Incurable Chapter 18 Part 1

Mu Wan’s fever had scrambled her thoughts. She saw Liu Qianxiu’s lips curve, just a shallow arc, but it felt like a small boat drifting onto her lonely heart.

She tried to see it more clearly, eyes widening.

Two pills were offered to her. She bit down without thinking. Her tongue brushed the tablets… and brushed the palm holding them too, dry and cool.

Mu Wan was burning up. Her tongue was scorching. It grazed his palm, soft and wet. When she pulled back, the air shifted, and the spot she’d licked turned cold.

Liu Qianxiu lowered his lashes, withdrew his hand, and offered the bottle opening. Like a kitten, she lowered her head and drank two quick mouthfuls.

The pills still hadn’t gone down. Mu Wan’s small face scrunched into a knot. She hugged the bottle with one hand and tipped her head back, gulping twice more.

Even after that, her brow stayed furrowed. Fine sweat beaded at her hairline, not sure if it was heat or bitterness.

“Have some sugar,” Liu Qianxiu said, watching her knitted brows.

“Not bitter.” A chill sweat broke over her body. She forced her face to relax, pulled the cotton-candy bouquet into her arms, and insisted, “Really not bitter.”

Her nasal tone was heavier now. Clutching the cotton candy, her energy clearly sagged. Outside, someone said, “It’s raining again,” and the slow-moving crowd quickened. Under the streetlights, rain threads wove tighter and tighter.

“Let’s go back,” Liu Qianxiu said.

“We haven’t eaten,” Mu Wan protested.

“Are you hungry?” Liu Qianxiu asked.

Mu Wan thought, then shook her head. She had no appetite during the fever.

“Come on.” Liu Qianxiu guided her out and hailed a cab.

The cab was cold. Mu Wan was burning. She leaned against the window and traced a finger along raindrops as they gathered, merged, then slid down. The droplets left long trails of water as the commercial street’s lights flickered outside.

Drowsy, Mu Wan heard Liu Qianxiu give the driver an address. She closed her eyes.

The commercial street was close to Wen City Hotel. A few minutes later, the cab stopped at the entrance. The meter printed a receipt with a harsh, tearing sound.

“Your girlfriend doesn’t feel well, huh? Looks like she fell asleep.” The driver ripped the receipt free and handed it to Liu Qianxiu.

Liu Qianxiu glanced at Mu Wan, eyes closed, leaning against the door. He took the receipt and explained evenly.

“She has a fever.”

He paid, thanked the driver, got out, and then walked around to Mu Wan’s side. He lifted his hand and tapped the window lightly.

Mu Wan hadn’t fallen fully asleep. She opened her eyes and looked out.

Liu Qianxiu stood by the car, calm, looking down at her. Once she was awake, he opened the door. Mu Wan pitched forward with the motion and was steadied by his hand.

His palm was large against her thin shoulder. Through the cotton T-shirt, temperature met temperature, cool and hot colliding.

“We’re here,” Liu Qianxiu said, straightening her.

“Okay.” Mu Wan coughed and stepped out, hugging her cotton-candy bouquet.

The fever medicine had started to work. Once inside the lobby, Mu Wan’s pace slowed noticeably. When the elevator arrived, Liu Qianxiu stepped in, and Mu Wan followed.

The elevator was huge and empty except for them. Liu Qianxiu pressed his floor and turned as if to ask hers—

Before he could, his left shoulder sank slightly.

Liu Qianxiu’s gaze shifted.

Mu Wan couldn’t hold herself up anymore. She stood straight, cotton candy in her arms, but her head tipped over and rested against his shoulder. Eyes closed, lips pressed tight, long lashes casting a soft shadow.

Liu Qianxiu looked away and pressed the button again. The doors hadn’t closed when footsteps approached, and the doors reopened. Four or five people entered.

Leading them was a tall, slender, short-haired woman speaking on the phone. As she stepped in, she swept her eyes over the elevator, pausing on Liu Qianxiu and Mu Wan, then settling on the cotton-candy “bouquet” in Mu Wan’s arms.

A flicker of emotion crossed her eyes. Her long, narrow gaze lifted; the small tear mole at the corner of her eye rose with it. The others filed in, pressed their floors, and the doors shut—closing her voice into the tight space.

“…Don’t send flowers to the set anymore. It disrupts filming, people complain. No, it’s not that I don’t like them…”

Her voice was soft, intimate. As she spoke, her eyes drifted toward Mu Wan. Mu Wan kept her eyes closed, expression unchanged, as if she hadn’t heard a thing.

Ding.

Fifteen.

The doors opened. Liu Qianxiu turned his head and called softly, “Mu Wan.”

She didn’t stir. Her breathing was steady, deep. She was fully asleep.

“Sorry,” he said quietly as the elevator chimed its closing warning. He slipped an arm around Mu Wan’s waist, lifted—

And carried her bridal-style out of the elevator without hesitation.

In the small elevator, the cotton candy’s sweetness seemed to linger. Someone let out a soft, impressed “Wow.”

Mu Qing’s eyes flicked. Her young assistant’s dreamy expression vanished instantly; she lowered her head.

Liu Qianxiu carried Mu Wan to his room. He asked a staff member in the hallway to open the door with a card. Once inside, he placed Mu Wan on the bed.

He switched on the bedside lamp. Light pooled over her.

Fever was miserable. Even asleep, Mu Wan’s brows were knit, breath heavy but even, drawing in cool air and exhaling burning heat.

Liu Qianxiu stood by the bed and pressed a hand to her forehead.

Still hot.

But she’d taken medicine. After sleeping, she would be better.

Outside, the rain grew heavier, tapping sharply against the glass.

Liu Qianxiu withdrew his hand and let his gaze settle on the cotton-candy bouquet still clutched in her arms.

A huge bundle, three layers—white, blue, red—perfect and full, as if it had just been made. Mu Wan’d said it was the sweetest “flowers” she’d ever received, yet even after swallowing bitter medicine, she hadn’t taken a single bite.

His lashes trembled. He lifted the cotton candy and set it upright in the mouth of the glass cup she’d used last time.

Then he went to the desk. He didn’t open the laptop. He took out a book instead.

Only two lights glowed in the room now—one by the bed, one by the desk. Between those circles of light stood a cup holding cotton candy like a ridiculous centerpiece.

Silence spread.

Liu Qianxiu read, face calm, eyes light. The rain outside gradually faded from awareness. Only the deep, steady sound of breathing remained, like someone exhaling damp warmth straight onto his heart.

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