Yu Mo had a fever; it burned through the entire night.
It had rained the previous afternoon, and the temperature plummeted. Wearing only a thin trench coat, she had stood shivering outside a client’s factory gates for the better part of the day. Her head was already swimming by the time she left, and the fever took hold the moment she returned.
It wasn't until noon the next day that the fever finally broke, and her consciousness began to clear.
As her awareness returned, the realization that she was lying alone in a rented room with nothing to eat or drink brought a fleeting sense of bitterness. When Yu Mo was a child, there had always been a nanny at home; her every need, from food to clothing, had been meticulously attended to. Later, there was Xue Shen. With him, she had never known what it was like to lie sick and alone.
When Xue Shen wanted to treat someone well, he was the type who could pluck the stars from the sky.
Yu Mo remembered most vividly when they first started dating. Once, she mentioned her feet were cold, and without a moment's hesitation, Xue Shen had pulled her feet against his bare, burning chest to warm them. That kind of soul-shaking devotion was something one could never forget, not even in death.
That summer, they lived by the river at Yanzi-ji. Every evening, the long, low drone of steam whistles would drift over the water.
Summer was a season of torrential storms. The long stretch of road leading to their complex would often flood up to the ankles. He would either carry her on his back or have her step on his own feet as they walked, never letting her touch the water.
During the downpours, they would squeeze onto a tiny, two-square-meter balcony built of twenty-year-old brick to watch the rain together. The earthy scent of wet soil would rush toward them, and fine mist would spray against their faces with every gust of wind.
Xue Shen would rest a stainless steel bowl on his knees, filled with grapes bought from a street stall for two yuan a catty. He would tirelessly peel them one by one before popping the round, translucent fruit into Yu Mo’s mouth.
Yu Mo would sit on a bamboo chair, tilting it back on two legs, rocking back and forth.
When a bolt of lightning cracked across the sky, Xue Shen would instantly drop the grapes and use his sticky hands to cover her ears.
Yu Mo was ticklish and would giggle, trying to dodge him, but Xue Shen would only hold on tighter. The two of them would laugh like fools, waiting for the thunder to crash down.
How wonderful it would be if one could stay lost in a beautiful dream forever.
Unfortunately, the good things in this world never last.
Her phone buzzed with a message.
*“Momo, I had a dream yesterday. You were lying all alone, and my heart felt so tight I couldn't breathe. Say something so I know you’re safe, or I can’t guarantee what I might do.”*
Yu Mo’s eyes stung as she read the words.
It wasn't surprising; there had always been an inexplicable, almost psychic connection between them. Once, while playing a game with friends, the final level required two people to choose the same floor number to "survive." They had both chosen 4 at the same time—no reason, no explanation.
“I miss you so much, Xue Shen,” Yu Mo whispered to herself. Simultaneously, her fingers typed out: *“Safe. Do not disturb.”*
The withdrawal symptoms hadn't eased; the pain was as sharp as ever.
A delivery driver called to say her food had arrived.
Yu Mo gathered her emotions and crawled out of bed. It really was a crawl; she was so weak she felt her legs couldn't support her weight. She threw a knit cardigan over her pajamas and swayed unsteadily out the door.
Lotus New Village was a place of many oddities. Delivery drivers and couriers would only leave packages at the main gate, refusing to step a single inch inside. Perhaps this was the standard of service for a relocation housing estate.
Yu Mo picked up her delivery and began the walk back, looking as fragile as a willow in the wind, when she heard someone call her name. It was a man’s voice—low, deep, and tinged with a faint, habitual impatience. There was only one person she knew with a voice like that.
Qi Lian’s day had been going poorly. He had been doing electrical and plumbing work at Royal Lake and had planned to finish up today so he could move on to another site tomorrow. But for some reason, luck was against him. Two drill bits—the kind that cost several hundred yuan each—had snapped one after the other. It was like he was cursed.
He was forced to give in to the bad omen and packed up early to head home.
He didn't recognize Yu Mo at first. He had only glanced her way because her silhouette was striking, a man's instinct drawing his eye. On second look, she seemed familiar. He quickened his pace, and sure enough, it was her.
“Yu Mo?” he called out, sounding incredulous.
Yu Mo looked up. Her usually smooth hair was now a frizzy mess framing her face, making her small features look even tinier. Her lips, usually the color of candied fruit, were pale and dry, and her eyes were unnaturally watery from the fever.
She looked up at Qi Lian like a sickly, stray puppy.
A wave of irritation rose in Qi Lian’s chest. Why did this woman always manage to get herself into such a state? She should be clicking along in high heels, looking down on everyone, or acting spoiled with her mother—anything but this.
He reached out and took the delivery bag from her hand, trying to keep his voice level. “What happened to you?”
“I had a fever yesterday. I’m better now,” Yu Mo replied. Her voice was slightly raspy, carrying a trace of unintended vulnerability.
Qi Lian shifted the bag to his other hand and offered her his arm. “Lean on me.”
When Yu Mo didn't move, Qi Lian raised his voice. “Hurry up! The way you’re looking, you’ll be face-down on the ground in two steps.”
Yu Mo obediently reached out with both hands and gripped his arm.
She had no strength. Though she was trying to grip him, to Qi Lian, it felt more like a faint scratch, though her skin was burning hot.
Qi Lian glanced down at her hands. Her fingers were so thin—barely half the width of his—and so pale he could see every vein. They were clenched tightly around his arm, showing both helplessness and trust.
“Why are you only eating now?” he asked, then added, “Have you gone the whole day without food?”
“I haven't eaten since dinner last night.”
His brow furrowed deeper. “Where’s Jiang Qingfeng?”
Yu Mo blinked. “Oh, he’s probably at work. There’s no need to trouble him.”
As they climbed the stairs, Yu Mo made it up two steps before cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Her heavy breathing echoed in the narrow stairwell, and her fingers dug into Qi Lian’s flesh.
Qi Lian gritted his teeth. He couldn't take it anymore. He pulled her arm away, bent down in front of her, and said, “Get on!”
Yu Mo was running on pure willpower at this point. She slumped onto his back and closed her eyes, her consciousness beginning to drift.
Qi Lian hooked his hands under her thighs and gave her a slight hoist. She was so light, like a little kitten.
The motion-sensor lights in the stairwell flickered on and off. The only sound was the rhythmic *thud-thud* of his footsteps, sounding like a heartbeat.
Suddenly, a child somewhere let out a sharp scream, and Yu Mo flinched.
Qi Lian adjusted his hold on her and turned his head slightly to comfort her. “Don’t be scared. Just some kid getting a hiding.”
Yu Mo nuzzled into his back. The fabric of his jacket brushed against her face. When he spoke, she could feel the vibration through his spine. She caught his scent—not cologne, but a faint, indistinct mix of many things.
Her mind wasn't entirely clear, but guided by instinct, she thought it was strange how incredibly safe she felt. This back made her feel like it wouldn't be so bad to stay there forever.
Once inside the room, Qi Lian set her down on the bed.
Her pink duvet was bunched up, and as he got closer, he caught a faint floral scent.
Yu Mo sat on the edge of the bed. Qi Lian pulled over the only chair in the room, opened the delivery container, and handed it to her.
The delivery of green vegetable and egg noodles had completely clumped together, the broth almost entirely absorbed.
Yu Mo drank what little soup was left directly from the plastic bowl, then picked out a few wilted yellow leaves of bok choy, chewing and swallowing them slowly.
Watching her eat like that made Qi Lian’s blood boil. He thought that if he had a daughter like this, he’d have to teach her some damn sense.
He looked away, scanning her room instead. With his professional eye, he could tell at a glance that the room was no more than twenty square meters. A bed, a simple wardrobe, a vanity, and a stool were the only pieces of furniture.
Stacked neatly by the bed and window were over a dozen large cardboard boxes, piled as high as a person. The floor was covered in the cheapest laminate, and the plaster molding on the ceiling was cracked everywhere like a spiderweb. And yet, this fool Yu Mo actually believed the landlord when he said this was a "newlywed suite" and she wasn't allowed to touch anything.
He turned his gaze back to Yu Mo. Seeing her pick out a single noodle and slowly suck it into her mouth made him want to grab the chopsticks and shove the food in for her.
“Are those boxes yours or the landlord’s?”
“Mine. There’s no room for them, so I haven't opened them since I moved in.”
“That’s a lot of stuff.”
“Just useless things. Clothes, shoes, and bags.”
Those things were the remnants of her past life, now daily reminders of her current predicament.
Qi Lian glanced at the boxes, estimating the volume of their contents.
He couldn't help but ask, “What about your parents? Don't you have any friends? You’re sick and you can’t even get a decent meal.”
Yu Mo had already set down the plastic bowl and lied back on the bed. Hearing this, she replied, “Qi Lian, don't worry about me.”
She spoke slowly, almost syllable by syllable, and then draped an arm over her eyes.
Qi Lian stepped closer, about to speak, when he saw a droplet roll down her cheek toward her ear. Then another, and another. Those tears seemed to sear his eyes. The irritation in his heart flared up like a wildfire, but he had no way to vent it.
He forced himself to be patient and asked in a low voice, “What are you crying for? If something’s wrong, just say it.”
Yu Mo didn't move. If it weren't for the tears forming a small stream, one would have thought she was asleep.
Qi Lian lowered his voice even further, afraid of startling her. “Did I say something to upset you? Fine, I won't ask. If you don't have friends, you don't have friends. If you need something, just tell me.”
Yu Mo didn't take the olive branch. Her voice was thick with tears. “Qi Lian, don't worry about me. I don't want you to see me cry. Just go. Go now.”
Without a word, Qi Lian walked out and pulled the door shut. Standing in the hallway, he could hear her muffled sobs, rising and falling. A string in his heart pulled tighter and tighter, the pain making it impossible for him to walk away.
Weak from her illness, Yu Mo eventually cried herself to sleep. She was woken later by the ringing of her phone.
Without opening her eyes, she fumbled for the phone and answered.
“Come open the door,” Qi Lian’s voice said.
Yu Mo felt a sense of unreality, wondering if she was dreaming. But why would she dream of him?
Qi Lian added, “No rush. Take your time.”
She crawled out of bed to open the door, feeling much better than she had before her nap.
Qi Lian was standing outside. The motion-sensor light was dim, and with the light behind him, he was just a dark silhouette. Without a word, he entered and took her arm, guiding her back to her room.
In the shared kitchen, other tenants were stir-frying, the oil sizzling loudly. It was already dinner time.
After helping her sit on the edge of the bed, Qi Lian opened a thermal container and set out the rice and dishes. “Eat something,” he told her. “No matter what, you have to eat your fill.”
Yu Mo looked at him, then at the spread of food. Her eyes were still slightly swollen from crying.
Qi Lian nudged her. “Eat. Why are you just sitting there like a statue? Don't tell me you don't eat fish. That’s all I had in my fridge today.”
Yu Mo took a sip of the fish soup. The steam made her eyes feel hot. She hadn't tasted home-cooked food like this since she moved out.
She watched as a tear fell into the milky white soup, creating a tiny ripple, followed by another.
Qi Lian was at a loss. Why the hell did women love to cry so much? Hadn't she been fine a second ago? He leaned against the wall, gritting his teeth and pretending not to notice.
“I didn't know what you liked, so I only put in ginger,” he said.
“I don't eat cilantro, but anything else is fine. The food is delicious, Qi Lian,” she replied softly.
Tiny bubbles of warmth began to rise in his chest. Watching her eat the fish in small bites gave him a strange sense of satisfaction.
“Have a few more bites of rice,” he heard himself say. He could hardly believe the words were coming out of his mouth; he sounded like the old lady downstairs chasing her grandson to feed him.
Feeling awkward, he shifted his weight and leaned against a different part of the wall.
Yu Mo carefully gathered the fish bones onto a tissue and looked up at him. “Qi Lian, are you taking care of me because of Jiang Qingfeng?”
She stared at him with her swollen eyes, her gaze intense, as if she wouldn't let him go without an answer.
*Dammit!*
Qi Lian straightened up, a shadow crossing his already unfriendly eyes. He replied crudely, “If I’m taking this much care of another man’s girlfriend, should I be sleeping with her for him too?”
Yu Mo’s eyes widened. Stung by his vulgarity, she lowered her head in embarrassment.
“Why do you have to talk like that, Qi Lian?”
Qi Lian ran a frustrated hand through his hair.
“I’m just that kind of person. I talk rough like this all the time. So don’t provoke me, Yu Mo.”
***
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