Chapter 70: He Has a Fever (Part 1)

The monstrous wave of turbulence stirred in Yu Ling's heart by Starlight Technology's absurd anniversary storm of a "bankruptcy acquisition" temporarily settled under Zhao Chen's intensely doting and soothing comfort.

The illusory gain and loss of one million in her account was replaced by the tangible sensation of "owning a company," leaving her with complicated and indescribable emotions. Yet, that deep-seated anxiety regarding the "dependency relationship" after the agreement expired did not truly dissipate. Instead, like a sunken reef hidden beneath the water, it pressed against her heart with a dull ache beneath the calm surface.

She needed a clearer signal. A signal proving that Zhao Chen's feelings for her were not merely "indulgence," but a genuine "need." Beneath his powerful, seemingly omnipotent wings, she yearned to find a trace of her own irreplaceable weight.

This opportunity arrived unannounced, in a way Yu Ling had never anticipated.

It was the dead of night, amidst a torrential downpour.

Startled awake by a rumble of thunder, Yu Ling lost all sleepiness. She sat up in bed, clutching a thin quilt, listening to the raging wind and rain outside the window, feeling an inexplicable unease.

When Zhao Chen left in the afternoon, he mentioned having an "important social engagement," and yet he still hadn't returned at this late hour. She picked up her phone, intending to send him a message, but hesitated, her fingertips hovering above the screen for fear of disturbing his business discussions.

Just then, the faint electronic sound of a door lock clicking open drifted from downstairs, sounding exceptionally frail against the backdrop of the wind and rain.

He was back!

A wave of relief washed over Yu Ling. She cast off the quilt, slid out of bed, and slipped into her slippers, walking swiftly out of the bedroom. Only a few dim hallway lights were on, casting a hazy glow. She walked over to the doorway and peered toward the entryway.

The entryway sensor light was on.

Zhao Chen was standing right there within that dim, yellowish halo.

He was drenched from head to toe. An expensive dark gray suit jacket hung crumpled over his arm, while the white dress shirt underneath clung tightly to his body, outlining a robust yet exhausted silhouette.

Rainwater continuously dripped from his wet black hair, striking the polished marble floor. The dark blue tie she had personally tied for him that morning was now crookedly yanked askew, hanging loosely around his neck, with the top two buttons roughly torn open.

With his head lowered, one hand braced against the entryway cabinet, he seemed to be struggling to steady himself. The posture that was usually as straight as a pine now unexpectedly revealed an unprecedented, almost fragile stoop. A heavy, damp chill permeated the air around him, mingling with a faint trace of alcohol diluted by the rain.

Yu Ling's heart clenched fiercely! She had never seen Zhao Chen like this! Disheveled, exhausted, and utterly dejected.

"Honey?" she tested tentatively, her voice echoing in the empty living room.

Zhao Chen's body seemed to stiffen for a moment. Slowly, extremely slowly, he raised his head.

His lips moved, as if he wanted to force a reassuring smile, but the effort only twitched the corners of his stiff mouth before finally collapsing into a bitter and powerless arc.

"... Lingling," his voice was terribly hoarse, as if his throat had been rubbed with sandpaper, laden with heavy exhaustion and a trace of imperceptible tremor, "did I wake you?"

Bracing himself against the cabinet, he tried to stand straight, but his footsteps wavered unsteadily.

Unable to hold back any longer, Yu Ling dashed forward, her slippers making a sharp pattering sound on the floor. Rushing to the entryway, heedless of the freezing rainwater soaking through him, she reached out and steadied his swaying arm.

Her fingertips brushed against the drenched fabric of his shirt, and the icy dampness instantly transferred to her skin, making her shiver. But what alarmed her even more was the subtle tremor of the muscle beneath the wet, cold cloth of his arm.

"How did you get so soaked?!" Yu Ling's voice carried a mix of heartache and lingering fear. "Where is the driver? Didn't you bring an umbrella?" she asked while trying to help him take off the heavy, wet jacket.

Zhao Chen let her take the lead, obediently lifting his arms. As the jacket was removed, it revealed the white shirt underneath, equally drenched and plastered to his skin, making his frame look all the more frail. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, his thick eyelashes casting small, weary shadows beneath his eyelids, his voice dropped low and ethereal, as if all his strength had been drained:

"The driver had an emergency at home and left early. I forgot my umbrella at the restaurant." He paused, his Adam's apple rolling with difficulty before he continued, his voice carrying a deliberate yet still betrayed heaviness, "The project... fell through. After three months of preparation, it was... it was snatched away by a competitor."

He uttered the final words with extreme difficulty, as if expending every ounce of his remaining strength. Lifting his amber eyes to look at Yu Ling, they no longer held the confidence of someone in total control; instead, they were veiled in a gray defeat and a touch of childlike helplessness.

"Lingling," he looked at her, his voice low and husky, tinged with a self-doubt so profound and near-subservient that Yu Ling had never heard it before, "am I... useless?"

Those words struck like an ice-tipped awl straight into the softest part of Yu Ling's heart!

Pain! A sharp agony instantly engulfed her!

The man before her, who usually seemed powerful enough to overturn the heavens, the man who had gifted her a company as casually as one might offer a piece of candy—right here, before her, had stripped away all his armor and pretense, baring his most vulnerable core. He had returned through a torrential downpour, not to elicit sympathy, but to expose his failure and fear within the safe harbor he believed she provided.

The deep anxiety regarding attachment and independence buried within Yu Ling's heart was instantly swept away by a fiercer, more primal emotion at the sound of his fragile question: "Am I useless?" It was heartache! An overwhelming, crushing tide of heartache!

She no longer cared about agreements, independence, or the future. At this moment, she only wanted to hold him, warm him, and tell him that in her heart, he was forever the best!

"What nonsense are you talking about!" Yu Ling's voice was laced with tears, her eyes instantly reddening. Wrapping her arms tightly around his cold, drenched body, she held him as if she wanted to impart every bit of her own body heat to him, "Don't you ever say that about yourself! You are the best! In my heart, you will always be the best Zhao Chen!"

Her embrace was warm and firm, carrying an unquestionable strength.

Held tightly in her arms, Zhao Chen stiffened for a single second before collapsing against her shoulder, as if he had finally found a point of support and shed every ounce of his weight. His warm breath brushed against the sensitive crook of Yu Ling's neck, laden with heavy dampness, the scent of alcohol, and... a scorching, unusual heat?

Yu Ling's heart tightened. Reaching out, she pressed the back of her hand against his forehead.

Blazing hot! Like a bed of burning coals!

"You have a fever!" Yu Ling gasped, her voice brimming with anxiety. "Quick! Go take a hot bath first and change out of these wet clothes!" Without waiting for an answer, she half-supported and half-carried him toward the guest bathroom.

Seeming truly delirious with fever, Zhao Chen obediently allowed himself to be guided into the bathroom. In a flurry of panic, Yu Ling adjusted the hot water, dashed back to the bedroom to grab a clean bathrobe and towel, shoved them inside, and instructed through the crack of the door: "Wash up quickly! Don't catch a cold! I'm going to make you some ginger tea!"

She rushed into the kitchen. Outside, the storm still raged, but a fire had been lit in her heart, leaving only a single thought—to take care of him!

Rummaging through the cabinets, she found an old piece of ginger, washed and sliced it with astonishing efficiency. Next, she fetched brown sugar and a stew pot. Tossing the ginger slices into cold water, she brought it to a rolling boil before turning the heat down to simmer slowly. The pungent aroma of ginger rose with the steam, filling the kitchen.

Hovering anxiously by the pot, her mind in disarray, she kept her ears pricked, closely monitoring any movement from the bathroom.

The sound of water stopped. After a short while, the bathroom door finally creaked open.

Zhao Chen emerged wearing a bulky white bathrobe, water still dripping from his wet hair. His complexion remained pale, but an unnatural flush stained his cheeks, his gaze hazy and his footsteps unsteady. Exhausting his final reserves of strength, he leaned against the wall and swayed toward the living room sofa.