything. He just turned his face away, with a cold look in his eyes, avoiding Han Mo’s gaze.

He didn’t know what to do.

Should he quarrel with Han Mo like before, just like in the past?

He didn’t want to, because the estrangement had been cleared up and there was no deep hatred. Apart from the skewed emotional perceptions, he quite liked Han Mo.

It was the kind of fondness a master has for a talented disciple.

At most, add a bit of satisfaction for Han Mo’s subtle consideration that struck a chord in his heart.

Moreover, the first time he was kissed, he was shocked, terrified, his limbs went numb, and there was a suppressed fire inside him, making him irritable towards everyone.

But the second time, there was a hint of habituation, feeling that it wasn’t worth a strong reaction anymore.

Especially after Han Mo kissed him, his eyes were bright, whether scolded or hit, he spoke cautiously, carefully watching his expressions.

He seemed like a little wolf who had stolen its owner’s canned food, and shrunk its claws in grievance and excitement.

It couldn’t be reasoned with, logic was all over the place, and it couldn’t be solved with a single blow.

Yan Yibing pulled the hood of his coat over his head, covering his forehead and the slightly swollen ears exposed outside. He hurried downstairs.

Han Mo followed suit.

He was a bit taller than Yan Yibing, and his strides were longer.

But to avoid feeling uncomfortable at this moment, he still maintained a certain distance from Yan Yibing.

The emergency room doctor wanted to keep Yan Yibing in the hospital for an IV drip, but the emergency room was out of beds, and he had to sit on a chair.

Yan Yibing declined, so the doctor prescribed some fever-reducing medicine and asked him to follow the instructions.

After paying and getting the medicine, smelling the bitter taste of the pharmacy, Yan Yibing’s stomach felt empty and sour. But he couldn’t talk to Han Mo about it, so he just put on a straight face and tried to act normal, moving through the hospital lobby.

By the time he left the hospital, it was completely dark outside.

In the pitch-black night, the stars and moon appeared exceptionally bright.

But that was just how it seemed.

The city lights were brighter, the hospital lights even more so.

It was like an ever-glowing house, tirelessly serving humans who might arrive at any time.

They were the tiny yet thriving lives in this city.

It was difficult to catch a cab outside the hospital. Firstly, the hospital’s doctors were off duty, and private cars continuously streamed out of the parking lot, causing a small traffic jam at the intersection.

Secondly, many people were also hailing cabs to go home, and the taxi app had hundreds of people in line.

Yan Yibing squinted, standing in the night breeze. Stray hairs uncovered by his hood were blown into his eyes by the wind.

He hugged his abdomen, subconsciously preserving his body heat.

Even though he was wearing thick clothes, his fever was severe, making his body weak. The hotter his body inside, the colder his skin felt.

Han Mo glanced at him, took off his own coat, and draped it over Yan Yibing’s shoulders.

Although his coat was thin, it could block some wind.

Yan Yibing shivered but tried to shake it off. Han Mo was resolute, pressing on his shoulder, preventing him from moving erratically.

Whether it was an illusion or not, with an extra layer of protection, Yan Yibing felt a little less cold.

He wisely refrained from struggling.

After waiting for over half an hour, a taxi finally arrived.

As soon as Yan Yibing got in the car, he uncomfortably slumped in the seat, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows.

He had endured it to the limit. If another car didn’t come, he would have to ask the club’s driver to work overtime.

In the taxi, he was afraid of the virus leaking out, so he tightly fastened his mask, making it difficult to breathe.

After half an hour of driving, the road was congested, and the constant stop-and-go made his stomach churn.

As soon as they reached the residential area, Yan Yibing quickly got out of the car, ran to the roadside, hunched over, pulled off his mask, and retched.

There was nothing in his stomach, only acidic water. His legs were weak from vomiting and he couldn’t open his eyes.

He had an intuition that his body temperature was definitely more than 38 degrees.

A temperature of 38 degrees wouldn’t make him feel this terrible.

He breathed heavily, coughing, but every cough tugged at the swelling behind his ears, causing a persistent ache.

This illness was too painful.

He felt certain that Han Mo would regret it so much, regret infecting himself with something so uncomfortable just to kiss him.

“Baby, I’ll carry you back.” Han Mo paid and came over to support him.

Han Mo’s arms were strong and powerful, slowly transferring the weight of his body onto himself.

Yan Yibing’s eyelids trembled.

Actually, he heard what Han Mo had just called him.

He called him “baby.”

He didn’t even call him master, he simply didn’t care about his anger.

But in extreme discomfort, one doesn’t have the mood to care about anything.

He just wanted to feel a little better.

Yan Yibing didn’t refuse, limp, and slumped onto Han Mo’s back.

Han Mo slightly bent over, hands holding onto his legs. With a little effort, he hoisted him up, then naturally shifted a couple of times, finding the most comfortable position, firmly locking his knees.

Yan Yibing wasn’t sure if he was heavy, but it was effortless for Han Mo to carry him.

His hands, powerless, hooked around Han Mo’s neck, head tilted, resting on the side of Han Mo’s shoulder.

Soft hair fell gently, lightly brushing against Han Mo’s nape.

His face was very hot, and he believed that even through the mask, Han Mo could feel it. Then, Han Mo seemed to deliberately rub his ear against his mask.

Yan Yibing, with half-opened almond eyes, cast a slightly scattered gaze at Han Mo’s side profile.

Han Mo was still young, with tight, elastic skin, a slight protrusion at the ear roots, and a beautifully sculpted chin.

His hair was jet-black, contrasting against his fair skin, trimmed neatly around the ears. His narrow eyes at the ends were cold and sharp.

Yan Yibing closed his eyes, and increased his breathing pace, exhaling the heat from his body, feeling a bit more comfortable.

Han Mo carried him steadily, and walked fast, but the force of his hands pressing against his legs was quite strong.

The force was reciprocal, and Han Mo’s fingers probably wouldn’t feel too comfortable either.

Fingers…

Suddenly, his stomach churned again, and Yan Yibing immediately stopped thinking about anything else.

At the doorstep, there was no one inside.

The housekeeper had already left, and his parents had gone out in the afternoon.

Yan Yibing muttered the password to Han Mo, and with one hand, Han Mo opened the door, carrying him all the way to his bedroom upstairs.

As soon as Yan Yibing touched the bed, he rolled into the quilt.

Wrapped in the blanket, he closed his eyes and softly said, “Thanks, you should hurry back.”

Han Mo shook his arm, then squatted at the edge of Yan Yibing’s bed, gazing at his face. He lifted his hand, played with his messy hair, and tucked the strands behind his ear, ensuring that his eyes were not covered.

Then, Han Mo leaned closer to him and gently pulled down his mask. “I won’t go back, I’ll stay here in your room with you.”

Yan Yibing opened his eyes, frowned, and looked at him with a touch of complaint.

Han Mo boldly looked at him, his fingers lightly skimming his cheek.

It was burning hot, but the skin was dry and smooth.

“Don’t sleep yet, I’ll get you water and your medicine,” Han Mo said.

Yan Yibing pursed his lips, his breath heavy. “Han Mo, you really want to get infected, don’t you?”

Han Mo didn’t seem to care, lightly chuckling. “You’re so scared of me getting infected, where’s your thermometer?”

Yan Yibing’s eyelashes trembled, weakly saying, “Who cares about you.” After a moment, he whispered again, “There’s no thermometer; the temperature gauge is in the medicine box under the TV in the living room.”

Han Mo helped him take off his bulky clothes, firmly wrapping him up in the blanket. “Got it.”

He turned off the main light, switched on the lemon-yellow bedside lamp, then stood up, holding the fever-reducing medicine given by the hospital, and went downstairs.

Yan Yibing no longer rushed Han Mo to leave.

No one dislikes being taken care of, especially in times of extreme physical discomfort.

He was worried about Han Mo getting infected, angry that Han Mo took advantage of him when he was weak. However, that didn’t mean he didn’t need someone by his side right now.

This person didn’t fear the virus and was willingly busy helping in every way possible.

Yan Yibing sighed.

What a mess this was.

He dozed off with his eyes closed for a while, the warmth of the quilt and the subsiding acidity in his stomach made him feel a bit better.

After quite some time, Han Mo came up carrying two bowls, a thermometer nestled between his fingers.

Yan Yibing, with difficulty, opened his eyes to find one hand with warm water and the other with a steaming bowl of glutinous dumpling soup.

Presumably, during their last meal together at his place, Han Mo had taken note of the position of the tableware and flour.

Setting down the water, Han Mo placed the bowl of soup in front of Yan Yibing. “Eat something before taking the medicine; otherwise, your stomach will feel uncomfortable.”

Running a fever, Yan Yibing had no appetite. He turned his head, burying it in the pillow.

Han Mo held the bowl, waiting silently for a few seconds, then tugged at his blanket, revealing his head.

With a light chuckle, Han Mo put the bowl aside and stared at the back of Yan Yibing’s head. “Are you trying to act spoiled with me?”

Yan Yibing’s heart skipped a beat, feeling a tightness in his chest, and his ears began to heat up again.

Muttering, he said, “Who’s acting spoiled with you.”

Han Mo’s eyes slightly lowered, slowly getting closer, lips stopping just before touching Yan Yibing’s ear.

“Master, since you’re running a fever now, without strength, and usually dislike exercising, you definitely can’t beat me. I’ve taken your phone and put it in the living room. There’s no one else in the house, so now I can do whatever I want. No one can save you. If you don’t eat, I’ll feed you with my mouth. By then, apart from crying and swallowing, you won’t be able to do anything.”

His voice was deep and breathy, the throat producing a magnetic melody that flowed into Yan Yibing’s cochlea.

Shallow breaths brushed against the sensitive skin of his ear, causing Yan Yibing to subconsciously tense his shoulders.

He had no choice but to angrily lift his head from the pillow, his disheveled hair framing his face. He glared with reddened eyes, gritting his teeth.

He believed that Han Mo would actually do it.

In the corner of the hospital lobby, Han Mo dared to pull off his mask and kiss him.

Seeing that Yan Yibing had revealed his face, Han Mo calmly picked up a bowl, scooped a bit of dumpling soup with a spoon, and fed it to Yan Yibing’s lips.

Yan Yibing paused for a moment. As his lips touched the soft and glutinous soup, he caught a faint fragrance between his nostrils.

He could guess that Han Mo’s cooking skills weren’t bad. After all, during the time when no one was around to take care of him, Han Mo had to rely on himself.

The dumpling soup wasn’t greasy. It had a bit of soy sauce, some tomatoes, and scattered bits of eggflower floating on the surface. Sparse green onions adorned the dish with delicate colors.

The dumplings had been kneaded as fine as possible, but due to limited time and Han Mo’s eagerness for him to eat, some pieces were a bit larger.

Yet Han Mo only scooped the ones easy to chew.

Yan Yibing slightly lifted his neck, opened his mouth with difficulty, frowned, and whispered, “It hurts.”

The muscles for biting wouldn’t cooperate, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t open his mouth comfortably. His teeth felt uncomfortable when he exerted force.

Patiently, Han Mo coaxed him, “You still need to eat something, I’ll make something easier to swallow for you tomorrow.”

Yan Yibing lowered his eyes and fell silent.

Quietly, he took the spoon and sipped the dumpling soup.

He chewed it a few times in his mouth before swallowing it down in one gulp.

His stomach felt warm and comfortable.

Although he had a fever, it affected his salivary glands, and his stomach still needed nourishment.

Han Mo patiently fed him more than half of the bowl, and Yan Yibing’s pain seemed to dull a bit. He lay heavily on the pillow, and blinked, watching Han Mo naturally finish the remaining portion.

That was something he had eaten.

Feeling uneasy, Yan Yibing averted his gaze, running his tongue around his mouth.

He seemed to have gained a deeper understanding of how much Han Mo liked him.

What should he do now?

It seemed impossible to undo it.

Han Mo brought over warm water again, fearing he might choke. He propped Yan Yibing up against his back and urged him, “Take your medicine.”

He squeezed three fever-reducing pills and fed them to Yan Yibing’s lips.

Yan Yibing frowned, picked up the capsule, put it in his mouth, and swallowed it with water.

He rinsed his mouth several times, completely getting rid of the taste of the dumpling soup.

Lastly, Han Mo took out the thermometer and fiddled with it.

Although thermometers are now mostly used in public places, thermometers are still more common in homes.

But Han Mo’s house didn’t have this gadget.

Han Mo rarely got sick since childhood. It seemed like his body knew that falling sick would make the family situation even more difficult. To keep him strong and resilient, his cells worked extra hard.

Han Mo held the thin thermometer between his fingers, glanced at the scale, and then looked at Yan Yibing, smiling teasingly, “Time to check the temperature. For this thing, where do you usually put it among these three places?”

Yan Yibing looked at him strangely and reached out with his slender fingers, snatching the thermometer and tucking it under the blanket, wedged against his armpit.

Han Mo raised an eyebrow, feeling somewhat disappointed.

Indeed, the most common is under the armpit.

While Yan Yibing measured his temperature, Han Mo took the bowl downstairs, washed it, then took Yan Yibing’s towel and fetched a basin of cool water.

He soaked the towel, wrung it out, and placed it on Yan Yibing’s forehead.

After five minutes, he nudged Yan Yibing, who took out the thermometer, squinting to read it.

Han Mo directly took it away, glanced at it, and said, “38.5 degrees.”

Yan Yibing breathed a sigh of relief, murmuring, “That’s okay.”

As long as it’s below 39 degrees, medications can control it.

Han Mo looked at him meaningfully, lightly saying, “You should know that under the armpit isn’t very accurate. If it was somewhere else, the temperature might be higher.”

Yan Yibing frowned, and blinked, “Somewhere else?”

He really lacked common sense in life and didn’t know what Han Mo was talking about.

Han Mo paused for a moment, cleared his throat, and then inconspicuously put the thermometer away, placing it beside Yan Yibing’s pillow.

He said in a warm tone, “It’s okay not to know now, I’ll teach you slowly in the future. It will be considered as repaying a favor in return.”

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Author’s Note:

Han Mo: Master, it’s more accurate if measured below. Want to try?

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