DSYOM Chapter 22

The moment the warm breath hit his cheek, Wen Di’s brain trembled no less than a supernova explosion.

Bian Cheng’s hands were as cool as his lips, and they felt very comfortable when pressed against his flushed skin. This kiss was gentle, steady, and exploratory, as if he wanted to study the texture of his mouth. The tip of the tongue probed, touched, and delved slowly on the lips.

He closed his eyes, feeling the heat of another person. His heart pounded violently in his chest, as if his skin and bones had melted away, leaving him naked.

His fingers climbed up the firm forearm and the smooth fabric wrinkled in his palm. His breathing gradually quickened, entwining with the trembling heartbeat, like flames merging in the night sky.

Then, the cool touch suddenly disappeared.

He opened his eyes, slightly lifted his head, and the person in front looked at him with a deep gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

Bian Cheng raised his hand, his broad palm covering his forehead. He stood motionless in place. After a few seconds, the hand was removed.

The scene before him flickered, heat climbing up his cheeks, and his mind felt like it was boiling again.

Bian Cheng observed his complexion and said, “You seem to have a fever.”

In an instant, the boiling water suddenly dropped to freezing point, making a cracking sound as if it suddenly condensed.

“I don’t.” Wen Di said firmly.

“Your forehead is very hot.”

“My body temperature is naturally higher than normal people,” Wen Di said, “This is my healthy temperature.”

“If you always have this temperature, your brain cells would have mostly died already.”

Wen Di changed his tone: “It’s a temporary rise in temperature; I’ll be fine after sweating a bit, just need to do some exercise that makes me sweat.”

“Let’s take your temperature,” Bian Cheng unlocked his phone, “I’ll check if there’s a nearby pharmacy and order some medicine.”

All the cells in Wen Di’s body seemed to wail. They were two adults who had just kissed in the hotel! This silicon-based life form actually took the initiative to kiss him! Such a rare event, more unlikely than a black hole collision, a once-in-a-lifetime chance—could it really end in failure?!

“No one took the order,” Bian Cheng didn’t notice his incredulous look at all and put away his phone. “I’ll go buy some, and bring back some medicine.”

Indeed, there really was someone who could dribble to the doorstep, stop at the last moment, and turn around to leave.

While walking away, he said, “You should go lie down on the bed for a while.”

Wen Di asked, “Are you coming over?”

The expression on the other person’s face was as if he had lost his mind: “Lie down there.”

Wen Di looked at the person at the door with expectant eyes.

Bian Cheng turned back, reached out, grabbed his shoulder, and pushed him toward the bedroom.

He gripped Bian Cheng’s wrist, freezing in place: “Seriously, this suite costs at least five or six thousand a night. If we don’t use it properly, it’s two months’ salary wasted…”

Bian Cheng thought he was nagging, so he slightly twisted his upper arm, slipping out of Wen Di’s grip while bending slightly to scoop him up by the knees.

Before he could finish his sentence, Wen Di was suddenly attacked and felt a bit dazed. Before he could react, he was thrown onto the bed with his back facing up. He tried to prop himself up, but his vision went black for a moment before he fell back down.

His head was indeed very dizzy, and his stomach was burning uncomfortably. Alright, he really did have a fever.

“I’ll be back in about twenty minutes,” Bian Cheng said.

Wen Di buried his head in the goose-down pillow and sighed deeply. The slightly cold hand turned him over and covered him with the blanket.

He really needed to go back and have his fortune told. Academic setbacks, a perverse advisor, a barren love life, even trying to sleep with a crush was full of twists and turns—this materialist warrior was about to switch to the Books of Changes.¹The I Ching or Yijing, usually translated Book of Changes or Classic of Changes, is an ancient Chinese divination text that is among the oldest of the Chinese classics. The I Ching was originally a divination manual in the Western Zhou period

The symptoms of adrenaline dropping and rising body temperature surfaced belatedly. He groggily hugged the pillow, his consciousness rolling in a haze. After an unknown amount of time, a familiar figure appeared in his field of vision, followed by a thermometer beeping on his forehead.

He woke up instantly.

“Thirty-eight degrees,” a voice said, “Fortunately, it’s not a high fever.”

Wen Di turned his head, his eyes filled with a mix of surprise and resentment.

Bian Cheng sat on the edge of the bed and tugged at his arm: “Get up and take your medicine.”

The person on the bed looked at him for a long while, then raised his hand. Bian Cheng handed the cup to him. The other person held it, swallowed the pills with gulps, and gave it back to him.

The antipyretic medicine was very effective. Within half an hour, Wen Di sweated all over, his fever subsided, his back felt slightly cool, and he felt much more relaxed.

The thermometer beeped again, showing that his temperature had temporarily dropped to normal.

Wen Di thought about whether to continue the physical contact, but his body felt alternately hot and cold, like a feather floating on water, and he probably couldn’t handle vigorous activity.

Damn resistance. It couldn’t even withstand the northern winds of the subtropical region.

He felt deep regret, while the person beside him added fuel to the fire: “You’re wearing so little; it would be strange if you don’t catch a cold.”

Wen Di’s eyes swept across like a sharp blade, but unfortunately it was harmless. The other person didn’t even notice his dissatisfaction.

“It’s all your fault,” Wen Di said. “You withheld my scarf and put my carotid artery under pressure, causing my immune system to suffer.”

Bian Cheng, inexplicably hit by the blame, didn’t argue that Wen Di, who was in suboptimal health, was unreasonable. He looked at the person on the bed and asked, “Still dizzy? Feeling clear-headed?”

Clear-headed enough to recite The Tempest backwards, cursing the heavens, his own weak constitution, and the blockhead in front of him.

Then Bian Cheng asked, “How did it feel just now?”

Wen Di was momentarily confused by his jumping thoughts and then realized that he was talking about the kiss.

Even investigating the satisfaction of the kiss technique?

He thought for a moment, then propped himself up and sat up and leaned closer to the person sitting by the bed: “I kind of forgot. Want to do it again?”

Bian Cheng stared at him, looking somewhat…disappointed? What was there to be disappointed about? He hadn’t given a bad review.

Wen Di was just about to add some praise for the gentle and delicate moves, but Bian Cheng stepped back a bit: “Forget it.”

The coldness of this rejection was even more biting than the northern winds of the subtropical region. Wen Di glared at him in dissatisfaction, got out of bed, walked into the living room, and brought in the bag with the bath bombs.

“What are you doing?” Bian Cheng asked.

“Taking a bath.”

The caretaker stood up and said, “Don’t joke around; you just got your fever down.”

“Don’t joke around, it’s a black granite bathtub with massage functions.” It was already bad enough that he couldn’t sleep with his crush on such a beautiful night—was he not even allowed to enjoy a bubble bath? How many times in his life could he experience a luxury massage bathtub?

They were already here, the money was already spent, and the bath bombs were bought. It would be an absolute waste if they were not going to soak in it.

Bian Cheng wore a disapproving expression.

“Isn’t this your birthday gift to me?” Wen Di said, “To truly enjoy the gifts given by others is the motto of our family.”

“What if you pass out in the bathtub?”

Wen Di squinted his eyes, staring at Bian Cheng, then suddenly smiled: “Aren’t you going to join me?” Sleeping together might be a bit much, but at least he could get some visual comfort by having him take off that suit.

“I prefer showers.”

“No way ah,” Wen Di said, “Just thinking about enjoying this happiness alone, every drop of water would weigh on my conscience…”

Bian Cheng didn’t take the bait: “If you really want to take a bath, go ahead. You don’t have to drag me in.”

Wen Di stared at the plastic bag in his hand. The bath bomb looked solid enough, so hitting someone with it would probably hurt a lot ba.

Seeing that he was still looking at the bath ball, Bian Cheng asked again, “Do you want me to run the water for you?”

Fortunately, he didn’t hold a shot put.

Wen Di’s eyes were burning, trying to burn his heartless and unromantic date with his gaze.

The other person turned without a care in the world and walked into the bathroom. Damn, this person really was going to run the water for him.

Wen Di was holding the bag, feeling extremely angry, and his nails left several crescent-shaped marks on his palms.

He tossed the bag onto the floor, unbuttoned his coat, placed it on the coat rack, and walked into the door on the right. The walk-in closet had a bathrobe hanging, and he took off his sweater and pants, draping the bathrobe over himself.

The sound of trickling water echoed in the bathroom, and the white Roman travertine on the walls was so bright it made one dizzy. Wen Di estimated the area and thought, rich people really do have too much time on their hands, what’s the point of making a bathroom this big? Can they take a stroll and exercise while using the toilet?

In the middle of the bathroom, a black bathtub emitted white mist, enveloping the person beside it. The room was warm, and Bian Cheng was only wearing a shirt and trousers, still looking formally out of place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and the tentacles of water vapor were winding and circling, hooking onto his wheat-colored forearms.

A slight buzzing sound returned to Wen Di’s head, similar to the dizziness caused by a fever.

Then the man across the room asked, “Why didn’t you bring the bath ball in?”

It’s not illegal to push someone into a bathtub, right?

Then, Bian Cheng turned around and walked past him. After a two-second pause, a box object was thrown to him from a distance, and he subconsciously caught it.

Bath ball.

Grinding his teeth for a moment, then tore open the packaging with a ripping sound and grabbed the bath balls, the poor little things nearly crumbling to powder under his hands.

He glared at the person across the room, tossing the bath balls one by one toward the faucet with unprecedented accuracy.

The water rushed over the bath balls, and foam quickly overflowed, joyfully filling the bathtub, floating up and down with the water’s surface. The white mist was wrapped with the sweet scent of cranberries, making people feel relaxed.

Wen Di watched the bubbles rise and fall in frustration, sitting on the edge of the bathtub with one leg submerged in the water.

The water was a bit too hot, causing a slight sting on his skin. He untied the bathrobe and jumped into the bathtub with a splash. The hot water surged from all directions, washing away the fatigue and tension of the day. The warmth seeped into his skin, relaxing his tight nerves and muscles.

There was a row of buttons next to the bathtub. Wen Di leaned over the granite edge, trying them one by one. Accompanied by a low hum, jets of water streamed out from the nozzles behind his waist, gently massaging his back and shoulders. Wen Di sighed in satisfaction and leaned back onto the bath pillow.

The bubbles, the fragrance, the water flow, the tranquility, it was exactly the scene he had imagined.

Given the chance, he could soak for twenty years.

Everything was supposed to be perfect. Perfect, except for that person outside. That guy was like a stick jabbing into perfection, making his chest feel tight.

After being in the heat for a while, he began to feel a bit uncomfortable. He raised his hand to touch his forehead, but because of the high water temperature, he couldn’t tell much.

Forget it, he better not test his body.

With the sound of the rushing water, he stood up. Blood roared to his brain and his consciousness teetered on the edge of a cliff. Dizziness slammed into him like a giant hammer….

His foot slipped, his body tilted, and he fell back into the bathtub.

Although he reacted quickly and braced himself with his hand, his knee still hit the edge. Before he could fully register it, a burning pain shot up along his kneecap. He hugged his knee, sucking in a sharp breath. A cry of pain escaped his lips.

What kind of terrible brand is this! So slippery!

“Are you okay?” the person outside the door asked.

Footsteps approached. Wen Di looked up, and from this angle, all he could see was Bian Cheng’s belt. The metal buckle reflected the warm yellow light, and the gunmetal-colored eagle logo flickered briefly before disappearing into the mist. Then, a towel was draped over his shoulders.

“It’s easy to catch a cold.” The tone was objective, similar to that of a doctor.

An arm wrapped around his waist, lifting him up. He was pressed against a firm chest as his damp hair flattened against the shirt, soaking a large part of it.

The pain in his knee gradually faded, but the roar in his head remained loud. Perhaps he felt embarrassed subconsciously and forced himself not to wake up, because if he woke up he would have to face the cruel reality.

Bian Cheng handed him a bathrobe and let go of his hand for a moment. He mechanically took it, putting it on over the towel, without really knowing what he was doing.

The shirt with water stains was swayng in front of him. The fabric was soaked with water and became translucent, revealing the lines of his chest muscles.

“Where did you hit yourself?” The chest vibrated subtly with the voice.

“I’m fine,” Wen Di said. “Your clothes are all wet, aren’t you going to change?”

From what he remembered, Professor didn’t bring any luggage with him. Maybe there were some extra robes in the closet, but if not, that would be even better.

Bian Cheng glanced at him before turning and walking into the bedroom. Wen Di checked his knee; there were no cuts or scratches, at worst, it would be bruised tomorrow. If it meant getting a handsome guy to break the ‘clothes barrier’, the fall was worth it.

Then, the figure returned, but there was no sign of a change of clothes, only the sound of the forehead thermometer beeping again.

Thirty-nine degrees.

The author has something to say:
Wen Di: It’s okay to have a fever twice, but it’s not okay to waste two thousand dollars.

T/N:  Anyway, Keeping the literal translation for the title but I’m pretty sure this is from King Lear, Act 4, Scene 1
GLOUCESTER
I have no way and therefore want no eyes.
I stumbled when I saw. Full oft ’tis seen our means secure us, and our mere defects Prove our commodities.
O dear son Edgar, the food of thy abusèd father’s wrath, might I but live to see thee in my touch,
I’d say I had eyes again.

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  The I Ching or Yijing, usually translated Book of Changes or Classic of Changes, is an ancient Chinese divination text that is among the oldest of the Chinese classics. The I Ching was originally a divination manual in the Western Zhou period