Wasn’t he so weak he couldn’t even lift his arms? How did he manage to walk from his room to here?

Song Xu let out two weak, frail coughs. “I called for you, but there was no answer. I thought you had fainted, so I came to check.”

“I’m sorry, I was in the shower and didn’t hear you.” Lin Xi felt it was her fault; she should have informed her boss first. “Can you make it back to your own room now?”

Song Xu shook his head. “Can’t. No strength left.”

With that, he closed his eyes.

Lin Xi stood frozen in silence for a long time. Finally, she turned around to find some clothes and got dressed.

She stared at Song Xu for a while longer before reluctantly accepting the situation. Given his current state, it wasn’t like he could actually do anything.

Since Song Xu was occupying her bed, Lin Xi took the opportunity to clean his bedroom and change his linens. By the time she returned, he was fast asleep.

She touched his forehead; his fever was trending upward again. It was too soon for another dose of medicine, so she would have to rely on physical cooling methods.

She had one trump card left that she hadn’t used yet: cupping therapy, a skill passed down directly from her grandmother.

Growing up, Lin Xi rarely went to the hospital. For minor colds, she didn’t even like taking medicine; a few cups on her back usually cleared things up quickly.

Lin Xi rummaged through the kitchen and eventually found a glass jar that was just the right size.

Song Xu felt someone helping him roll over. He couldn’t open his eyes; he just felt like his nostrils were breathing fire. He was incredibly hot.

Lin Xi wiped the sweat from her own brow. Her shower had been for nothing. She touched the back of Song Xu’s neck; there wasn’t a drop of moisture. He was radiating a dry, parched heat.

She wasn’t a professional at cupping, but her technique was solid from years of practicing on her grandmother’s back. She felt confident.

With limited tools, she lit a small cotton ball soaked in alcohol, dropped it into the glass jar, and waited for the air inside to burn off. Then, she pressed the jar firmly onto Song Xu’s Dazhui acupoint at the base of his neck—swift, accurate, and ruthless.

Song Xu snapped awake. He felt the skin on his neck being sucked into a single point. Something was gripping him tight; it was a bit painful and he couldn’t move.

“Lin Xi,” he called out.

“Does it hurt?” Lin Xi covered him with the duvet. “Your fever is spiking again. I’m giving you a cupping treatment. It only takes ten minutes.”

“Cupping?” Song Xu perked up a bit. He had seen it before but never tried it. He couldn’t believe his first time was being handled by Lin Xi. “Where did you get a jar?”

“It’s from that canned fruit I bought the other day. Good thing I didn’t throw the glass jar away,” Lin Xi explained.

“A fruit jar?” Song Xu reached back to touch his neck. He felt a massive bottle; even with one hand, it was a struggle to grasp. He recalled seeing people get cupped with tiny little glass cups. “Lin Xi, are you sure using a jar this big is okay?”

“It’s fine! I’ve used jars this size since I was a kid, and my grandmother uses them too. Relax,” Lin Xi reassured him.

Song Xu was anything but relaxed. The jar was so large it made his skin ache. He endured it for a bit, then asked twice in quick succession, “Lin Xi, is the time up yet?”

“No, it’s only been two minutes,” Lin Xi replied without looking up from her book at the desk. “I’ve set a timer on my phone. Just sleep for a bit.”

Lin Xi was being polite, but her subtext was clear: Shut up and stop asking every sixty seconds. It’s annoying.

Song Xu closed his eyes, suppressing his irritation. This “stubborn stone” was looking down on him again. She dared to bully him while he was sick; just wait until he was better, he would definitely settle this score.

Those ten minutes passed agonizingly slowly until the alarm finally chirped.

Lin Xi turned off the alarm and walked leisurely to the bedside. She slipped her index finger between the rim of the jar and his skin, letting air hiss in. The vacuum pressure released, and the glass jar came off.

Song Xu let out a muffled groan.

The mark left behind was a deep purple, indicating “cold energy” had trapped itself in his body. It was definitely the air conditioning. Who in their right mind sets the temperature to sixteen degrees?

Lin Xi used a clean towel to press against the mark, rubbing it gently to help the pores close quickly and prevent him from catching another chill.

Whether it was from nervousness or the treatment actually working, a thin layer of sweat finally broke out on Song Xu’s forehead.

“I’m thirsty,” Song Xu said, his voice raspy. “I want more lemon water.”

Lin Xi didn’t say a word. After tucking him in, she left the room to get the water.

Song Xu rolled onto his back.

Lin Xi returned with a large glass of water, lemon slices floating inside and a straw tucked in. She sat by the bed and nudged the straw into his mouth. “Drink.”

For the first time, Song Xu felt like the straw was a nuisance. He took a sip; it was lukewarm and tasted only of lemon. No sweetness at all.

He spat out the straw and frowned. “Why isn’t it sweet? Why isn’t it cold?”

“You have a fever because you caught a chill; you can’t have ice. As for the sweetness…” Lin Xi blinked. “You didn’t say you wanted sugar. Don’t men usually dislike sweets?”

Does a sweet tooth have a gender? Song Xu took two more sips and stopped. He suspected Lin Xi was doing this on purpose.

Lin Xi grabbed the thermometer gun and “shot” his forehead. Song Xu saw a hint of playfulness in her eyes.

“38.2°C. Still very high.” Lin Xi looked worried. “If the temperature doesn’t come down tonight, we’re going to the hospital tomorrow.”

“Not going,” Song Xu refused flatly. “I know my body. I’ll be fine tomorrow. Thank you for tonight; it’s been hard on you.”

“It’s no trouble. It’s my job.” Lin Xi’s answer was professional and distant.

This annoyed Song Xu. He opened his bloodshot eyes. “I’m hungry. I want noodle soup. Hand-pulled noodles.”

“Fine.” Lin Xi, who had just sat down, stood up again. “Hand-pulled noodles take time. Call me if it’s an emergency.”

Knowing he might not be heard from the kitchen, she placed his phone right by his hand.

Lin Xi moved to the kitchen. She had just finished kneading the dough when Song Xu’s call came through.

“What is it, President Song?” Lin Xi asked as she answered.

Song Xu’s deep, gravelly voice came through the speaker. “I want water. Come and feed me.”

Lin Xi ran back to the room and fed him.

Once she had the vegetables prepped, the phone rang again. “Lin Xi, the place where you did the cupping is itchy. Come and see what’s wrong.”

Lin Xi trotted back and gave the spot a couple of scratches. “It’s a normal reaction. You’re fine.”

Just as she finished slicing the noodles, she was called back once more. “Lin Xi, my head hurts. Massage it for me.”

Lin Xi clenched her fists. After steadying her emotions, she sat on the bed and began to massage his forehead. She started from his left temple, pressing and pinching as she went.

Soon, a dark purple “little star” appeared on Song Xu’s fair forehead, followed by another, and another. A row of seven, evenly distributed and perfectly symmetrical.

“President Song, feel any better?” Lin Xi asked with a sweet smile.

Song Xu hummed with his eyes closed. “A bit. When will the noodles be ready? I’m starving.”

“Soon.” Lin Xi stood and left.

Song Xu opened his eyes and watched her go. This “stubborn stone” really did have incredibly stable emotions.

Lin Xi returned to the kitchen, fired up the stove, and started sautéing the vegetables. Just as she tossed them into the hot pan, her phone rang again. Without looking, she hit the answer button.

“President Song, what is it now?”

Instead of Song Xu’s low, raspy voice, a gentle woman’s voice came through the phone.

“Xixi! It’s me!”