EIP 48

Second young master Zhou had another major illness on Tuesday. Unlike last year, it was severe, with a high fever that made him babble nonsensically. His condition kept deteriorating, leaving him weaker each day.
He became so emaciated that it frightened the Zhou family. Zhou Yan canceled several social engagements, and both traditional and Western doctors took turns attending to him. His sister-in-law went to the Guanyin Temple in the west of the city every day to pray, donating a significant amount of money for incense.

Zhou Jun knew none of this. All he knew was that he was too tired and heartbroken. With injuries, a cold, and the emotional strain, he collapsed. The servants said that before the second young master fell ill, he had asked them to clean the room. But when they had barely removed the bedcovers, the young master ordered them all out. He locked himself in the room, and no one knew what he had done inside.

The next day, the bedroom was filled with empty bottles, and the second young master lay in bed, covered with a blanket, passed out drunk. The window was cracked open just a little, yet cold air still blew in sporadically. When the servants cleaned him up, they noticed he was covered in dust, his pajamas were creased as if he had been through a struggle, and one of his shoes was missing. It was finally found on the stone platform outside the window.

The servants looked at the shoe and then at the marks on the young master’s body, and doubt inevitably began to rise in their minds. Could it be that he drank so much and tried something reckless? Fortunately, nothing happened to him. Otherwise, the eldest young master would have skinned them alive. Thankfully, this second young master had stopped himself before things got worse and at least managed to return to bed. Little did they know, Zhou Jun had avoided falling out the window but couldn’t escape this severe illness.

In the second young master’s room, the charcoal fire burned day and night, filling the space with warmth, and a lot of medicine had been boiled. The Zhou family was in a state of chaos, with everyone in a frenzy, while Zhou Jun, engulfed in cotton-like fatigue, slept soundly, unwilling to open his eyes.

In his dream, he opened the window to look for Yong Jin, the cold-hearted, cruel man who had walked away. To his surprise, the man returned, panicked, and caught him just as he was about to fall out of the window.

The man was even angrier than he was, his face dark with fury, as if he wanted to hit him but didn’t know where to begin. But in the dream, Zhou Jun took control. He slapped Yong Jin hard across the face, adding fresh marks to the young general’s already battered cheeks.

After venting his frustration, Zhou Jun regretted it. He grabbed Yong Jin’s collar and mumbled for him not to leave. It felt so vivid he could almost smell Yong Jin’s scent, feel his arms holding him, hear him whispering apologies. Gentle kisses landed on his face, finally brushing his lips. The bitterness in his mouth was bearable, and the warmth of the hand on his chin was soothing. He clung to the dream, unwilling to wake.

But like all good dreams, it ended without warning. The warmth vanished in an instant. Zhou Jun jolted, trying to grasp what was already gone. He opened his eyes wide, the feeling still lingering, as if the scent of that person remained in the air. He lay there staring at the ceiling, dazed and unsure where he was or what time it might be.

He had little strength left in him, the blanket heavy and suffocating. He was sweating profusely. There was still a lingering taste of medicine in his mouth. Slowly, his eyes shifted, and from the doorway, he heard something shatter. His sister-in-law rushed in, her handkerchief pressed to her mouth, her eyes red. Her voice seemed muffled, as though coming from behind a veil of water. Behind her was someone else, but Zhou Jun didn’t have the energy to see their face before fatigue overtook him again, and he drifted back to sleep.

When he woke again, he had regained some clarity. The heavy blanket had been replaced by a light, airy cover, and the room was ventilated, filled with the refreshing scent of incense. A vase had been placed on the bedside table, holding a large bouquet of flowers. He hadn’t spoken for a long time. His throat felt raw. Fortunately, the person sitting beside him understood, offering him warm water to moisten his lips before gently pulling it away again.

Zhou Jun’s eyes felt dry and gritty. He glanced at the person who had poured him water and forced a smile. Miss Yang smiled back, gently wiping the sweat from his forehead. She spoke softly.

“I’m afraid you’ll drink too quickly. I’ll give you more in a moment.”

His sister-in-law quietly closed the door and looked at her husband standing outside, his brow furrowed.

“They’re talking. You don’t need to go in just yet.”

Zhou Yan relaxed his brow slightly as he looked at his wife.

“I’ll step out for a moment. Give him the bird’s nest I brought back to help him recover.”

He then grumbled angrily.

“Worthless thing.”

The woman had long grown accustomed to her husband’s contradictory nature. She gently rubbed his arm and hesitated before speaking.

“You were so harsh with Major General Yong earlier. Zhou Jun might not be happy about it.”

Zhou Yan let out a cold laugh.

“Don’t you dare tell that spineless bastard he was here.”

His wife, with a headache, nodded in agreement and gently nudged him away from the door.

The room was quiet. Zhou Jun had rested enough and sat up from the bed, drinking half a cup of tea. His voice was hoarse as he asked,

“Why are you here?”

Miss Yang answered gently.

“You’ve been sick for so long. Of course, I had to come.”

Zhou Jun looked down at his pale nails and gave a weak smile. His usual pride and charm were gone, replaced by a sense of defeat and exhaustion. The illness had drained the light from his eyes, and Miss Yang felt a deep sadness for him. While he was still asleep, she sat quietly in the room, planning to read a book. But she ended up finding an album of sketches.

It was a secret she was never meant to find. Inside were sketches of the person Zhou Jun cared about, mixed with scattered images of objects and scenery. The face was never shown clearly, only fragments. A pair of eyes, a hand holding a cigarette, the corner of a sleeve. But together, those small details formed a whole. Miss Yang still couldn’t tell who it was, but the tenderness in each stroke made her heart ache.

She lifted the corners of her lips and asked Zhou Jun,

“Do the flowers smell good? You’ve been lying down for a while. Why don’t we take a walk around the garden?”

Zhou Yan, who was superstitious about his business, kept a pond of koi in the garden. Zhou Jun strolled to the pond, and though Miss Yang wanted to offer her help, she was gently brushed aside. Zhou Jun seemed unaware of her disappointment and smiled.

“Do you want to feed the fish?”

Miss Yang nodded, and Zhou Jun, pulling out half a piece of bread from somewhere, handed it to her. With a mischievous grin, like a child, he said,

“Elder Brother doesn’t let me feed them this, but let’s feed them secretly.”

As long as Zhou Jun was happy, Miss Yang was more than willing to do whatever he wanted. Unfortunately, the weather quickly turned bad, and rain followed soon after.

The two of them took shelter in the pavilion. Miss Yang looked at the damp edges of her skirt and gently wiped her slightly wet cheek with a handkerchief. Zhou Jun was facing sideways, watching the scenery outside, when he suddenly turned toward her and asked,

“When I was sick, were you the only one here?”

Miss Yang froze for a moment, unsure how to answer. Zhou Jun gave a faint smile.

“I mean, before I woke up, besides my sister-in-law, was there anyone else in my room?”

Miss Yang nervously twisted the handkerchief in her hands. Her mind went to the sketchbook, the helpless look on Zhou Jun’s face when he woke up, and then to the memory of the student protest in the street. When the gunshot rang out, Zhou Jun had tightly gripped her hand. She recalled the show they saw together, a love story that slipped away before it could ever become real. It reminded her too much of Zhou Jun. She knew someone had been in his room before her, but instinct told her to keep it to herself.

Maybe it was the person Zhou Jun liked. Miss Yang didn’t know what had happened between them, but something in her couldn’t bear the thought of watching someone he loved slip away. Her fingers kept twisting the handkerchief as a dull ache filled her chest. In the end, she swallowed her words and simply said,

“No one. Did you dream of someone?”

Zhou Jun looked at her, pausing for a moment before giving a faint smile.

“Just a dream that felt a little too real.”

Miss Yang’s face went pale, her expression faltering, her eyes filled with things left unsaid. She almost wanted to speak again, but before she could, Zhou Jun stood up, reaching his hand out to feel the light drizzle. He turned back to her and said,

“Let’s go. It’s time to head back.”