The fever didn't show up like a dramatic villain.
It arrived like inconvenience.
A scratchy throat in the morning. A headache that felt like a finger pressing into the center of his skull. Heat gathering under his skin in a slow, stubborn way that made Jiang Yue irrationally angry, as if his body had joined the list of people trying to control him.
He told himself it was nothing.
He told himself it was just because he'd slept badly, because his brain had been chewing on Wei's threat like a bone.
Don't test me.
As if Jiang Yue had been doing anything else since birth.
By noon, he was sweating under his uniform. By afternoon, his eyes hurt when he looked at the board. Teacher Gao's voice sounded like it was coming from underwater, sharp and distant.
Xu Zhe leaned toward him during self-study and whispered, "You look like you're dying."
Jiang Yue glared weakly. "I'm evolving."
Xu Zhe frowned, the joking dropping out of his face. "Your face is red."
"It's my natural glow," Jiang Yue muttered.
Xu Zhe reached toward his forehead.
Jiang Yue slapped his hand away, too slow to be convincing. "Don't touch me."
Xu Zhe stared at him. "You're actually sick."
Jiang Yue leaned back, eyes half-lidded. "No. I'm just… annoyed."
Xu Zhe sighed. "Go to the clinic."
Jiang Yue scoffed. "So they can give me hot water and disappointment."
Xu Zhe's mouth tightened. "Seriously."
Jiang Yue waved him off.
He made it through the last period by pure stubbornness. When the bell rang, students surged out like released prisoners. Jiang Yue stayed seated for a moment, staring at his desk like it had betrayed him.
The room spun slightly when he stood.
He steadied himself on the chair and pretended it was normal.
Wei Nianzhan had already packed his bag. He stood at the front row, speaking quietly with Teacher Gao about an assignment. Calm. Controlled. Perfect.
Jiang Yue watched him from the back of the classroom and felt a dull irritation flare even through the fever haze.
Of course Wei was fine.
Wei didn't get fevers. Wei probably sweated in neat, scheduled drops.
Jiang Yue turned away and headed out.
He didn't wait.
He didn't want to walk home with Wei today. Not after last night's tension. Not when the air between them felt like a wire again.
He got as far as the staircase before his vision darkened slightly and his stomach rolled.
He grabbed the railing, breathing hard.
Footsteps approached behind him, measured.
Jiang Yue didn't need to turn to know who it was.
Wei's voice came, quiet. "Jiang Yue."
Jiang Yue straightened too fast and regretted it. "What," he snapped, trying to sound normal.
Wei stopped a step below him. He didn't reach out. He didn't touch. He just looked.
Wei's gaze swept over Jiang Yue's face, and something tightened in it.
"You're sick," Wei said.
Jiang Yue scoffed. "You're obsessed with observing."
Wei ignored it. "Did you go to the clinic."
Jiang Yue's head throbbed. "No."
Wei's jaw flexed. "Why."
Jiang Yue laughed softly. "Because I didn't feel like it."
Wei stared at him for a beat, then said, "Come."
Jiang Yue blinked. "Come where."
Wei's voice stayed calm. "Home."
Jiang Yue's irritation flared. "I know where home is."
Wei's gaze didn't move. "Then walk."
Jiang Yue hated that tone. Not loud, not angry, just… unarguable.
He forced a smirk. "You're really enjoying being my supervisor."
Wei's eyes narrowed slightly. "Stop talking."
Jiang Yue took a step down and nearly missed it. The stairs tilted like they were alive.
Before he could catch himself, Wei's hand landed on his elbow.
Firm.
Steady.
Jiang Yue froze.
His body reacted instantly, stupidly, like it remembered too much. Heat flared in his chest that had nothing to do with fever.
Wei's grip tightened for half a second, then loosened as if he'd realized the touch was dangerous.
"You can't even walk straight," Wei said, voice low.
Jiang Yue forced a laugh. "I'm experimenting."
Wei didn't respond. He simply stayed close enough that Jiang Yue couldn't fall without hitting him.
They walked home in silence.
The city felt too bright. Street sounds stabbed at Jiang Yue's skull. Every car horn sounded personal.
By the time they reached the apartment building, Jiang Yue was shaking.
In the elevator, Wei stood beside him, not touching, but close. Jiang Yue could smell his clean shampoo, and it made him irrationally angry because it smelled like calm.
The elevator doors opened.
Jiang Yue fumbled his keys, fingers clumsy.
Wei's hand reached out and took the keys smoothly.
Jiang Yue bristled. "I can—"
Wei cut him off quietly. "You can't."
He unlocked the door and guided Jiang Yue inside.
The apartment was quiet. Their parents weren't home yet. The living room light was off, curtains half drawn. The air smelled faintly like detergent and the last traces of wedding flowers that refused to die.
Jiang Yue kicked his shoes off and immediately swayed.
Wei caught his elbow again, firmer this time.
Jiang Yue's teeth clenched. "Stop catching me."
Wei's gaze snapped to him, dark. "Stop falling."
Jiang Yue stared at him, breath catching.
Then his fever surged, and the world softened at the edges.
He pulled his arm away with stubbornness that cost him balance. He made it down the hallway by sheer spite, aiming for his room like it was safety.
He got to the door and leaned against it, breathing.
Wei followed, stopping a step away like he was giving Jiang Yue one last chance to pretend he didn't need help.
Jiang Yue lifted his chin. "I'm fine."
Wei's eyes didn't soften. "Sit."
Jiang Yue scoffed. "Make me."
Wei's jaw flexed. For a second, he looked like he might actually do it, and that thought made Jiang Yue's stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with sickness.
Instead, Wei turned and walked away.
Jiang Yue exhaled in relief he didn't want to admit.
He pushed into his room and collapsed onto the edge of the bed.
His head pounded. His skin burned. His throat felt raw.
He lay back and stared at the ceiling, blinking slowly.
Minutes passed.
Then the door opened again.
Wei returned carrying a glass of water, a thermometer, and a small plastic bag that looked like it came from the pharmacy downstairs.
Jiang Yue stared at it, suspicious even in misery. "What is that."
Wei set the water down on the bedside table. "Medicine."
Jiang Yue laughed weakly. "You went out."
Wei's voice stayed calm. "Yes."
Jiang Yue narrowed his eyes. "Why."
Wei paused for a fraction.
Then he said, flat, "Because you'd get worse."
Jiang Yue swallowed, throat hurting. "So you're… being nice."
Wei's gaze flicked over his face, sharp. "Don't make it weird."
Jiang Yue smiled faintly. "Too late."
Wei ignored him and held out the thermometer. "Mouth."
Jiang Yue stared at it like it was an insult. "No."
Wei's eyes narrowed slightly. "Jiang Yue."
Hearing his name in that tone made Jiang Yue's pulse jump even through fever haze.
He snatched the thermometer and shoved it under his tongue like he was doing it out of spite.
Wei watched him, expression unreadable.
The silence stretched.
Jiang Yue felt his eyelids grow heavy. The thermometer pressed against his tongue, awkward.
His brain drifted.
Then, without thinking, he mumbled around the thermometer, "Why are you like this."
Wei's gaze sharpened. "Like what."
Jiang Yue swallowed painfully. "Like you care and then you pretend you don't."
Wei didn't answer.
The thermometer beeped.
Jiang Yue pulled it out and squinted at it without focus.
Wei took it from his hand and read it instantly. "Thirty-nine point two."
Jiang Yue scoffed weakly. "That's not that bad."
"That's high," Wei said.
He opened the medicine packet, poured pills into his palm, and held them out.
Jiang Yue stared at Wei's palm. For some reason, the sight of the pills looked intimate. Like trust disguised as obligation.
Jiang Yue's throat tightened.
"You're enjoying this," Jiang Yue accused, because accusing was safer than thanking.
Wei's mouth moved slightly. Not a smile. Not quite. "If I were enjoying it, I'd charge you."
Jiang Yue laughed, then coughed, the sound tearing at his chest. His eyes watered, humiliating.
Wei's gaze tightened.
For a second, his calm cracked. He almost reached out, then stopped himself like he'd hit an invisible rule.
Jiang Yue swallowed pills and chased them with water, grimacing.
Wei watched him like he was making sure Jiang Yue didn't choke, like he didn't trust him to do even this right.
Jiang Yue dropped back onto the pillow, breathing hard.
Wei didn't leave.
That was the most dangerous part.
Wei sat down on the edge of the bed, careful, controlled. The mattress dipped slightly.
Jiang Yue's whole body went stiff.
"What are you doing," Jiang Yue asked, voice hoarse.
Wei's voice was flat. "Making sure you don't pass out and crack your skull."
Jiang Yue scoffed. "I'm not that weak."
Wei's gaze held his. "Stop trying to prove something to me."
The words hit Jiang Yue's ribs.
He wanted to snap back, to fight, to keep control.
But the fever pulled at him like water pulling under.
His eyes grew heavy.
He turned his face toward the wall and muttered, "Go back to your perfect life."
Wei's silence lasted too long.
Then Wei's voice came low, and it almost slipped.
"I don't have a perfect life," Wei said.
The honesty landed like a shock.
Jiang Yue turned his head slowly, blinking.
Wei's face was half in shadow. His jaw was tight, like he'd bitten down on his own confession.
Jiang Yue's throat tightened. "Then what do you have."
Wei's gaze snapped to him, sharp.
For a second, Jiang Yue thought Wei would retreat.
Instead, Wei's hand lifted, hesitated, then settled lightly on Jiang Yue's forehead.
Cool fingers against burning skin.
Jiang Yue froze.
His body wanted to lean into it. His pride wanted to bite.
He did neither.
He lay still, breath shallow, letting the touch exist because he was too tired to fight it.
Wei's voice came quiet, controlled again. "Sleep."
Jiang Yue's mouth twitched. "Don't get used to this," he whispered. "Tomorrow I'm going to make your life hell again."
Wei's thumb shifted slightly at Jiang Yue's hairline, a touch so small it felt like a secret. "I know," Wei said.
Jiang Yue's eyes closed.
The fever swallowed him in waves.
In the last thin thread of awareness before sleep, Jiang Yue thought, distantly, that the most terrifying thing in the world wasn't getting sick.
It was being cared for by someone you weren't allowed to want.
And somewhere beside him, Wei Nianzhan stayed sitting on the edge of the bed far longer than he needed to, staring into the dim room like he was trying to decide how to keep control of something that had already slipped through his hands.