Feverish from My Own Doing

The Local Police Station's infirmary had little in the way of diagnostic equipment — mostly it handled minor injuries — so Xie Qingcheng ended up being taken to a proper hospital by Chen Man after all.

Chen Man bustled through the night-shift emergency registration, fetched the medication, and waited on the blood-test results, while Xie Qingcheng leaned back against the hospital's cold metal chairs with his eyes closed.

After a while Chen Man came back from the window, a freshly printed test report in hand.

The report bore a single line that made Chen Man wonder if his eyes had gone bad: mango allergy.

'Sir, a grown adult ought to know their own allergens.' The night-shift doctor pushed up his glasses and addressed Xie Qingcheng. 'This is awfully careless — look at these readings, they're alarming.'

He kept talking while his pen flew across the prescription pad, scrawling out a long list of medications in barely legible script.

'For a reaction this severe we'd normally give an anti-allergy injection, though this level of response would require three consecutive days of treatment. If that's too disruptive with work, there's also an IV drip option — one session tonight and you're done. Have a think about which you'd prefer.'

Xie Qingcheng had no fondness for allergy shots, and even less desire to trek to the hospital three days running.

'The drip,' he said.

They made their way to the infusion room.

Xie Qingcheng's constitution didn't tolerate a fast drip well — too quick and he'd go dizzy, feel like vomiting — so once the nurse had gone, he reached over and dialed the IV down himself.

Chen Man rushed through all the remaining paperwork at impressive speed, then came and settled into the seat beside Xie Qingcheng.

He studied Xie Qingcheng's profile for a moment — eyes still closed — and said quietly, 'Ge, haven't you always avoided mango?'

Xie Qingcheng felt thoroughly aggrieved. 'What, I can't have a moment of blind bad luck?'

Chen Man absorbed the unprompted scolding without complaint — he was used to it. His older brother had been a protégé of Xie Qingcheng's father, and Chen Man himself had been around Xie Qingcheng since childhood; he knew the man's temperament. When this particular gege found himself in an embarrassing situation, the wisest thing you could do was pretend not to notice. Say a word out of turn and you'd end up exactly where Chen Man was now — on the receiving end of a dressing-down.

Chen Man let out a small sigh. 'Stay put — I'll go get you some hot water.'

He was back quickly, holding a paper cup steaming with warmth, which he held out to Xie Qingcheng's slightly chilled fingertips. 'Ge, drink a little.'

Only then did Xie Qingcheng open his eyes. He took it and drank a few sips.

'Who tricked you into eating mango?' Chen Man watched his wan, weakened state and murmured, 'That's a seriously shitty thing to do to someone.'

Xie Qingcheng finished the water, and his tone finally eased, just slightly. 'Some debt collector...'

That was exactly what it was, wasn't it.

He thought.

Nothing good had ever come of crossing paths with He Yu.

He knew perfectly well about his mango allergy — knew how violent the reaction was. Beyond the skin flushing hot and red, it would throw him into a high fever. He had been steering clear of mangoes since the age of seven or eight, treating them as a biochemical weapon. Even his sister, who could drool over a mango, had always accommodated him — no mango-flavored anything ever crossed the threshold of their home, in deference to his continued survival.

He had gone so long without one that he'd forgotten what mango tasted like. On Neverland with He Yu, the light had already faded by the time they'd eaten, and he hadn't been able to make out the fruit layered inside the cake — he'd eaten the Mango Mousse thinking it was a yellow-peach sponge.

Xie Qingcheng exhaled. 'I'm going to sleep for a bit — do you need to get back?'

'Oh.' Chen Man said quickly. 'No rush. None at all. I'll stay with you.'

Xie Qingcheng was too exhausted and too wretched; his eyelashes drooped and he was asleep against the chair almost at once.

The infusion room air conditioning was running a touch cold, and patients on a drip tend to chill easily besides. Chen Man noticed Xie Qingcheng's brow pinch slightly in his sleep — something about the temperature wasn't sitting right — and got up, shrugged off his uniform jacket, and laid the dark navy coat over Xie Qingcheng's shoulders.

The warmth reached him, and the furrow in Xie Qingcheng's brow slowly smoothed. Chen Man watched that sharp, clean face with quiet attention, and felt no sense of the time dragging at all...

'Time to change the bag.'

At some point, one of the emergency nurses appeared.

She was a shift replacement for the previous nurse, and when she came over and caught sight of Xie Qingcheng, she stopped short —

She was an old colleague of Xie Qingcheng's from Hu First Hospital, and the two of them had never gotten along. Seeing him as the patient, her expression cooled, and her eyes moved back and forth between Xie Qingcheng and Chen Man, lingering for a few seconds on the police uniform draped over Xie Qingcheng's shoulders.

Chen Man, none the wiser, was perfectly polite. 'Thank you for your trouble.'

The nurse gave a cold little laugh, her voice slow and drawn-out. 'Don't mention it. And who is this to you?'

'... I...' Chen Man's face colored slightly without his meaning it to. 'A friend.'

'A friend.' The nurse smiled. 'Officer, such dedication — rushing your friend here in the middle of the night and keeping a devoted watch.'

Chen Man sensed something barbed in the way she spoke, but he didn't take it to heart. Once the nurse had switched the bag she swayed out of the room, and all the way down the hall she was tapping away at her phone, sending messages into what was presumably a work group chat.

By the time Xie Qingcheng's drip was up it was well past midnight; three full bags emptied at the slowest possible rate, and when he woke, it was already morning.

He was prone to allergies and didn't recover easily, and the reaction had been severe — even with the needle out he still felt wretched. Chen Man told him, 'Ge, keep the coat over your shoulders for now — don't catch more cold.'

Xie Qingcheng had no energy to argue. He murmured an assent, draped Chen Man's uniform jacket around himself, and walked out.

The hospital lobby was already surging with people; Hu First Hospital was always like this. Chen Man took the medical record and went to collect the oral medications, asking Xie Qingcheng to wait somewhere less crowded.

Xie Qingcheng leaned against the wall with his eyes shut. After a while, he became aware of approaching footsteps —

Someone stopped in front of him.

Xie Qingcheng assumed it was Chen Man and opened his eyes. 'All sorted?'

Without really looking at the person, he straightened up. 'Good work today. Let's go.'

'... Xie Qingcheng.'

The voice registered, and Xie Qingcheng's head snapped up.

He was looking at a face of clean, sharp lines — handsome, refined.

The person standing before him was none other than the very culprit who had reduced him to this state: He Yu.

He Yu stared at him. 'What are you doing here?'

The color drained from Xie Qingcheng's expression immediately.

There was also the fact that they had parted on the island last night mid-argument, badly. It seemed that every time Xie Qingcheng and He Yu met these days, it ended in a quarrel. At the root of it: He Yu had grown up, grown into himself, and was no longer the boy who had found Xie Qingcheng frightening, who had held him in awe. He had learned to push back from every possible angle, finding new ways to get under this man's skin — just to make him uncomfortable, and to enjoy the satisfaction himself.

Xie Qingcheng had no desire to be laughed at by someone half his age. His expression sharpened gradually, his spine straightened, and he gave no sign of being unwell at all. 'Nothing much. Something I needed to take care of.'

He studied He Yu. 'And why are you at the hospital again.'

As he said it, his eyes dropped to the hospital pharmacy bag in He Yu's hand.

He Yu moved the bag behind himself without making a show of it and said evenly, 'Roommate's sick. I have the car, so I came to pick up his medication.'

'...'

'...'

They held each other's gaze, both concealing themselves.

After a moment, He Yu said, 'The jacket on your shoulder...'

It was only then that Xie Qingcheng remembered he still had Chen Man's uniform over him — a police jacket thrown over a crisp white dress shirt; it was conspicuous, no question. No wonder He Yu had picked him out of the crowd at a glance.

'A friend's.'

'You're waiting for him?'

Xie Qingcheng gave a perfunctory nod.

He Yu's mood was poor as well. The shock of Xie Xue's love letter had been too much; the medication he usually took wasn't holding, and he had come to get something stronger prescribed. In truth, when he'd first spotted Xie Qingcheng, he'd had little inclination to engage. He'd thought of it only because Xie Qingcheng was Xie Xue's brother — you don't run into someone's sibling in a hospital corridor and say nothing.

Now he had no particular desire to linger, and even less to meet Xie Qingcheng's friend.

'Then I'll be off,' he said. 'I have somewhere else to be.'

And He Yu left.

Xie Qingcheng watched his retreating figure with a slight frown. He knew that when He Yu's condition worsened, certain medications could only be filled at a top-tier hospital. Could it be that —

'Xie-ge.' Chen Man returned at that moment, cutting through Xie Qingcheng's thoughts. 'Medication's all done — let me take you home.'

He noticed where Xie Qingcheng was looking and followed the line of his gaze, but He Yu had already vanished into the stream of bodies.

Chen Man asked, 'What is it?'

'... Nothing.' Xie Qingcheng said.

What else was there to say?

That he'd run into the culprit?

Xie Qingcheng said, 'Let's go.'

'Right, yes — Ge, mind the step.'

Half an hour later, Chen Man drove him back to the faculty residences at Hu Medical. Chen Man hung his uniform jacket on the hook by the door, then went to the kitchen to dissolve the powdered medication and brought it to Xie Qingcheng, watching him drink it down slowly.

'Ge.' Chen Man turned it over for a moment. 'Did you run into someone you knew back at the hospital?'

'...'

'And last night, that nurse who came to change your bag — she had an odd manner about her.'

This time Xie Qingcheng answered him. 'Long face, mole below the lip, somewhere in her thirties or forties?'

'That's her.'

'That's Nurse Zhou — she worked under one of the senior physicians. Nothing to it; she and I just never got on.'

Xie Qingcheng took his medication and felt the exhaustion return. He lay down on the sofa.

He was still irritable when he thought about it — both the old colleague from Hu First Hospital and He Yu grated on him alike. When Xie Qingcheng was irritable, he smoked; especially now, after having endured the entire night in the infusion room without once touching a lighter. He moved his arm away from his eyes and said to Chen Man, sitting beside him, 'Give me a cigarette.'

Chen Man looked stricken. 'You can't smoke! Your readings — look at them yourself —'

'I know what they say. I'm the doctor here, not you. Cigarette.'

'No — I won't!'

'Is it that you don't have one, or that you won't give me one?'

'I — don't — ' Chen Man tripped over himself.

Xie Qingcheng grabbed him by the front of his jacket, reached into the uniform breast pocket with surgical precision, and pulled out a pack of Liqun. He rolled his eyes, tore it open, and bit a cigarette between his lips.

Chen Man: '...'

Xie Qingcheng: 'Light.'

Chen Man let out a heavy sigh, utterly defeated. 'Xie-ge, this really isn't good for you — if Uncle and Auntie knew...'

It was an accidental mention of Xie Qingcheng's parents, and the moment the words were out Xie Qingcheng's expression shut down. Chen Man didn't dare say another word. He murmured a small, 'Sorry.'

Then, with visible reluctance, he handed over the lighter and watched helplessly as Xie Qingcheng committed slow suicide.

Xie Qingcheng drew on the cigarette, his pale, slender hand hanging over the edge of the sofa, head tilted back and gaze going vacant, fixed on the ceiling.

Then he said to Chen Man, 'You've been on your feet all night on my account. I've kept you long enough. Thank you. You should head back.'

'... How is any of this keeping you...'

But Xie Qingcheng couldn't keep Chen Man running around on his behalf any longer. He held firm. 'Go home and rest.'

Chen Man conceded, though not without one last thought. 'Ge, I'm worried about you. I'm pretty sure some rotten bastard tricked you into eating that mango — whoever's giving you trouble, you tell me, all right? I'm a police officer now, I can deal with him —'

'Deal with him, can you.' Xie Qingcheng finally moved his eyes, looking at the young, still-boyish face beside him. He reached over and yanked Chen Man's cap down hard, half-covering his eyes. 'You can, can you — not even many pips on those shoulders yet. I'm telling you: go back, do your job at the Local Police Station, and stop trying to play the hero. Your brother is gone; you're the only son your family has left. Give them something less to worry about.'

'... I understand...'

Chen Man quietly bowed his head.

Xie Qingcheng sank back against the cushion as if the last of his strength had left him, the whole of him slack and defeated. 'Go home.'

Chen Man had no choice but to leave.

A good kid, that one — but reckless, always moving at a rush. Xie Qingcheng knew why he'd become a police officer: his older brother had died during The Anti-Gang Operation, and Chen Man wanted revenge for him. But the boy was too green, his abilities always falling short — in the end they'd assigned him to the Local Police Station rather than the Criminal Investigation Division where his brother had served. Deep down he'd never fully accepted that, and Xie Qingcheng could see it clearly.

But Xie Qingcheng thought it was the better outcome.

His brother had followed their parents too closely, been drawn deeper and deeper in; Xie Qingcheng had always carried a feeling of debt toward Chen Man's family for that.

Chen Man, working as an ordinary beat officer, chasing petty thieves and finding lost dogs for old men — that was as good as it got. Better still if he never rose any higher.

That sleep was heavy and formless. Xie Qingcheng did not surface until the following morning, dragged up by a ringing phone.

'Hello.'

It was Xie Xue calling from her dormitory, apparently brushing her teeth while she talked. 'Hello — Ge — wait, what's wrong with your voice?'

'Nothing. I wasn't paying attention when I ate — had some mango.'

Xie Xue: 'What?? You're allergic and you still —'

'I told you, I wasn't paying attention. What did you call for?'

'Oh, nothing much.' Xie Xue said. 'Just checking in — our class has a field trip after lectures today. We're going to Nanshi.'

Xie Qingcheng coughed a few times, his whole body a furnace, burning badly. 'Fine, go ahead — stay safe on the way. Don't go anywhere secluded alone with anyone. I've told you before: what happened at Kangcheng Asylum was luck, but if something like that were to...'

'I know, I know. Don't worry! And Ge — take care of yourself.'

The two of them exchanged a few more words; then Xie Xue, not wanting to disturb his rest any further, hung up.

After she ended the call, she thought it over for a moment, and then placed a voice call to He Yu —

...

Xie Qingcheng fell back asleep.

He was good at looking after others and terrible at looking after himself. Since Chen Man had brought him home, all he'd done was take two tablets and smoke a few cigarettes; he hadn't eaten a single thing. He felt too ill to bother, too listless to cook — whatever happened, sleep first.

He didn't know how long he slept. In the blur of half-sleep, Xie Qingcheng dimly heard the click of the door lock — his consciousness like a kite drifting loose in the sky, tugged partway back toward the ground by a thread.

He didn't open his eyes, but he knew someone had come in.

In his daze he assumed it was Xie Xue — she was the only one with a key to his room.

But hadn't she gone on the field trip? That kind of school activity was awkward for newer faculty to skip. Why had she come all the way here...

Vaguely thinking this, he rolled over, reluctant to be disturbed by his sister, and instinctively reached for the blanket to pull around himself — only to find his hand closing on nothing. It took that to make him realize he'd been lying on the sofa the whole time since coming home, his dress-shirt cuffs still buttoned.

He was frowning with irritation when the warmth came.

Whoever had entered the room walked over, looked at him for a moment, and draped a light air-conditioning blanket over him.

Xie Qingcheng tried to open his eyes, but exhaustion had its full weight on him; through the faint stir of his lashes he caught only the dim outline of a tall young man in profile — and then his heavy eyelids fell shut again.

When he woke again it was evening. The floor had been mopped clean by a diligent hand; the windows were open to air the room, and a faint damp breeze moved the curtains — white gauze swaying back and forth in the last of the day's light.

Xie Qingcheng half-opened his eyes. One arm slid out from under the air-conditioning blanket, warm with his own heat, hand coming up to shield his face.

There was another man's voice in the room, apparently on a call. '...Mm. Alright. I'll come in a few days then. ...It's no trouble — you don't need much time, and I've been wanting to pick up some experience outside my field anyway.'

'Don't worry, Sister Feng — I've already put in for the leave. I know things are difficult for you all. Nothing will go wrong.'

'Mm. Right — I'll hang up then.'

And it was only then, still muffled in illness, that Xie Qingcheng registered whose voice it was.

He yanked himself upright, jolted fully awake, and turned sharply toward the source of the sound —

He Yu had just ended the call and was walking out of the kitchen. He was carrying a wooden tray, which he brought over and set down on the coffee table.

On the tray sat a wide Mino-ware bowl, filled to the brim with chicken congee. The broth had clearly been simmered for a long time — it had turned that rich, enticing shade of milky white. The japonica rice had absorbed the stock until each grain was saturated, translucent and full-flavored; pale shreds of chicken floated among them, and the surface was scattered with a dusting of toasted white sesame.

'... You're up? Good — eat it while it's hot. I followed a recipe online.'

A few seconds' silence, and then he added:

'I saw the test report and prescription on your table.'

'...'

'You were at the emergency room last night. Getting a drip. Weren't you.'

Xie Qingcheng pressed a hand over his eyes and gave himself a moment, then pushed himself upright on the sofa.

Only once he was sure his voice wouldn't scrape out like a broken bellows did he speak. 'How did you end up here?'

There was something off about He Yu's bearing — too still, too controlled, with a heaviness underneath that had no name.

Even ill, Xie Qingcheng caught the wrongness of it. He followed the line of He Yu's arm and noticed a strip of bandage wrapped around the young man's wrist; and then, upward — those hooded almond eyes, always half-lowered, looked like they might still be carrying the faint trace of red.

Xie Qingcheng thought again of the medication He Yu had filled at the hospital.

But before he could ask anything, He Yu leaned forward — one hand reaching past Xie Qingcheng's shoulder to brace against the back of the sofa — and looked down at the man half-reclined below him. 'Xie Qingcheng. You're severely allergic to mango. So why did you tell me at the hospital that it was nothing.'

'... Xie Xue told you?'

'Yes. She asked me to come and check on you — said you weren't well, that your voice was already hoarse when you spoke to her.'

'...'

He Yu held his gaze. 'I was the one who gave it to you. I'm the one who did this to you. Why did you hide it from me — why didn't you come to me — why wouldn't you tell me the truth at the hospital?'

'There was no reason to. You didn't do it deliberately; you didn't know about the allergy.' Xie Qingcheng's voice was flat, measured. 'I had other people to turn to.'

It was not the answer He Yu wanted. If anything, something more dangerous crept into the way he was watching Xie Qingcheng. '... I don't think I'm so vile that I'd cause this kind of harm and walk away without taking responsibility.'

'...'

'So what is it, exactly, that people think of me.'

'...'

People?

Xie Qingcheng frowned — who else was there, besides him?

But He Yu's mood was evidently fragile, and Xie Qingcheng let it go.

He Yu was quiet for a moment — as if recognizing he'd shown more than he intended — and slowly straightened up. '... Never mind.'

He poured Xie Qingcheng a glass of water, gathered the test report from where it lay, and looked at the allergy values on it — alarming figures — and exhaled.

'Nothing else keeping me — I'll head back.'

Seven years of habit spoke before Xie Qingcheng had consciously decided anything. 'He Yu.'

'What?'

Xie Qingcheng frowned slightly. 'Has something happened to you?'

'... No.'

'Then what's the bandage on your wrist about. And the medication you picked up at the hospital today —'

He Yu was already pulling his school uniform jacket on, still facing away. 'The medication — I told you, it's for a classmate. The wrist — your kitchen was a mess, I burned it cleaning up.'

He stretched his arm out; the bandage disappeared under the wide sleeve of the school jacket.

He Yu was quiet again for a moment — then seemed to genuinely run out of things to say. After a pause:

'I have evening study hall. I'll go. Remember to call Xie Xue and let her know I came.'

Xie Qingcheng said he would. But watching He Yu, the unease wouldn't settle.

He turned it over, then asked, 'Xie Xue went on the field trip — how is it you didn't go?'

The young man paused mid-crouch, tying his shoes. From where Xie Qingcheng sat, he couldn't see his face clearly — only half a jaw in shadow, the line of it sharp and fine.

'Too dull. Most of them are from the Department of Performing Arts — I don't have much to talk to them about. I wasn't interested.'

He pulled the laces tight and, without waiting for another question, He Yu pushed through the door and was gone.