Chapter 33: Does Having A Fever Mean We Can’t Kiss?

At Junyue Hotel, in the top-floor suite.

Jiang Se only started to feel the humor in the situation when Lu Huaiyan brought over a bowl of freshly cooked noodles from the kitchenette.

She had originally planned to treat him to a bowl of longevity noodles as a belated birthday gift. Who would have thought that the restaurant was holding a wedding celebration, making it impossible to dine there? In the end, they left with a free bag of handmade noodles and had to cook for themselves.

At least they had left a red envelope as a congratulatory gift, so it wasn’t entirely a freebie.

The suite came with a fully equipped kitchen—pots, pans, oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar, everything one might need.

But naturally, Lu Huaiyan had never used it before.

Jiang Se, though unfamiliar with cooking, had observed Uncle Tong and Jiang Chuan in the kitchen before. She took out a pot, filled it with water, and unwrapped the red tape, preparing to drop the frozen noodles into the boiling water.

Before she could, Lu Huaiyan caught her wrist in time, taking the noodles from her hand. With an amused smirk, he asked, “Have you ever cooked noodles before?”

Jiang Se raised an eyebrow. “Have you?”

Lu Huaiyan replied, “I have. Go sit on the sofa and wait. I’ll cook.”

Jiang Se had never been passionate about cooking, so she complied and went to sit on the sofa. It was only then that she noticed a vinyl record player on the decorative table behind the couch.

The record player was in a vintage-style portable suitcase design, looking quite old. The last time she was here, there had been different decorative items in its place.

Beside the record player was a leather box for storing records. Jiang Se pulled out a record and glanced at it—it was a familiar one: Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey.

She pulled out another one—this one was even more familiar. Just a few days ago, she and Lu Huaiyan had listened to a song together over the phone.

Putting the records back, Jiang Se turned her head toward the kitchenette.

Above the counter, three white paper pendant lamps hung from the ceiling. The light filtered through the layered paper, casting a soft glow. The man’s dark eyelashes and high nose bridge were accentuated by the light, making his features appear even more striking.

In his hands, he held an enamel bowl just delivered by the butler, preparing the broth. Noticing her gaze, he lifted his eyes and glanced at her.

Jiang Se asked, “When did you bring this record player here?”

Lu Huaiyan’s lips curved into a subtle smile. “It flew here with me today. Guess what year this record player is from?”

She didn’t even need to guess.

“My birth year?” she answered.

“Mm.” Lu Huaiyan lifted the cooked noodles and placed them into the prepared broth, speaking in an unhurried tone. “I have another one, as old as I am. I left it in Beicheng, in the villa you used to stay in.”

After finishing, he picked up the bowl, looked at the girl sitting on the sofa, and gestured toward the small dining table by the window with a slight nod.

“Come over and have some noodles.”

The two sat down at the small dining table.

The night view of Tongcheng had a different charm compared to Beicheng.

Here, there was a certain silence that settled after the city’s bustle faded.

They shared a bowl of longevity noodles in the quiet of the night.

Lu Huaiyan picked up a portion of noodles with a dipping dish, scooped up a spoonful of broth, and slowly pushed it toward her. “Try a bite first.”

The local custom was that on one’s birthday, longevity noodles were meant to be shared. It had been the same on Jiang Yesheng’s birthday—everyone had to take a bite of the birthday person’s noodles.

Jiang Se had already eaten quite a lot at Han Yin’s place, so she only planned to take a single bite of Lu Huaiyan’s noodles. But the moment she tasted the broth, she immediately felt like her stomach had room for another.

It was simply too delicious.

She set down the dish, savoring the tangy and umami-rich flavor in her mouth. “The broth is made with lemon shrimp? I thought you didn’t like sour food.”

The broth had been brought up by the butler from the hotel’s kitchen, served in an enamel bowl. Jiang Se had assumed it would be Junyue’s famous lamb bone soup or seafood broth.

She hadn’t expected it to be this—savory, tangy, and slightly spicy lemon shrimp broth.

Lu Huaiyan studied her expression, glanced at her now-empty dish, and asked, “Do you want another bite?”

Jiang Se nodded. “Just one more, then I’m done.”

Lu Huaiyan picked up a second portion for her. Only after confirming that she truly didn’t want a third did he finally pick up his own chopsticks and start eating.

Though he ate at a steady pace, his dining manners were refined and elegant—pleasing to the eye.

Jiang Se held a cup of red tea in her hands, watching as he finished the entire bowl of noodles.

“You used to cook often?”

Lu Huaiyan dabbed the corner of his lips with a napkin, poured himself a cup of red tea, and replied, “When I was studying in England, I got tired of restaurant food, so I started cooking for myself.”

After Han Yin left Beicheng, due to the extremely poor relationship between her and Lu Jinzhong, the old master of the Lu family sent him to an elite public school in England.

At first, the old master arranged for two butlers to accompany him and take care of his daily needs, but Lu Huaiyan preferred living alone, so he sent them back home.

The man took a sip of red tea. Seeing that she didn’t continue asking, he set down his teacup and said, “What else do you want to know? My best dish? My first love? Or how many relationships I’ve had?”

Jiang Se met his gaze through his glasses but instead asked a completely unrelated question. “How did you feel when you kicked Lu Jinzhong out of the Lu Corporation?”

Seemingly surprised by her choice of topic, Lu Huaiyan tapped his index finger against the teacup, then pondered for a moment before replying, “Relief. Excitement. More precisely, an unparalleled thrill.”

An unparalleled thrill.

Jiang Se lowered her gaze and took a slow sip of tea.

Silence lingered between them. Lu Huaiyan watched her long eyelashes droop slightly before suddenly asking, “Feeling any better now?”

Jiang Se’s movements paused. She lifted her eyes. “What?”

“When you first arrived at mother’s place this afternoon, weren’t you feeling awful?” His deep eyes studied her. He asked again, “Are you feeling better now?”

Jiang Se fell silent.

Images of Zhao Zhicheng’s photograph and Zhang Yue’s tear-streaked face flashed through her mind.

Had he spoken more than usual at Han Yin’s place today because he noticed her mood and was deliberately trying to lift her spirits?

Setting down her teacup, she smiled slightly and nodded. “Much better.”

Lu Huaiyan looked at her, but at that moment, she stood up and asked, “Do you mind if I play a song?”

He stood up as well and asked directly, “Which one? The same as last time?”

“Mm.”

The record player was already set up, so all she had to do was place the record in, and it would play.

Once again, it was Born to Die. After starting the music, Lu Huaiyan sat down beside Jiang Se on the leather sofa. The cushion sank slightly under his weight, and a faint trace of sandalwood fragrance drifted from him.

Jiang Se turned her face toward him. When their eyes met—his gaze dark and unreadable—she did not look away.

The record spun slowly.

“Keep making me laugh, let’s go get high.”

“The road is long, we carry on.”

“Try to have fun in the meantime.”

As the singer reached this line, Jiang Se’s gaze skimmed over Lu Huaiyan’s gold-rimmed glasses. She said, “I want to see you without your glasses.”

When he had carried her out of the abandoned factory, he hadn’t been wearing them.

Back then, he was still lying low, yet to utterly destroy Lu Jinzhong. The old master of the Lu family had not yet insisted he wear glasses to soften his sharpness.

Jiang Se thought—she still preferred how he looked without them.

Leaning back against the sofa, Lu Huaiyan gazed at her and said, “If you want to see, you’ll have to take them off yourself.”

They were only half an arm’s length apart. Jiang Se leaned forward slightly, lifted a hand, and removed his glasses.

She looked into his eyes.

He had never concealed his desire for her. Though he always approached her gently, seeking to win her over with tenderness, the innate sharpness and predatory intensity in his bones had never faded—on the contrary, it had only grown stronger.

The moment he appeared, the moment he looked at her, she could feel the warmth of his invasion, so soft yet inescapable.

Now, without the barrier of his glasses, the turbulent darkness in his eyes was even more piercing.

Like two magnets, they drew closer, slowly.

When the needle reached the line “Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain,” their lips met.

At first, it was just a light touch, a gentle brush, as if tracing each other’s lips with their own.

Their lips, dampened by red tea, carried a faint trace of moisture.

But that slight dampness was quickly evaporated by the heat of their mingled breaths.

Lu Huaiyan lost patience first. His lips parted, capturing hers.

In the next instant, Jiang Se felt a firm grip tighten around her waist—before she realized it, he had pulled her into his embrace, onto his lap.

His hand cradled the back of her head, deepening the kiss.

It was a kiss of intense entanglement.

It was neither as fierce as last time nor as tentative as moments ago—rather, it was like an endless drizzle, gentle and lingering.

Neither of them had the habit of closing their eyes while kissing. Lu Huaiyan could clearly see the way her lashes trembled each time he entwined her tongue with his.

Her tongue was hot.

Soft, sticky—like a piece of cotton candy slowly melting in his mouth.

It wasn’t until his fingers brushed against the skin of her neck that he realized something was wrong. Forcing himself to suppress the burning heat raging through his body, he cupped her face in both hands and suddenly tilted his head back—pop!—abruptly breaking the kiss.

Jiang Se’s eyes, misty with desire, held a hint of dazed confusion.

Lu Huaiyan lifted a hand to her forehead, his voice low and raspy with frustration. “You have a fever.”

Jiang Se knew she had a fever.

She had known ever since she walked out of Zhang Yue’s room.

This slow-burning fever was something she was used to, almost like a built-in defense mechanism. Every time her emotions wavered because of what happened seven years ago, her body would trigger it—a dull, simmering heat that would burn through the night, only to leave her feeling normal again when she woke up.

“So, I can’t kiss you just because I have a fever?” Jiang Se looked at Lu Huaiyan. “Didn’t you want me? Well, I want you now too.”

She didn’t seem surprised at all—clearly, she had been well aware of her condition all along.

A fever hadn’t stopped her from going to dinner, nor from sitting with him to share longevity noodles. And now, despite it all, she was still pulling him in, tempting him to kiss her, to take her.

Lu Huaiyan let out a short, incredulous laugh. “No matter how much I want you, I can wait until your fever goes down. I’m not a beast—I’m not going to take advantage of a girl who’s burning up with fever.”

“…”

With a swift motion, he hooked his hands under her arms and lifted her, setting her back into her original seat before standing up and walking toward the TV cabinet.

The hazy, passion-laced look in Jiang Se’s eyes completely dissipated. Her gaze sharpened, regaining its usual clarity and coolness as she watched his retreating figure.

“I’m not delirious,” she said, her voice calm. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Lu Huaiyan didn’t respond. He rummaged through the medical kit, pulling out a mercury thermometer and some fever medication before turning back toward her.

“Not delirious, huh?” He took the thermometer out of its transparent case and held the mercury tip up to her lips, which were swollen from his kisses. “Hold this in your mouth and measure your temperature. Then I’ll believe you.”

Jiang Se: “…” He was treating her like a child.

She glanced at the thermometer in his hand, considered for a moment, then obediently opened her mouth and held it between her lips.

Lu Huaiyan watched her for a while. Once he was certain the thermometer was secure, he stood up and headed to the kitchen, returning with a glass of warm water.

Checking his watch, he counted the time before finally reaching over and taking the thermometer from her mouth.

“39.1 degrees.”

The number surprised Jiang Se a little. She had always had low-grade fevers—rarely did her temperature go above 38 degrees.

Excitement could raise body temperature, and considering how hot her tongue had felt during the kiss, it was probably even higher than this. No wonder he had stopped.

Lu Huaiyan set the thermometer down, broke two fever-reducing pills from the pack, and fed them to her mouth before handing her a sip of water.

“Besides the fever, where else do you feel unwell?”

When she thought it was just a mild fever, she had only felt a slight chill. But now, knowing that she was actually burning up, her limbs started feeling weak, and a faint headache crept in.

That was the thing about people—once they became aware of their own weakness, their mental state often collapsed faster than their body.

She swallowed the medicine and said with a calm expression, “Nowhere. It’s probably just the flu. You might get infected, too.”

Tongcheng had been dealing with a severe flu outbreak for the past two months, leaving hospitals overcrowded.

They had just kissed—and for quite a while at that. If it really was the flu, there was no way he could avoid it now.

Lu Huaiyan, still sitting at the coffee table, casually tidied up the thermometer and the medicine box. Upon hearing her words, he didn’t even raise an eyebrow and replied nonchalantly, “Good. Remember this, Jiang Se—if I get a high fever in the next two days, however I take care of you tonight, you’ll have to take care of me the same way.”

“…”

He sat a little higher than her, and she glanced up at him. “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

She tried to stand, but Lu Huaiyan set the medicine box aside and pressed down on her shoulders, pushing her back onto the couch.

“You have two choices—either stay here and let me take care of you, or have your family come pick you up and let them do it.” His gaze locked onto her, voice carrying a hint of gritted restraint. “Pick one.”

—

The sound of water cascading from the showerhead filled the bathroom, the rhythmic patter making Jiang Se’s scalp tingle.

Her head throbbed even more.

She didn’t bother washing her hair—just gave herself a quick rinse before wrapping herself in a bathrobe and stepping out.

Lu Huaiyan was waiting outside. As soon as he saw her, his eyes flickered over her face to check her complexion before he handed her the clothes in his hand.

“I haven’t worn these before. Make do with them for now. Someone will send fresh clothes over later.”

It was a set of black men’s pajamas, the long-sleeved kind meant for autumn and winter.

Jiang Se took them and said, “Thank you.”

“The medicine I gave you earlier has a sedative effect. Feeling sleepy yet?”

Jiang Se did feel drowsy. She nodded.

Like this, she looked particularly obedient.

Lu Huaiyan’s earlier irritation—caused by her reckless disregard for her own health—gradually faded away.

“Go to sleep. There’s a glass of water on the nightstand. If you get thirsty, remember to drink. I’ll leave the door open—call me if you need anything.”

The room Jiang Se was staying in was right next to the master bedroom. With the door left slightly ajar, any movement on her end would reach him.

After Lu Huaiyan left, Jiang Se stared at the half-open door, then slowly changed into his pajamas, slipping off her bathrobe.

Her last thought before drifting off was a strange one: No wonder Aunt Han could still retain a trace of innocence after all these years—he always took good care of the people he wanted to take care of.

—

Jiang Se didn’t sleep well that night.

Her body felt exhausted, as if she had just walked through a volcanic inferno only to suddenly plummet into a frozen wasteland. She was hot one moment, cold the next—over and over again, unable to wake up fully.

She wasn’t even aware that she was murmuring in her sleep, nor did she notice when someone entered the room.

Lu Huaiyan placed the back of his hand against her forehead and immediately frowned. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he carefully propped her up while reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand.

The moment the rim of the cup touched her lips, before he even said a word, she instinctively parted her mouth, eyes still closed, and sipped at the water obediently.

She drank the whole cup. Then, her head rested limply against his shoulder, and she murmured almost inaudibly, “Aunt Zhang, Se Se only drinks one cup per hour.”

Lu Huaiyan’s hand stilled slightly. He looked down at the girl resting against him.

She really was feverish and delirious—she had mistaken him for Aunt Zhang.

She was unexpectedly easy to take care of when she was sick. She drank water when told, yet even in her fevered haze, she still tried to negotiate. It was obvious she wasn’t fond of drinking water.

Lu Huaiyan’s mind suddenly drifted to a memory of Jiang Se as a child.

That scorching summer day, she had clung to his shoulder, soaking wet, her entire body trembling from shock. Yet, despite being visibly shaken, she had still managed to stammer, “Huaiyan-ge, when we get to Aunt Han’s, can you call Aunt Zhang for me?”

Other children, when surviving a near-death experience, would cry and wail for their parents.

But all she wanted was her housekeeper.

Was it because, whether she was sick or feeling wronged, Aunt Zhang was the only person she could turn to?

In the darkness, Lu Huaiyan sat quietly for a long time. It was only when a faint ache crept into his shoulder that he finally set down the empty water cup and carefully laid the girl—who had been sleeping soundly against him—back onto the bed.

He tucked the blanket around her, his movements gentle as he brushed away the strands of hair clinging to her face.

In a low voice, he murmured, “You used to call me Huaiyan-ge a lot when you were little.”

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