Chapter 37

Chapter 37

"Then what about you? Did you cheat on the exams? What rank did you get?"

Qi Yanyu was not someone you could argue with. If he was in the mood to bicker, he would leave others seething but unable to retort.

"You're just like one of those small-minded upstarts who gloat over minor wins. Treating fakes as treasures—that’s probably only you." Qi Yuanhan eventually chose not to argue with Qi Yanyu anymore. Instead, he opened his calculator to tally how many subjects he had failed. He muttered bitterly that even though he scored in the 50s, the teacher could have cut him some slack—yet they didn’t.

Qi Yuanhan didn’t continue the argument, leaving Qi Yanyu’s frustration with no outlet. Sitting in the front row, Qi Yanyu wondered if Gu Jinglan was on the bus for Class 1 next to theirs, sitting with Xia Yiyi now.

He placed his backpack by his feet, fingers curling into empty fists, knuckles whitening in his palms.

It didn’t matter. His nails lightly dug into the flesh of his hand, quelling the ache in his chest. He told himself that ranking first was already good enough.

At the very least, Gu Jinglan must have seen that the top spot belonged to him, not to Gu.

Go ahead, keep dating then. Watch—he’ll still top the class by the end of the semester.

He wasn’t sure what drove him—whether it was using studies to distract himself, wanting that person to notice him, or simply finding something to do. That was why he had worked so hard for the exams.

It was fine. He’d just drift through. Things were okay like this—at least he wouldn’t suffer the torment of the original storyline.

As he closed his eyes to rest, someone sat down beside him.

He assumed it was a classmate who couldn’t find a seat.

Leaning his head against the window, he tried to sleep early to avoid motion sickness.

Then, Qi Yuanhan’s voice, dripping with sarcasm, sounded beside him again: "Biochemistry, pathology, immunology—is it even possible to get full marks in these subjects?"

"Of course it’s possible," came an offhand reply. "Talent and effort—both are indispensable."

"Don’t you think there’s something fishy? How is it possible? If he’s so talented, why not go to the Chinese Academy of Sciences?" Qi Yuanhan’s words oozed envy.

"Maybe he wants to be a doctor, not a scientist."

That voice… the person speaking…

Qi Yanyu, who had been leaning against the seat with his eyes closed, snapped them open and turned to see that the person sitting next to him was none other than Gu Jinglan.

He was stunned. Wasn’t Gu Jinglan supposed to be with Xia Yiyi? Why wasn’t he on Class 1’s bus?

Gu Jinglan reclined against the seat, meeting Qi Yanyu’s bewildered gaze with an appraising glance. "Almost all perfect scores—how did you do it?"

"..."

Qi Yanyu’s pulse kicked up. His heart, which had been taut as a coiled spring, suddenly came alive, pounding fiercely. He played it cool but couldn’t resist a barbed remark: "Skip the socializing, add talent, and there you go."

Gu Jinglan caught the dig.

After boarding, he had taken out a bottle of water and handed it over. Qi Yanyu accepted it with false casualness, though sitting next to Gu Jinglan made him on edge. It was a strange feeling—he had sat beside Gu Jinglan in class a few times before.

But only a few times. Outside of lab sessions or assigned seating, Gu Jinglan rarely chose to sit with him. In Room 413, seating was a free-for-all, and sometimes he’d see Gu Jinglan sitting among Class 1, with Xia Yiyi beside him.

Maybe there was a rule that students could only board their own class’s bus.

*"...the same type as Qi Yuanhan"*—he couldn’t help but want to talk to Gu Jinglan: "Why did you do so poorly?" The words came out sharp and cutting. He cared about others and wanted their attention but refused to show it. To Gu Jinglan, he was probably just that.

In truth, Gu Jinglan’s second-place score wasn’t bad at all—he was a solid hundred points clear of the third-ranked student in their major. But he was comparing himself to Qi Yanyu, who had nailed nearly perfect scores.

Qi Yanyu had put in tremendous effort, all with the sole purpose of knocking Gu Jinglan off the top spot.

Driven by this vengeful resolve, he dedicated every moment to not only achieving perfect grades but also gunning for perfect scores in every exam.

Hearing the other's provocation, Gu Jinglan remained unfazed, smiling faintly. "Finals will tell a different story."

He lifted his gaze to meet Qi Yanyu's, his tone mild yet probing. "You’ve been grinding, huh? How many hours?"

Gu Jinglan wasn’t the type to back down when provoked.

"‘Pure talent,’ Qi Yanyu thought smugly. Keep practicing, keep chasing Xia Yiyi, keep playing lovebirds—did he actually think he’d stay #1?" In his dreams.

Perhaps this was the only way Qi Yanyu could think of to retaliate against Gu Jinglan and Xia Yiyi’s relationship.

Though the impact might not have been as devastating as he imagined, it still gave Qi Yanyu a sense of satisfaction.

Meanwhile, Qi Yuanhan kept badgering people about midterm weightage. He didn’t want a single midterm to ruin an entire course.

Generally, their overall grades were calculated based on class participation, attendance, and final exam results. However, bombing the final meant an instant fail for the course, requiring either a retake or a makeup exam.

Retaking a course meant suffering through it all over again, adding to the already overwhelming workload of medical students.

Qi Yuanhan was currently retaking a course from his freshman year, and with his schedule already packed, the thought of failing multiple midterms had him ready to yeet himself off the sci-building.

Gu Jinglan was clueless about retakes, making Qi Yuanhan’s complaints irrelevant to him.

Huang Shaoze had never failed a course either, leaving Qi Yuanhan stranded, wishing he could sit in the back and wallow with the flunkies.

Huang Shaoze sat by the window, separated from Qi Yuanhan and Gu Jinglan by the aisle, and asked Qi Yanyu about some questions he swore were designed to murder grades—questions from immunology, internal medicine, surgery, and diagnostics that demanded next-level med-student wizardry to score full marks.

Since Huang Shaoze was polite, Qi Yanyu answered a few questions he could recall, speaking casually.

Gu Jinglan listened as Qi Yanyu breezed through every exam question, even those far beyond their sophomore level, breaking them down like an attending physician. Given that Qi Yanyu had interned at his family’s hospital in his teens, Gu Jinglan suspected he was secretly a repeat senior.

Occasionally, Gu Jinglan interjected with questions about attending-level tricks no textbook teaches.

Qi Yanyu, who was carsick, had only intended to answer Huang Shaoze briefly before sleeping.

But since Gu Jinglan kept asking, he fought down puke to toss out quick answers.

Qi Yuanhan, on the other hand, had flubbed the fundamentals. If he had spent his nightly gaming hours reviewing, he might not have crashed and burned so hard.

As a result, he was utterly lost in the conversation between the other three—or more accurately, between Gu Jinglan and Qi Yanyu.

Gu Jinglan realized just how Qi Yanyu aced every topic blindfolded—some of his answers couldn’t possibly have come from textbooks alone.

"Can you maintain these scores in the finals?" Gu Jinglan asked, seeing how effortlessly Qi Yanyu handled every subject. If he wanted to reclaim first place, he’d need perfect marks across the board.

Qi Yanyu didn’t understand Gu Jinglan’s implication. Smirking, he replied, "What’s the matter? Can’t hack it?"

Gu Jinglan chuckled. "Game on."

Finally, Gu Jinglan stopped engaging with him.

Qi Yanyu’s gut lurched, worsened by the bus’s overly cold air conditioning. He clutched his sleeves, hunching against the chill.

Closing his eyes, he willowed himself into sleep as soon as possible.

Their tour bus driver was on the lower level, while the first row in front of them had railings and glass, offering a great view of the scenery ahead.

However, after exiting the highway, the bus turned onto a winding mountain road, jostling Qi Yanyu’s stomach so much he was on the verge of throwing up.

Gu Jinglan chatted with Qi Yuanhan about retaking exams and retake classes before shifting to basketball games. The bus had grown much quieter, with most passengers either resting or listening to music due to the long journey.

Qi Yuanhan pulled up his hoodie, hunched into his seat, and tried to steady himself after failing nine classes by watching an NBA replay.

Gu Jinglan looked over and saw the person huddled up, brows furrowed, eyes closed, face pale, hands buried in his sleeves.

The air conditioning in the tour bus couldn’t be adjusted—only the overhead vents could be slightly turned. He reached up and tilted the vent to face outward.

He couldn’t tell whether it was chest pain or carsickness.

Gu Jinglan naturally reached for his left hand, really just checking for finger stiffness, though it might not necessarily help with diagnosis.

Qi Yanyu was so unwell he couldn’t tell if it was his imagination or a dream in his dizzy, carsick haze—someone holding his hand.

The hand was broad and warm, with a high body temperature, like clutching a burning coal in the snow, making him desperately hold on.

The moment Gu Jinglan touched his left hand, the other gripped it tightly, making him look over. The person’s brows were still furrowed.

He considered pulling away, but the other’s hand was icy cold.

Gu Jinglan wasn’t tired, so he let him hold his hand for warmth while using his free hand to pull out his phone and watch a surgery demo video. Soon, the person beside him began tilting his head, eventually resting it on his shoulder.

"…" He shifted his gaze to the dozing figure beside him and, realizing it wasn’t intentional, let him stay.

Gu Jinglan stayed still, afraid Qi Yanyu’s head might slip off his shoulder.

He must’ve been miserable. Otherwise, why would he be so weak and breathless?

The surgery demo on his screen flickered into an image of Qi Yanyu wired to heart monitors and an oxygen mask.

Gu Jinglan gave a cold blink, and the illusion vanished, replaced once more by the surgery video.

Staying away from this person would be for his own good.

His screen went dark—the previous video had ended, and his phone had locked from inactivity.

He wanted to shift his stiff limbs but remembered Qi Yanyu was still leaning on his shoulder.

The trip lasted four hours, during which Qi Yanyu woke up once.

He had never been on such a winding mountain road before—being awake alone made him queasy.

Most passengers were asleep, the outside sky dark, occasionally lit by passing rural restaurants’ lights, followed by shrubs and trees whipping past.

Occasionally, the red taillights of other cars flashed dimly.

He wasn’t sure how much longer the journey would take. His phone was in his bag, and he tried to sit up slightly, his back sore from sitting too long.

Then he realized he was holding Gu Jinglan’s hand. Shocked, he quickly lifted his head and saw Gu Jinglan asleep in his seat.

Gu Jinglan’s head was slightly tilted—not toward the aisle but just a fraction toward him—resting against the back of the seat, eyes closed, his face ice-cold and still.

Though he sat upright, Qi Yanyu could tell from his even, barely-there breathing that he was asleep.

His hand still hadn’t let go of Gu Jinglan’s, and Gu Jinglan’s hand was also holding his.

Gu Jinglan's hands looked like they were made for holding a scalpel—his fingers were long, well-proportioned, and elegant. His skin was smooth, almost too delicate for a man’s hands. Perhaps these hands could also play the piano.

Qi Yanyu held his breath, lowering his gaze to keep staring at their joined hands.

Rather than saying he was the one holding the other, it was more accurate to say Gu Jinglan was holding his hand back.

Gu Jinglan's left hand enveloped the bones of Qi Yanyu's left fingers, their palms half-joined. His fingers curled reflexively into the center of Qi Yanyu's palm.

Qi Yanyu wanted to return the grip, but he feared waking the other man. He glanced again at Gu Jinglan, who sat beside him with closed eyes, deep in sleep.

He had no idea how he’d ended up holding Gu Jinglan’s hand in his sleep. Did he grab Gu Jinglan’s hand while he was asleep? It was warm, so he kept holding on.

Xia Yiyi must have held this hand too—except she could do so openly, whether he was awake or not. Qi Yanyu, on the other hand, could only sneakily hold it while Gu Jinglan remained unaware.

His nausea had faded a little, but his stomach still churned uncomfortably.

Closing his eyes again, he focused on the warmth of Gu Jinglan’s hand, giving it a light squeeze before straightening his head against the seat. Soon, drowsy from the warmth and leftover queasiness, he drifted back to sleep.

His head inevitably tilted once more, resting against Gu Jinglan’s shoulder.

Unaware, Gu Jinglan simply slept on through the bus’s jostling, leaning against Qi Yanyu in turn.

With about ten minutes left until their destination, the bus grew lively again.

Qi Yuanhan, assuming everyone was awake, exclaimed excitedly, "Tonight, let’s all gather in my room for beer—we’re drinking till we drop!"

But no one from the neighboring seats responded. Leaning out of his seat, he saw Qi Yanyu’s head slumped against Gu Jinglan’s shoulder, while Gu Jinglan—now awake—was watching a surgical video on his iPad.

"What’s his problem?" Qi Yuanhan muttered under his breath, unable to hide his disdain as he spoke quietly to Gu Jinglan.

Gu Jinglan didn’t bother responding, having figured out how to shift without waking Qi Yanyu, even as his left shoulder grew stiff and numb.

Qi Yuanhan knew Gu Jinglan was weirdly patient with Room 413, which was probably why he hadn’t pushed Qi Yanyu away despite the discomfort.

As the bus grew noisier, Qi Yanyu finally stirred awake, his face ghostly white.

The bus pulled up to the homestay, and the students chattered excitedly as they disembarked, louder than a pack of hyped-up grade-schoolers.

The so-called homestay was just a converted house, divided into rooms. Class monitor Wang Mingchen had assigned rooms based on dorm numbers—two to a room, with some lucky pairs getting twin beds while others had to share a double.

Once they got their keys, everyone headed upstairs to drop off their luggage before gathering in the courtyard for a barbecue.

Qi Yanyu and Gu Jinglan were assigned to the same room. Qi Yanyu guessed Gu Jinglan would swap with someone tonight to end up sharing a room with Xia Yiyi.

Staggering, Qi Yanyu clutched his backpack stuffed with perfume and gripped the railing as he climbed to the fourth floor—Room 409.

Gu Jinglan watched his shaky steps. "Heart bothering you again?"

Only when no one else was around would Gu Jinglan mention his condition.

"Yeah, dying," Qi Yanyu replied flatly, too drained to care.

Gu Jinglan ignored it, unlocking the door and flicking on the light. Qi Yanyu staggered inside and face-planted onto the bed, legs still dangling off the edge. Motionless, he felt utterly wretched. What kind of hellish road was that? His stomach had lurched so violently he’d nearly vomited multiple times. The world still spun as if he’d been tumbled in a washing machine for days.

Then Gu Jinglan noticed a problem—this wasn’t a twin room but a double. Meaning, they’d probably have to share the bed.

Gu Jinglan dropped his backpack and checked out the bathroom, which had a water heater that heated up fast. Hot water was ready in just a few minutes.

He looked over the room next. It was bare-bones—no TV, just a bed, a chair, and a wall-mounted desk, no legs. There was a shower stall, a small wardrobe with only a few hangers, and a drawer containing a hairdryer and an electric kettle.

Gu Jinglan washed the electric kettle several times, boiled water and discarded it, then boiled another pot. He grabbed Qi Yanyu’s backpack off the floor and placed it on the chair.

The guy was still sprawled face-down on the bed. Gu Jinglan sat beside him, tilted him to check his face and lips.

He’d done the same to Qi Yanyu in the dorm before, so Qi Yanyu wasn’t unfamiliar with it. Eyes shut, he fought back nausea and muttered faintly, "My heart doesn’t hurt..."

"What about asthma?"

Though his breathing wasn’t particularly labored, Gu Jinglan still asked—what if his roommate croaked right here?

"Can’t you tell just by looking?" Qi Yanyu felt like vomiting, so dizzy his knuckles went white from clenching.

"If it were that easy, hospitals wouldn’t need all those fancy diagnostic machines."

Gu Jinglan rolled him onto his side and habitually freed his left arm, which he usually slept face-down, trapping under him—to check if his fingers were stiff or numb.

His fingers weren’t locked up too bad to straighten. Gu Jinglan then studied his face again.

"Spit it out," Gu Jinglan said, unsure of his condition. If he knew, he could find the right medicine for him.

Qi Yanyu wondered if he’d had too high an opinion of Gu Jinglan before, missing how much he acted like his big brother Qi Muyao—just as bossy.

But he also kind of enjoyed being fussed over like this—maybe the carsickness fried his brain.

No brain, no shame.

"I’m dizzy," he admitted honestly for the first time, voluntarily stating his symptoms.

"Why are you dizzy?" Gu Jinglan’s voice softened a little, and he watched where Qi Yanyu’s hands clutched to identify the source of pain.

"I... I’m carsick."

"Oh." So it was motion sickness. Gu Jinglan noticed his hand pressing against his stomach. "There’s a BBQ going downstairs. Crash for a while, then grab some food—it’ll help."

Qi Yanyu mumbled, muddled, "No." He had actually eaten but couldn’t recall at the moment.

"They’re barbecuing downstairs. Lie down for a bit, then go eat something—you’ll feel less dizzy." Gu Jinglan observed him, now lying on his back after being turned over.

"Bring some up for me," Qi Yanyu demanded, muddle-headed.

"..." Gu Jinglan thought to himself—this guy really was a pampered brat. "Go downstairs and eat yourself."

No heart pain, no asthma attack. Just motion sickness. A little rest, and he could join the group activity downstairs. More socializing with classmates might even make him less sharp-tongued.

The guy furrowed his brows. "I feel like throwing up."

Young master. Those were the only words in Gu Jinglan’s mind. Seeing him half-dead and fearing he might actually vomit, Gu Jinglan figured he could at least help him to the bathroom—better than having to abandon the bed tonight.

"I really feel sick... so dizzy..."

Taking in his pitiful state, Gu Jinglan "helped" him up—half hauling, half propping him up—and brought him to the sink in the bathroom.

Qi Yanyu began retching, but having eaten little at lunch, nothing came up.

Only a thin strand of saliva clung to the corner of his lips and chin like a spider’s thread.

"I can't throw up, but my stomach..."

The rest was mumbled too incoherently for Gu Jinglan to make out. He turned on the faucet, splashed some water, and let it drip onto Qi Yanyu's face, still buried in the sink.

Qi Yanyu dry-heaved a few more times, his legs giving out despite his hands gripping the edge of the sink.

Gu Jinglan swiftly caught him, half-holding him from behind, glancing down at his pale, sickly profile as he struggled to vomit. "Gargle first, then try," he said—maybe then he’d actually throw up.

Qi Yanyu tilted his head slightly, his faintly pink tongue lapping weakly at the stream like a kitten.

He wasn’t gargling—more like taking tiny sips.

A few droplets splashed onto Gu Jinglan’s hand, still steadying Qi Yanyu’s shoulder. Watching him slowly swish the water before spitting it out with a frown, Gu Jinglan listened to his whiny groan: "Can’t throw up..."

"If nothing comes up, your stomach’s empty." Gu Jinglan said coolly, eyeing this entitled brat. "Go eat. Then try."

Honestly, Gu Jinglan wouldn’t mind dragging out this pitiful display a bit longer.

Outside of moments like this, Qi Yanyu’s face was always all high-and-mighty.

It’d be best if this spoiled prince showed more of his needy, dramatic side in front of him.

Otherwise, Gu Jinglan might stew over it—especially when Qi Yanyu effortlessly snatched the top rank in their major, flaunting his straight A’s with that smirk.

No matter how composed Gu Jinglan pretended to be, he still wanted to see more of this—how Qi Yanyu, usually so prissy about germs, would turn into a clingy mess the moment he felt unwell behind closed doors.

"Get up."

Qi Yanyu was like a ragdoll, sliding toward the floor like his legs didn’t exist.

"I feel awful..."

The nausea was a hundred times worse than his heart acting up, leaving him as helpless as if he’d been strapped to a tilt-a-whirl with no way off until he begged for mercy.

"What’s camping in the bathroom gonna do?"

"I can’t throw up..." Just a little would make him feel better—why couldn’t he?

Gu Jinglan watched as Qi Yanyu, usually so fastidious about cleanliness, now seemed ready to collapse onto any available surface.

Unable to stop him from sinking to the floor, Gu Jinglan’s patience thinned before scooping him up. He carried him back to the bed, letting him slump over the edge—if he had to vomit, at least it’d hit the floor instead of the sheets.

"I want water..."

The prince couldn’t be bothered to lift a hand, expecting to be served.

Gu Jinglan hauled him upright, Qi Yanyu leaning limply against him like overcooked noodles.

Holding the cup to Qi Yanyu’s lips, Gu Jinglan let him take a sip—only for Qi Yanyu to immediately whine, "Too hot."

Trying to burn his tongue off? Qi Yanyu frowned, mumbling in discomfort.

Gu Jinglan snorted. He knew Qi Yanyu wasn’t faking—he probably needed his water at baby-bottle temperature.

Setting Qi Yanyu back down, Gu Jinglan adjusted the temperature, then lifted him again. Qi Yanyu melded into his shoulder as Gu Jinglan tilted the cup to his lips.

Qi Yanyu’s voice was barely audible. "...cake."

They were in the mountains at a farmhouse, out in the sticks—so who was going to make him a cake?

“There's barbecue downstairs.”

“I want a small cake…”

Gu Jinglan looked at him, thinking he might be out of it, but his body temperature was normal. “Take another sip.”

But when asked to drink water, he would barely wet his lips. He repeated, “I’m hungry, I just want a bite of cake…”

Did the people around Qi Yanyu get so fed up babysitting him?

Gu Jinglan said, “There’s no cake.”

“I want cake…”

His stomach was teetering on the edge of puking—what’s the big deal about craving something sweet?

“How did you manage to score full marks, huh?” He hauled up the guy sliding off the bed, keeping him slightly upright against himself. How could someone who was a train wreck at adulting score nearly perfect marks in over a dozen subjects?

“Anyone with hands could do it…”

Even when feeling like death, he kept his pride intact.

He’d never admit that he had stayed up for two weeks straight, grinding through every subject, even memorizing details and tricky parts while eating and dreaming.

“Can you still get full marks this semester?”

“Like it’s rocket science?” It was a conditioned reflex—whenever someone challenged him, Qi Yanyu would respond with a mocking smile.

“Then pay you to take my tests. I’ll hire you as a proxy.” Gu Jinglan laughed. He could score full marks too, but he didn’t see the need.

Who would’ve thought that this guy’s perfect scores might just be his way of one-upping him?

“Still dizzy?”

“Dizzy…” The other man still had his face all pinched, eyes closed, whining under his breath.

“If you're not that dizzy, go downstairs for barbecue.”

“What’s your relationship with Xia Yiyi?” Finally, Qi Yanyu’s head cleared just enough amid the dizziness. But not entirely—he instantly wished he could swallow the words.

Luckily, the other man’s phone rang—Room 413 was blowing up his phone to come down for barbecue.

Now that the words were out, Qi Yanyu’s dizziness faded, but he still sat on the edge of the bed, extremely uncomfortable.

The thought of Xia Yiyi made most of his vertigo disappear.

His stomach churned, his heart skipped weirdly. His left hand slowly flexed as he heard Gu Jinglan ask, “Coming downstairs?”

He just shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll go in a bit.”

The man wasn’t dizzy anymore, nor was he playing the diva. Maybe he needed to change clothes or use the bathroom, so Gu Jinglan left the room.

Later, Qi Yanyu went downstairs and scored a few bites. Classes 1 and 2 were barbecuing together, staying in two family-owned cabins on the same property. Classes 3 and 4 were barbecuing at another location.

The boys were on grill duty, while some of the girls threaded meat on sticks or kept cups filled.

The first few batches let the girls go first, and Qi Yanyu managed to eat a little as well.

But when Qi Yanyu saw Xia Yiyi sitting by the barbecue next to Gu Jinglan, his gaze shifted away again.

He realized his stomach was still unsettled—the aftereffects of carsickness from the winding mountain road were really intense.

Not having eaten much, Qi Yanyu went back upstairs. Tonight, he might be the only one staying in Room 409, but so what?

He had already taken first place from that guy—that was already pretty good.

If he snatched the top spot again in the finals, that guy’s face would probably turn green with envy.

Acting like he didn’t care who was top of the class, yet he kept asking if Qi Yanyu would still get a perfect score in the finals.

Not only would he keep getting perfect scores, he’d make the gap between him and Gu Jinglan even more humiliating.

Maybe eating a little something to settle his stomach helped; vomiting a little made him feel much better afterward.

Qi Yanyu took out the perfumes from his backpack and spread them out on the bed.

Watching as all 31 bottles were taken out and arranged in a row.

Though still a bit dizzy, he was clearly in much better shape than when he was rambling incoherently earlier.

Twisting open the cap of one perfume, he held it at a safe distance, wafting the scent toward himself with his hand—enough to catch the fragrance without it being too overpowering.

What was this scent?

Even from that distance, the pungent, overpowering fruity aroma was unmistakable. It smelled a bit like frozen blackcurrant grapes—though he wasn’t sure if that was the right description.

Why was this perfume so strong?

Is this really the kind of perfume foreigners like?

With just a few waves of his hand, the entire room was filled with the scent of ice grapes, as if he’d stepped into a grape-processing plant.

Qi Yanyu closed that bottle and opened another—this one carried the scent of purple-and-white windflowers.

Windflower perfumes were supposed to be light and fresh, but this one was an overwhelming, dense bouquet of floral notes, with only a faint trace of actual windflower. It was so thick it felt like an overpowering potpourri.

Qi Yanyu scrunched his nose. Which bottle had Xia Yiyi been talking about? How could she possibly praise this…

It was too strong—so strong that Qi Yanyu had to keep each bottle at a safe distance when opening them for a cautious sniff.

There were scents like yogurt, sea salt, Hawaiian lemon, Japanese yuzu, and many more—followed by a slew of other weird, cloying scents he couldn’t even name.

With each opened bottle, the perfumes seemed to unleash thick, suffocating fumes, flooding his senses with their intensity.

Eventually, Qi Yanyu couldn’t distinguish any individual scents anymore—the room was an overwhelming jumble of scents, so thick it made him nauseous.

His nose felt fried. He sneezed violently, his eyes watering, while clusters of tiny red hives broke out on his hands and neck.

Qi Yanyu knew it was because the perfumes were too strong—he shouldn’t have opened so many at once for testing.

It felt hard to breathe. The room was drenched in floral and fruity smells, mixed into a nauseating fog that made him want to vomit.

Maybe from sniffing too many perfumes on an empty stomach, he broke into a sweat. He turned on the air conditioner, lowering it from 27°C to 26°C, then all the way down to 19°C.

Was it a perfume allergy? Qi Yanyu kept adjusting the AC, but his condition only worsened. Lightheaded from hunger, he collapsed onto the bed.

Even with the temperature set so low, he was burning up, sweating nonstop. Perhaps inhaling such intense, pungent scents had irritated his airways—he worried about straining his lungs, so he gasped with his face near the bed, trying to catch his breath.

For some reason, he was sweating profusely, his hair soaked, and his vision completely blurred.

In a daze, it felt like bees were sleeping in a cocoon of nectar, surrounded by cloyingly sweet floral scents that seeped into his mind and soul.

Qi Yanyu seemed to remember something. With great difficulty, he got up and picked up the butterfly perfume, wanting to check the label on the bottle. But accidentally, he spilled half of it on the floor. Now, it wasn’t just a nectar cocoon—it was like drowning in thick nectar.

Downstairs, there was barbecue—grilled meat, grilled fare.

Gu Jinglan saw Qi Yanyu come downstairs, but soon after, he disappeared again.

There was still plenty of fresh-off-the-grill food on the plate.

Xia Yiyi suggested, "We can share some with Class 34. Class 3 said they didn’t buy enough ingredients."

"But I heard Class 56 already gave them some. Let’s wait until our class has eaten enough before sharing with them," Gu Jinglan said, picking out the plainer skewers—those without too much cumin or chili powder—along with some grilled vegetables.

"Who are these for?" Xia Yiyi asked.

"The Young Master." Only he knew about Qi Yanyu’s condition. Aside from him, no one else could be Qi Yanyu’s most attentive caretaker.

Xia Yiyi laughed, thinking it was just a nickname for one of their dormmates.

He returned to Room 409, assuming Qi Yanyu wasn’t feeling well and hadn’t come downstairs to eat.

Upon entering, he saw the floor was soaked. Though Qi Yanyu had tried to wipe it up with tissues, the trash bin was full of wet wipes.

He lay half-collapsed by the bed, as if asleep.

Gu Jinglan set the food aside on the table and helped him up—a habitual gesture by now—checking his face, breathing, and lips.

He noticed, for some reason, fine beads of sweat had formed on his forehead.

His face had a peachy flush. Was he running a fever? Gu Jinglan pressed a hand to his forehead and found his temperature slightly higher than in the car, but still within the normal range.

"Not hungry?"

Qi Yanyu’s entire body was bonelessly limp, deep in sleep. It took several calls before his glassy, unfocused eyes finally opened, unclear whether it was sweat or tears or natural eye moisture.

He stared blankly at Gu Jinglan, lips slightly parted and noticeably flushed, saying nothing.

"I brought you some grilled meat—no offal."

He didn’t know who from their class or Class 1 had bought so much pork intestines, beef tripe, chicken gizzards, and other innards. Gu Jinglan knew this Young Master had a discerning palate, so he only brought the choice cuts—chicken wings, drumsticks, fresh beef and lamb, along with shrimp and squid. Pre-made items like artificial sausage links or fried fish snacks weren’t included.

Qi Yanyu’s hair was sweat-soaked, and even his undershirt was damp with perspiration.

His originally ivory-colored face had turned flushed, likely from overheating under the covers. His forehead glistened with sweat, and his gaze was feverish.

Yet he kept staring at Gu Jinglan. Those once pure, dark eyes now glistened, rimmed with red, as if from tears or fever.

"Get up and eat. Why are you looking at me?"

Gu Jinglan noticed a heavy perfume the moment he entered, but he assumed it would fade soon.

Yet the scent lingered, clinging and pervasive, filling the entire room.

Thinking Qi Yanyu was too weak to move, he gathered him close. When he helped him up, Qi Yanyu was completely drained—only his chest rose and fell visibly.

Mistaking it for a heart attack, Gu Jinglan panicked and reached for his left hand, only to find it resting against his own chest.

"What are you doing?"

Gu Jinglan recoiled in shock, releasing Qi Yanyu, who collapsed back onto the bed. He realized his own head was growing dizzy, his body burning with restless heat—perhaps it was too hot. He noticed the air conditioner had already been set to 16 degrees.

·······································································

They’d planned to go hiking the next morning and have breakfast downstairs at five, but Qi Yanyu couldn’t get out of bed.

Gu Jinglan packed food for him. Qi Yanyu’s complexion looked much better than the day before as he sipped plain congee in small mouthfuls. Not a word passed between them.

Wordlessly, they pretended nothing had happened.

Qi Yanyu sat on the bed, trying to peel a boiled egg, but his hands trembled slightly. Gu Jinglan noticed and peeled it neatly for him.

Truthfully, he didn’t even want the egg—he just needed something to do.

His whole body felt broken apart, aching everywhere. A faint bruise lingered on his wrist. Only after he had shattered the perfume bottle last night did he realize it wasn’t perfume at all—it was… an aphrodisiac.

"We’re going hiking later," Gu Jinglan said, worried he might get hungry. Since they were out in the sticks with no easy way to order food, he peeled his own egg too and gave it to Qi Yanyu to eat if he got hungry later in the morning.

"Do you really think I can hike like this…?" Qi Yanyu’s voice was weak, barely audible, like it had been dragged through water.

If someone accidentally ingested or inhaled such substances, they needed to drink plenty of water and take vitamin C to flush it out.

Qi Yanyu had already drunk a lot of water the night before, only to realize later that the perfume was the culprit. He threw all of it into the trash, then tried to open the window—but the homestay’s windows were fixed, allowing only a tiny gap.

He had thought, if Gu Jinglan didn’t return, if he stayed with Xia Yiyi, it might have been better.

He could have managed on his own. Under the covers, drenched in sweat, the more he tried to suppress it, the worse it became. The need crawled under his skin like fire ants, chewing at his bones. Even as he struggled to ease the relentless need, Gu Jinglan’s face kept appearing before him.

Goddamn it. That bottle of perfume Xia Yiyi had was homemade. And that online seller, seeing Qi Yanyu was loaded, had ordered a fancy glass bottle to fill with that illicit stuff.

Perfect. Just because he was an easy mark, right?

That seller had even lied, claiming it took five or six days to ship from Greece—probably just to buy time to custom-make the bottle.