“Thirty-eight point four degrees Celsius1About 101°F for my non-Celsius friends.”
After being notified, the team doctor arrived within half an hour. Putting away the thermometer, the young doctor looked at the teenager before him, all wilted and listless, and asked, “Still feeling uncomfortable?”
“No, just dizzy and chilled, and I feel a bit weak, but that’s all.”
Zuo Tao sniffed, holding the ginger tea that Jiang Ming forced upon him despite his refusal. He couldn’t bear the spicy scent, eyebrows wrinkling into a 川.
“Does your throat hurt?” the doctor asked.
Zuo Tao shook his head.
Jiang Ming, standing guard beside him, asked, “Dr. Zhang, what do you say?”
“Let’s proceed with the infusion,” Dr. Zhang answered, putting his pen away and advising, “make sure to get rest and drink a lot of water. Young people generally recover faster, so there shouldn’t be any major issues.”
Jiang Ming followed the doctor through the base clinic, leaving Zuo Tao alone with his face still scrunched in worry.
He hasn’t had time to eat breakfast yet, and he can’t drink the ginger tea on an empty stomach.
Taking advantage of being alone, Zuo Tao looked around, trying to find a suitable place to throw the tea out.
“Stop looking.”
Song Shihan came into the room from outside. Zuo Tao looked up, seeing Song Shihan walking in with a beige thermos in hand. He sat beside Zuo Tao, taking the cup from his hand and exchanging it for the thermos.
“Eat this, it’s millet porridge the aunt just prepared.”
Zuo Tao held the thermos between his hands in a daze, asking, “What about the tea?”
Song Shihan didn’t really take it seriously. “If you don’t want to drink it, then don’t drink it.”
Although he was only in his early thirties, Jiang Ming was a firm believer that ginger tea was a cure-all for all sorts of illnesses. It wasn’t a big deal; ginger tea didn’t have any weird ingredients, after all. The problem was that Jiang Ming’s ginger tea was difficult to stomach. Others would at least brew it with some soda or brown sugar.
But Jiang Ming was different. He simply threw in whole pieces of ginger and boiled that. Even glancing at the pieces of ginger floating in the tea was enough to be lethal.
It was no wonder that Zuo Tao couldn’t drink it.
“But the coach told me to drink it,” Zuo Tao said, struggling to open the thermos cover, voice nasal from sickness. “He’s being tough about it.”
Song Shihan looked at him sideways. “Want to drink it after eating congee?”
Zuo Tao’s eyebrows furrowed again when he heard that. Even if he didn’t say anything, his face gave his reluctance away.
Song Shihan smiled. He swished the mug of ginger tea and said, “I’ll just tell Jiang-ge that it’s all the same after you get the infusion.”
Zuo Tao released a heartfelt breath of relief. Song Shihan had taken his phone out to read, and something came to mind. He scooted a little and said, “Captain, maybe you should just go upstairs. I might infect you.”
Song Shihan hadn’t mentioned anything about the events from last night, which relieved Zuo Tao’s anxiety somewhat; he was feeling a little more lively now.
“I’ll be fine. We’ll talk after your infusion,” Song Shihan said, not looking up from his phone. After a moment, he asked, “Can you push through for the game the day after tomorrow?”
Zuo Tao’s heart skipped a beat, and he sat up straight. He couldn’t even start on his congee. He answered, “Captain, I can do it. I won’t skip out!” Afraid that they would decide to bench him for the preliminaries, he continued: “I won’t skip on training, either!”
He knew that there were several more team training sessions for that afternoon. He glanced at the time and stood up, completely forgetting that he was still a patient waiting for an infusion.
“Sit down.” Not expecting a simple question to elicit such a big reaction, Song Shihan put his phone away and looked up at Zuo Tao helplessly. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t let you play. Besides, how are you even getting to the training room?”
At that moment, Dr. Zhang and Jiang Ming finally came back.
Zuo Tao had already started speaking, blurting out: “I can just hang the IV behind me!”
Jiang Ming was speechless.
Dr. Zhang fought the urge to laugh, joking, “Coach Jiang, your team’s support is quite good. He’s burning up but still hasn’t forgotten training. Physically disabled but still determined, this one.”
“Yeah, keep laughing,” Jiang Ming said, face twitching as he pressed Zuo Tao’s shoulder and urged him to sit back down, sighing, “My little ancestor, can you please not make a fuss? If I let you train while sick, Su Yueyao is going to charge and destroy my base immediately.”
Zuo Tao, hesitant, still apologized: “I’m sorry.”
After watching him get the needle, Song Shihan went to the training room to train. Jiang Ming stayed with him for about half an hour, when he was finally confident enough in Zuo Tao’s condition to leave him to handle the interviews scheduled for that afternoon.
Afraid he was going to delay their training, Zuo Tao increased the drip speed2Please don’t do this if you ever have to get an IV as soon as everyone left, sitting back on the chair and playing with his phone. Unable to resist his drowsiness, he took a nap.
When he woke up again, it was already half past 12, feeling someone poking his face. He opened his eyes irritably and saw someone bent over him, poking his cheek with a finger. He turned, planning on giving this person his opinion —
“Such soft skin, would you like to try?”
“What is it?” Zuo Tao asked unhappily, blocking Wang Qiu’s hand from approaching his face again. He felt like he was back in school, taking a nap between classes. He yawned, a threat instinctively falling from his lips: “How brave, I’ll chop your hand…” He snapped out of his daze, and he made a sharp turn with his words, sitting back down and saying, “Ah, it’s Qiu-ge.”
Wang Qiu was taken aback for a moment, but he was quick to laugh it off. “Oh, I didn’t expect our little solo fan to be so energetic upon waking.”
Zuo Tao smiled drily, his heart still racing in his chest.
Fortunately, Wang Qiu didn’t mind his gaff; he straightened up and said, “But we still need to train. Even though everyone was caught in the rain, you were the only one who got a fever.”
Zuo Tao was too embarrassed to admit that it was probably because he slept with wet clothes. Right now, his face was still flushed, but he was a little confused as to Wang Qiu’s new nickname for him. “What little solo fan?”
“You forgot?”
Wang Qiu brought his phone out, laughing mischievously, showing him a video to help him remember.
The online community wasn’t lying — indeed, it wasn’t getting drunk that was scary, it was someone helping you remember what happened after you sober up.
Among the background noise, he watched himself in the video, so stupid that he just wanted to lay down and die. Zuo Tao realized a terrifying thought. “You, you… sent that to the captain?”
Wang Qiu nodded, still laughing. “Yeah. Peach, you hid things so well. I used to think you were just a fan, but I didn’t expect your fan filter to be so thick. Last night, I thought you were just going to scream ‘FIRE’ everywhere with a loudspeaker.”
Zuo Tao didn’t answer. He collapsed into the chair, asking again, “Did you really send that to the captain?”
Wang Qiu: “Yep.”
Zuo Tao: …
So when Song Shihan came to pick them up last night, it was because of this video?
“Don’t pay him any mind, Zuo Tao. He’s used to acting crazy and doesn’t think of how he acts.” CAT came over with a cup of water. “Are you feeling better now?”
Zuo Tao nodded, and then he shook his head.
He felt that although he was still alive, he was already dead.
Something that was even worse than The White Shoes Incident had just emerged.
“What’s wrong with you?” Wang Qiu asked, surprised at the pained expression on Zuo Tao’s face.
Si Zheng guessed that it was probably a teengaer’s self-consciousness, so he slapped Wang Qiu hard on the back and vented anger on Zuo Tao’s behalf. “If you don’t kneel and apologize, do you really think that everyone’s as shameless as you are? If they take videos of people while they’re drunk, even dogs wouldn’t do what you did!”
Zuo Tao closed his eyes in despair. Of course he didn’t mind getting photographed if he was drunk. Anyway, he still looked good no matter when his pictures were taken. The issue was that the video made its way to Song Shihan.
God…
He’d been on tenterhooks for so long, trying to maintain his persona, but because of this video, he was back to square one.
Well, even if his tyrannical personality wasn’t exposed, being shown as an idiot wasn’t any better.
The IV finally ran out half an hour later.
Zuo Tao followed the other three with a drooping head, struggling with fate, thinking of ways to remedy the problem.
Wang Qiu was still apologizing. “I’m sorry, Taozi. Don’t worry, I didn’t send it to anyone else but the captain. I’ll delete everything, okay? Don’t be angry. I do crazy things sometimes, I’m so sorry.”
Zuo Tao waved him away, about to absolve him, but he caught something: “You have something else?”
Wang Qiu’s voice paused. “Ah…” he scratched his head. “Yeah, I took a picture.” He made up for it immediately: “But don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. I think it looks good, actually!” He opened his phone gallery and said, “It’s from when captain picked you up from the car. I saw it from a distance and thought it was interesting, so I took a picture.”
Zuo Tao lowered his head and glanced at Wang Qiu’s phone, his heart skipping a beat.
He had to admit that the photo was indeed taken well, even giving a strong vibe. Under the curtain of rain, Song Shihan’s white shirt was soaked. He was bent over as he lifted Zuo Tao from the car, hardly showing any sign of difficulty. His eyes were half-lidded, eyebrows appearing particularly cold under the scattered light from the car.
Wang Qiu was still apologizing. “I swear, I’ll delete it!”
“Wait,” Zuo Tao said, instinctively reaching out to stop him. He coughed lightly, feeling embarrassed. “Send me a copy of this photo, but delete your copy.”
There was nothing else to say about it. The photo was golden collectible.
He could even forgive Wang Qiu for sending that incriminating video to Song Shihan.
Wang Qiu: “Huh?”
Zuo Tao: “You can’t?” He tried to keep his tone level. “I’m involved in the photo. You should have sent it to me, right?”
Wang Qiu: “…right.” He still thought it was strange, but he still found Zuo Tao’s WeChat account to send it to. “You aren’t angry?”
“No, I’m just embarrassed.”
Zuo Tao, after receiving the photo, was very happy. The symptoms brought about by his fever seemed to have gotten better as a result. While saving the photo, he could even find it in himself to joke around. “You know, we solo fans are very conscious of our image in front of our idols.”
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