Longing on the verge of falling

Only after Yuan Su was sound asleep did Pu Yu slowly release her hand.

A dull ache lingered around her wrist bone, where a distinct red ring remained.

She looked at the defenseless boy on the bed, her mind in turmoil.

This dilapidated house did not even have a cup of clean hot water. What would she do if his high fever still had not broken by tonight?

Pu Yu checked the time and hurried home.

Li Suhua was reheating dinner in the kitchen. Seeing her rush in, she looked a little surprised. "Yu, why are you home so early today?"

"Grandma," Pu Yu said breathlessly, a little panicked, "Yuan Su has a fever. It's really bad."

Li Suhua's hands paused. "A fever?"

Pu Yu nodded, anxiety in her voice. "It must be from getting soaked yesterday. I went to his house, and he was lying in bed alone, delirious with fever. I bought him medicine and helped him take it, but his fever hasn't gone down."

Li Suhua was silent for a few seconds, then set down her spatula. "I'll go take a look."

The door to Yuan Su's house stood ajar. Inside, it was as dim and quiet as ever.

Pu Yu hurried into the room and found Yuan Su still asleep, the towel on his forehead having slipped to one side.

Li Suhua walked over to the bed, felt his forehead, then touched his palm. "His fever is a little high, but his palms are hotter than the backs of his hands. That means he's about to sweat. It's a good sign."

Only after hearing her grandmother's words did Pu Yu feel a little less anxious.

Li Suhua looked around the empty house and sighed. "How has this child been getting by like this all on his own?"

"Go bring over the thick quilt from the trunk," her grandmother instructed.

"The trunk?" Pu Yu looked around but saw no trunk for storing quilts.

Already knowing her way around, her grandmother went into another room that got plenty of sunlight and took a thicker quilt from a wooden trunk. It had been washed clean and was still inside a white duvet cover from the hospital.

One glance told Li Suhua that Yuan Su had saved this quilt for his mother.

Lu Zhen loved cleanliness more than anything. Everything had to be brand-new, and she would not tolerate even a hint of dampness or any tears in her clothes.

Other families would mend torn clothes and keep wearing them.

But she never mended anything. She always replaced it with something new.

Li Suhua took the quilt and tucked it snugly over Yuan Su along with the thin one already on him. "Keep him bundled up. Once he's sweated it out, his fever should come down."

"I'm still heating dinner on the stove. Stay here and watch him for now. If his fever won't break, or anything seems wrong, hurry home and get me."

"Okay." Pu Yu nodded. "I understand, Grandma."

After seeing her grandmother home, Pu Yu pulled a small stool over to the bedside and sat down.

Yuan Su's breathing was steadier than before. Fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, and Pu Yu wiped them away before putting a fresh cold towel on him.

She had meant to do some homework.

But her gaze kept drifting uncontrollably toward the person sleeping on the bed.

That face, always so cold and distant, looked especially fragile now because of his fever.

She remembered the first time she had seen him-standing in the courtyard, surrounded by debt collectors, his back ramrod straight and his eyes cold as ice.

Back then, she had thought he was so fierce, so unapproachable.

Later, at school, he always sat alone in the back, rarely speaking or socializing with anyone. Everyone said he was a loner, that he brought bad luck, that his family was buried in debt and he was no good.

Yet last night, when she had knocked on his door at her most helpless and desperate, this very "bad person" had not hesitated or asked questions. He had picked up a tarp and rushed into the rain with her.

On the roof, he had been drenched by the downpour as he covered every leaking spot.

And today, he lay alone in this empty house with a high fever, without even a cup of hot water beside him.

Waves of aching sadness rose in Pu Yu's chest.

She reached out and gently touched his hand where it lay outside the quilt.

It was still hot, but a little better than before.

Time ticked by, minute after minute.

Every so often, Pu Yu reached out to check the temperature of his forehead. When he sweated, she carefully wiped the beads from his neck and cheeks with a dry towel.

Sitting on the hard stool left her back and waist aching.

At last, she could not hold out any longer. She slumped over the edge of the bed and drifted off to sleep.

The old clock on the wall crept past twelve.

By the time Yuan Su woke, it was completely dark outside.

After the high fever broke, his body felt heavy, weak, and limp, as if it had been taken apart and put back together. His mind was terribly hazy, too.

He stared at the yellowed ceiling for a while before slowly turning his head.

Pu Yu had fallen asleep beside his bed.

Her cheek rested on her arm, her breathing slow and even. A few stray strands of hair clung playfully to the side of her face, trembling gently with each breath.

Yuan Su stared at the sight, dazed.

For a moment, he thought his fever had made him hallucinate.

Only when the soreness and weakness in his body grew clearer did he realize this was not a dream.

The rainy night, the roof, the ginger soup, the bitter taste of medicine in his throat, and that little bit of warmth he had clung to in his delirium, unwilling to let go...

It was her.

It had always been her.

Yuan Su watched her for a long time, as though he wanted to carve this scene into his soul.

"...Idiot."

He murmured the word under his breath.

His voice was very soft, carrying a tenderness it had never held before.

Yuan Su tried to push himself up without making a sound, but the moment he moved, the bed frame let out a piercing creak.

So annoying.

It had woken her.

Pu Yu's lashes fluttered, and she opened her eyes groggily.

Seeing Yuan Su suddenly sitting up, she froze for a moment, then snapped wide awake and sprang to her feet. "You're awake? How do you feel? Are you still feeling sick?"

As she spoke, she instinctively reached out to check his forehead.

This time, Yuan Su did not pull away.

He sat there quietly, his eyes lowered, allowing her cool, soft hand to rest against his forehead.

"Thank goodness, I think your fever's gone!" Pu Yu breathed a sigh of relief, a radiant smile spreading across her face. "Are you hungry? Grandma made rice porridge just for you. It's still warm in the insulated container. Want some to warm your stomach?"

Yuan Su looked at her and asked stiffly:

"How did you get in?"

"I walked in."

As Pu Yu spoke, she unscrewed the lid of the insulated food container, and the aroma of rice porridge instantly filled the small room.

"Have some porridge first. You can't eat anything too greasy right now."

Yuan Su looked at the bowl of porridge without saying a word.

His throat was dry and sore after the high fever, but what truly burned was something else, something more secret-it was wet and full, suspended in his hollow chest like a droplet hanging from the tip of a vine after last night's sudden downpour.

Each time she drew a little closer, that droplet trembled.

Her outline, her presence, and the unreserved warmth in her eyes all shimmered into fragments within it, refracting a wavering, searing light.

It held all the longing he dared not voice.

Poised in his heart, on the verge of falling.