MM | Chapter 74

Numb Legs

As a patient, Jiang Tian really had no self-awareness.

After finding the infirmary, Sheng Wang boiled a kettle of water to ensure there’d be hot water for medicine. When he came out, Jiang Tian was already up.

His backpack lay open on the bed, stuffed with the speech draft Sheng Wang had monopolized all night. Jiang Tian sat on the edge of the bed, holding the backpack strap, trying to steady his dizziness.

Hearing Sheng Wang’s footsteps, he said hoarsely, “Give me five minutes.”

“Five minutes for what?” Sheng Wang was puzzled. “Why are you getting up?”

Jiang Tian replied, “Class.”

Sheng Wang: “???”

“I already got you a leave, what class are you talking about? Lie down.” Sheng Wang strode over, trying to take the backpack, but Jiang Tian moved aside.

Jiang Tian opened his eyes and said, “It’s not that serious.”

“You’re in my hands now. Whether it’s serious or not, I decide.” Sheng Wang returned Jiang Tian’s words from before. He grabbed the other strap of the backpack, glaring. “Are you lying down or not? If not, I’ll strip your jacket off.”

Jiang Tian looked at Sheng Wang, a bit speechless, his gaze peeking through his disheveled hair. Perhaps due to his pale complexion, his eyes appeared darker, carrying a hint of illness.

After a moment, he realized this standoff was silly, looked away, and let go.

Sheng Wang immediately tossed the backpack to the top bunk.

“You lie down for a bit. The water’s boiling; it’ll take a few minutes—” Sheng Wang put on a jacket and pulled out a small sports bag from the cabinet, slinging it over his shoulder.

Before he could finish, Jiang Tian interrupted, “You’re going to class?”

“Huh?” Sheng Wang was taken aback. “No, I took leave too.”

“Then where are you going?”

Sheng Wang waved the campus map in his hand. “To the infirmary to get you medicine.”

Jiang Tian looked away, coughing a few times. “No need for medicine, just some hot water will do.”

“I’m boiling tap water, not some magical elixir.” Sheng Wang flipped up his collar to cover the lower half of his face. “If you keep this up, I’ll find a way to catch it myself, and then we’ll see who can beat the illness with sheer willpower.”

Jiang Tian: “…”

Seeing him finally lie back down, Sheng Wang left the room satisfied. The school infirmary was near the student dorms, a bit far from the faculty apartments in front of the mountain. He ran all the way there.

The infirmary didn’t have a lot of red tape; getting medicine for someone else was fine. There were two teachers on duty, and one asked, “What’s the situation? How did the fever start?”

“Probably from a cold shower.”

“A cold shower in this weather?”

Sheng Wang lowered his eyes, silent for a few seconds before nodding. “Yeah.”

The other teacher at the desk said, “You know, you’re the third one today. The faculty apartments had a water outage last night, and some really did shower with cold water. But those two just had sore throats, no fever.”

“Oh, I see. I thought it was another student faking sick leave.” The teacher apologized to Sheng Wang with a smile. “I’ll get the medicine for you, hang on.”

Probably to prevent misuse, the school infirmary didn’t give much medicine, but they did include a thermometer. Sheng Wang packed the medicine, and before the teacher could remind him that he could come back for an IV if recovery was slow, he was already bounding down the stairs, disappearing around the corner.

Sheng Wang rushed back to the dorm, and as soon as he opened the door, he caught someone not lying down as instructed. Jiang Tian stood by the sink, probably just finished washing up, holding a towel and smelling faintly of mint.

“Gotcha red-handed. Any excuses?” Sheng Wang was a bit hot from running. He placed the medicine and porridge on the table, rolled up his sleeves, and turned to catch Jiang Tian.

Jiang Tian, speechless, came out from the sink area. He stood by the table, taking two boxes of porridge from the bag and pushing one to Sheng Wang.

“The teacher said two pills at a time.” Sheng Wang was opening the medicine box when he suspiciously asked, “Did you use cold or hot water to wash your face?”

Jiang Tian paused while dividing the chopsticks, saying calmly, “Hot.”

Sheng Wang reached out to touch, finding it ice-cold.

Jiang Tian: “…”

Sheng Wang: “Do you take me for an idiot?”

Jiang Tian didn’t look up, handing him a spoon. “Eat your meal.”

Eat, my foot. What a way to change the subject, Sheng Wang thought. But whenever he heard Jiang Tian’s hoarse, tired voice, he couldn’t keep a straight face.

Young Master Sheng was meticulous when he was sick, but this was his first time taking care of someone else. Since Jiang Tian was the patient, he wanted to try every fever-reducing method possible, inevitably feeling a bit flustered.

He watched Jiang Tian drink porridge and take medicine, lying back down for the second time before sitting by the bed to change his shoes.

As soon as he stood up, someone grabbed his wrist.

“What now?” Jiang Tian asked.

“Going downstairs to buy some things,” Sheng Wang replied.

Jiang Tian’s hot fingers loosened, sliding down his wrist. He lifted the blanket. “I’ll go with you.”

“Why would you go?” Sheng Wang quickly covered the blanket edge. “I’m just buying some cotton swabs or pads. I saw alcohol by the sink; applying it might help reduce the fever faster.”

Jiang Tian frowned. “It’s not that complicated. Medicine is enough.”

“Auntie Sun used to apply some to my forehead and arms,” Sheng Wang said.

“I don’t need it.”

“Are you especially good at dissipating heat?”

“Yes.”

“…”

Every time Sheng Wang tried to do something more, Jiang Tian vetoed it, saying no, don’t, or stop. This person was usually cold and hard, and when sick, he was even more so.

At first, Sheng Wang thought he was just stubborn, unwilling to admit he was sick, or even if he was, wanting to appear especially healthy, recovering with just water.

Later, while leaning against the counter waiting for the water to boil, Sheng Wang searched for nearby places with suitable food for the sick, unknowingly staying in the kitchen for a while. During this time, Jiang Tian got out of bed twice, once saying he needed water and once saying he needed to wash his hands because he touched dust on the bed rail.

Sheng Wang couldn’t figure out how the dust got there. So he returned with the freshly boiled water to continue watching over him. This time he sat for a long while, and Jiang Tian didn’t ask for water or get out of bed again.

Until Jiang Tian finally succumbed to the medicine and fell asleep, Sheng Wang suddenly realized that his brother might not be prideful but rather a bit clingy when sick.

It wasn’t his fault for realizing it late; no one would associate “clingy” with Jiang Tian. But once you did, it had a peculiar effect.

Sheng Wang left the chair, leaning over the bed to peek. Jiang Tian was sleeping on his side, facing the wall, lips pressed into a line, looking as unapproachable as ever.

Sheng Wang silently calculated: who else had the chance to take care of Jiang Tian when he was sick, besides Old Man Ding and Jiang Ou? Would Jiang Tian act like this around them?

His intuition said no, but he also thought his intuition wasn’t humble enough.

Humbly speaking, he could rank in the top three.

The young master was instantly pleased, his long legs swinging the chair. But his joy didn’t last long because someone wasn’t a peaceful sleeper.

A person with a fever alternates between feeling cold and hot, often feeling stuffy while recovering. When Sheng Wang was sick, he would wrap himself tightly even in his sleep, but Jiang Tian was the opposite.

As he slept, the blanket slipped from his chin to his chest. Sometimes, feeling hot, his brow furrowed, he’d push the top half of the blanket down, tucking it under his arm.

In an hour, he did this six times, and Sheng Wang covered him six times, almost waking him in the process.

Finally, Sheng Wang stood by the bed, exasperated. “You forced me to do this.”

He pulled another blanket from the cabinet, adding a layer over Jiang Tian, tucking it in tightly… then climbed up himself.

He grabbed a pillow from the top bunk as a cushion, sitting against the wall with his legs stretched over Jiang Tian’s calves, pretending to be a weight.

From then on, Jiang Tian slept unusually still, not even turning over.

The spot was perfect, bathed in warm sunlight, making him feel lazy. Drowsy from reading his notes, he reached for the photo album from the top bunk.

There were only a dozen or so photos, but he lingered over them for a long time, long enough for Jiang Tian to wake up and sit beside him.

“Still feeling bad?” Sheng Wang touched his forehead, handing him an electronic thermometer. “Seems less hot than this morning.”

Jiang Tian sat beside him, the warmth of his skin transferring through the fabric. He placed the thermometer against his ear, saying, “Much better.”

The thermometer beeped, and he glanced at the reading, showing it to Sheng Wang. Under 38 degrees, much better than the morning.

“Hungry?” Sheng Wang asked.

Jiang Tian shook his head.

Sheng Wang said, “I’ll get you some water.”

As he was about to get up, Jiang Tian stopped him. “I don’t want to drink.”

Given his newfound understanding of “clingy,” Sheng Wang translated this to “sit with me for a while,” so he stayed put, not rushing to get up.

Jiang Tian looked at the open photo album and asked, “Why do you keep looking at this page?”

Sheng Wang pointed to the last photo with his back in it. “Feels like one is missing.”

Jiang Tian paused, asking, “Which one?”

Sheng Wang picked up his phone, capturing the moment Jiang Tian glanced at it.

In the photo, the two boys sat side by side, the bright, gentle light of early winter enveloping them, softening the traces of illness. Sheng Wang was smiling, eyes curved, full of youthful spirit. Jiang Tian had just looked up, his thin eyelids almost translucent in the sunlight. Quiet yet vibrant.

“Done.” Sheng Wang adjusted the photo, showing it to Jiang Tian. “Now it’s complete.”

“There’s just enough space below for another photo. I’ll print it out at a shop tonight.” He said, trying to shift his legs, but as he bent one, his expression turned indescribable.

“Damn, ah—”

Jiang Tian glanced at him. “What?”

“My legs are numb.”

Jiang Tian looked at his amused yet pained expression, asking, “Which leg?”

“Both.” Sheng Wang rested his head on the bent one. “Completely numb.”

Jiang Tian shook his head, exasperated, reaching to massage the muscle of his other leg. “How long did you sit like this?”

“Over two hours,” Sheng Wang mumbled.

“Didn’t think to change positions?”

“Forgot.”

…

Sheng Wang rested his head on his knee, letting Jiang Tian massage his stretched-out leg. After a while, he suddenly bent his knee, pressing Jiang Tian’s wrist. “Stop.”

Jiang Tian paused, turning to ask, “Better?”

“No.”

Sheng Wang answered, then fell silent, taking several seconds to lift his head. He released his grip, Jiang Tian’s warmth lingering on his leg for a moment before withdrawing.

For a long time after, neither spoke.

Sheng Wang bent his legs, resting his elbows on his knees. Amidst the drum-like heartbeat, he lowered his eyes, waiting for the surrounding ambiguity and restlessness to fade.

At some point, he vaguely realized that his relationship with Jiang Tian was a bit strange. Though they both understood each other, it still felt somewhat unclear, as if their closeness floated in the air, never quite landing.

He quietly pondered for a while, then suddenly nudged Jiang Tian’s fingers, saying, “Ge, what do you think we are now?”