Chapter 95

Chapter 95

Late at night,

Bo Tingyuan wiped Wen Cishu down with a warm towel and took a quick shower.

Returning to the bedside, Wen Cishu was already fast asleep, likely feeling a bit too warm, with one leg kicked out from under the blanket.

The black thigh band had been worn for a while, leaving a distinct red mark on the soft skin when Bo Tingyuan removed it, which still hadn’t faded.

He lifted the blanket and got into bed, gently massaging the visible mark with his palm.

“Mmm…” Wen Cishu murmured, turning toward him and resting a hand on his forearm.

Bo Tingyuan turned to pull the soft, warm body closer.

Though it was late, he felt no drowsiness—instead, he was unusually alert.

Leaning back against the pillow, he gazed at Wen Cishu in the dim light, tracing his calm expression, the straight nose, down to his soft lips—

The lower lip was slightly swollen.

Bo Tingyuan had lost control earlier, worried that deep kisses might suffocate him, so he had channeled his passion into kissing those lips instead.

Fortunately, all was well.

Leaning down, Bo Tingyuan kissed him tenderly, his dark green eyes still lingering with desire.

Yet, to his surprise, by sunrise, Wen Cishu began showing signs of discomfort.

Bo Tingyuan snapped awake, his instincts went on high alert as he felt the unnatural heat radiating from Wen Cishu’s body. He immediately asked the maid to bring a thermometer.

A check confirmed a low-grade fever.

Bo Tingyuan grabbed several fever patches, applying them to Wen Cishu’s forehead, nape, and chest—wherever the heat was most concentrated.

Then, holding a glass of warm water, he carefully helped him sip some water, murmuring, “Cishu?”

Wen Cishu’s cheeks were flushed a feverish red, his body rejecting the warmth of Bo Tingyuan’s chest as he weakly pushed away, murmuring, “Too hot…”

Bo Tingyuan could only lay him back down and instructed the housekeeper to summon Dr. Chen.

Having just recovered, Wen Cishu’s sudden fever had the whole household worried.

Dr. Chen arrived swiftly. After a preliminary examination, he confirmed it was only a low-grade fever.

Glancing at the eldest son of the Bo family, whose expression was tense with worry, the doctor hesitated, uncertain.

Before the doctor’s arrival, Bo Tingyuan had already dressed Wen Cishu in comfortable long sleeves.

But Dr. Chen was experienced—even without visible marks, he could guess the cause.

Seeing the doctor’s hesitation, Bo Tingyuan gestured for them to step out, leaving Aunt Zhong to look after Wen Cishu.

Aunt Zhong, being no stranger to such matters, knew exactly what was going on.

As she wiped the Second Master’s face with a warm towel, she thought to herself: *Maybe they ought to sleep separately for a while.*

Outside the door.

As a professional physician, Dr. Chen didn’t mince words and said straightforwardly, "Master Bao, you know Mr. Wen’s health situation well. In the future, you two should take it step by step—don’t push too hard."

Bao Tingyuan’s eyes behind his glasses were calm. "Understood. Thank you for the reminder."

"Of course."

Dr. Chen glanced toward the door. "After he takes the fever-reducing medicine, monitor him closely. I’ll come back this afternoon. It’s not severe right now, so please don’t worry too much."

Bao Tingyuan nodded in acknowledgment just as Uncle Xu approached, so he had him escort the doctor downstairs.

Then, he turned and returned to the room.

On the stairs, Uncle Xu frowned with concern. "Dr. Chen, how is our sir?"

"Oh, he might have caught a chill last night," Dr. Chen explained. "Mr. Wen’s health is a bit fragile, so he still needs lots of rest."

"Of course."

Uncle Xu didn’t think much of it and went on to ask about daily care.

Dr. Chen gave clear instructions before leaving.

As Uncle Xu returned to the living room, he thought to himself:

*Should we contact the young master at the farm?*

Just then, Aunt Zhong came downstairs and immediately said, "The young master said not to tell Yi Ming for now. Wait until he comes home on his own—he doesn’t want to worry him."

Uncle Xu nodded, understanding the situation.

He hurried to the kitchen to tell them to prepare breakfast.

Bedroom.

-

Under the combined effect of the fever patches and medicine, Wen Cishu gradually woke up.

He never expected to fall ill overnight. His eyes glazed with fever slowly shifted until they met Bao Tingyuan’s concerned eyes. "You—"

His raspy voice surprised them both.

"Don’t talk. Have some warm water first."

Bao Tingyuan held him and turned to grab the cup on the nightstand, carefully helping him take a few sips.

As the water went down, his throat burned slightly.

Wen Cishu frowned, turning his head away from the cup and shaking it lightly, gesturing for him to stop.

He had no idea why his throat was this sore. His fingertips brushed against it, and he let out a soft, "Ah—"

Bao Tingyuan gently covered his lips and kissed his temple. "A scratchy throat comes with a low fever. It’ll get better once the fever breaks."

Cradled in his tender embrace, Wen Cishu felt dazed, thinking—*Could it be from the sounds I made last night?*

And why this fever out of nowhere?!

He shut his eyes, miserable, swamped with shame and frustration.

Bao Tingyuan asked, "How are you feeling otherwise?"

"Otherwise?"

Wen Cishu murmured in response, his gaze meeting Bao Tingyuan's eyes.

His weak, raspy voice was heartbreaking to hear.

Bao Tingyuan gripped his hand and pressed it against his own neck, gently massaging it. "I checked you over yesterday and didn’t find any injuries, but I was worried I might have missed something."

"..."

Wen Cishu went quiet, his fever-flushed face burned even hotter, like it’d been lit on fire.

He slithered down like an eel, almost smothering himself under the covers, before finally rasping out a question, "What’d you do to me while I was out?"

His watery, red-rimmed eyes looked heartbreakingly vulnerable.

Bao Tingyuan leaned in to kiss him, about to speak, but Wen Cishu’s slender fingers pressed against his lips.

Wen Cishu: "Forget it, I don’t wanna know."

"Then sleep. No more talking."

Bao Tingyuan caressed his face. "I’m not going to the office today."

Wen Cishu had no words.

—Ugh, how did we get here?!

But he couldn’t sleep, his mind flooded with memories of last night’s intimacy, his skin buzzing as he fidgeted in Bao Tingyuan’s arms.

Bao Tingyuan hugged him over the blanket and asked, "Hurting like last time? Let me rub you down."

"You—" Wen Cishu started to say something but abruptly stopped. "Mm."

Whatever, let him. His legs and back were indeed aching.

Once the massage eased some of the ache, Wen Cishu remembered something else and looked up at him. "And the... stuff?"

Bao Tingyuan: "In the closet."

Wen Cishu was both shocked and embarrassed, turning his head to hide his chin under the blanket.

He *knew* what I meant?!

"You yesterday—ugh—"

He barely opened his mouth before Bao Tingyuan muffled him, leaving him to whimper pitifully.

Asshole, won’t even let me speak!

Bao Tingyuan frowned and warned, "Not till your throat’s better. Behave."

Wen Cishu thought to himself, *I’m not a kid—since when do I take orders?!*

Petulantly, he lifted his foot and lightly stepped on Bao Tingyuan’s instep, grinding his sole against it.

If he had the energy to be bratty, Bao Tingyuan relaxed a little.

-

After the auntie brought breakfast, Bao Tingyuan was about to feed Wen Cishu, even lifting the bowl, but Wen Cishu pushed himself up to lean against the pillows and rasped, "I can do it myself."

He kept his eyes down, not looking at Bao Tingyuan.

But Bao Tingyuan didn’t move.

Wen Cishu finally looked up.

Their gazes met, and Bao Tingyuan’s face turned stern.

Wen Cishu raised his hand, still gesturing that he’d feed himself.

To his surprise, Bao Tingyuan stood up, placed the bowl back on the table, and—unusually—pulled open a drawer to pull something out.

Wen Cishu frowned in confusion, but before he could react, Bao Tingyuan returned to the bedside and grasped both of his wrists.

As dark green satin ribbon coiled around his pale wrists, his eyes went wide.

Behind his glasses, Bao Tingyuan’s gaze remained fixed on his wrists, tying it carefully, almost tenderly.

Then, he picked up the bowl again and started feeding him, spoon after spoon.

Wen Cishu shot him a dark look, sipping grudgingly.

Who ties up a sick man?

Since when is that okay?

Midway through, he gave a pitiful look, and his slender fingers poked at Bao Tingyuan’s leg.

When Bao Tingyuan remained silent, his gaze turned icy.

Left with no choice, Wen Cishu parted his lips soundlessly, mouthing, "Daddy~"

Bao Tingyuan let him poke, pinch, and beg, unmoved as he fed him the remaining third of the congee.

Once Wen Cishu finally finished, he let out a loud huff and turned his body away.

But before he could settle, a pair of large hands pressed him back flat against the pillows.

He raised his bound hands, waving them at Bao Tingyuan in a silent demand to be freed.

The green ribbons spilled over his arms like fresh bamboo leaves resting on pristine snow.

Bao Tingyuan’s gaze lingered on him before he pressed a kiss to the tender skin of his wrist and murmured, "If your condition worsens, a doctor might need to examine other areas."

Wen Cishu: "..."

He went still, all fight draining out of him.