48: Notes from a Paranoid Educated Youth 17

Wen Ci noticed that Zhou Linchuan had been acting very strangely lately.

He no longer looked at her from afar with a cold face like before; instead, he started appearing around her frequently, approaching her with all sorts of excuses, and each time, he would subtly initiate physical contact with her.

When she was hanging clothes, he would “happen” to pass by and reach up to help her with the high clothesline.

When she went to the river to wash vegetables, he would squat nearby, sharpening his knife, and incidentally help her wash the vegetables.

Wen Ci vaguely guessed what he was trying to do, but she was still unsure.

It wasn’t until Zhou Linchuan, during another “chance encounter,” said, seemingly casually, “My kang… is warmer than yours.”

Wen Ci finally understood: he was awkwardly trying to get her to come back and live with him?

But she pretended not to understand, smiling and changing the subject.

Because it wasn’t enough yet.

This man was still restraining himself, still testing, and hadn’t revealed his true fangs.

Wen Ci knew that Zhou Linchuan was never a docile house dog.

He was a lone wolf.

His fur was hard and cold, his eyes sharp, his fangs hidden beneath restrained silence, only revealing his ferocity when his prey struggled.

And she, she specifically wanted to see him lose control.

She wanted to see him bare his fangs at her savagely, she wanted him to go crazy for her, she wanted him to break his own bottom line for her.

She wanted to see the real, dominant Zhou Linchuan.

So, she needed to give him some more stimulation.

That night.

The rain poured down, and thunder roared.

Wen Ci was curled up on the kang, her fringe damp and clinging to her cheeks, which were flushed with an unnatural redness.

She placed a cloth soaked in well water on her forehead, but after only a couple of applications, she took it off and tossed it aside, calculating in her mind.

It needed to be cool, but not too cool.

It needed to be hot, but not truly sick.

She huddled under a thin quilt for a while, then deliberately kicked the quilt aside, leaving only her thin shirt, soaked with cold sweat, clinging to her body, outlining her slender waist and alluring curves.

The sound of the rain outside masked the footsteps, but she knew.

He would definitely come.

Even if others didn’t know she had a fever, given Captain Zhou’s concentrated attention on her these past few days, he would certainly notice something was amiss when he realized she hadn’t left her house all day.

Sure enough, not long after, the window latch was gently pried open, and a dark figure climbed into the room, bringing with him the dampness of the rain and a biting chill.

Zhou Linchuan was drenched, his clothes clinging to his body, outlining his taut muscles.

He stood by the kang, his breathing slightly heavy, his gaze fixed on the woman on the bed, her eyes closed and her face flushed.

“Wen Ci.” His voice was low and hoarse as he reached out to touch her forehead.

Burning hot.

Not seeing her all day had made him feel terribly anxious.

So, after much deliberation, he bit the bullet and came over, climbing through the window.

This was something he would never have done before: climbing through a female comrade’s window.

He had probably guessed she might be sick, but he hadn’t expected it to be true.

So suddenly.

Zhou Linchuan's brows furrowed after touching Wen Ci's forehead, and an accidental glance revealed her current state: her clothes were thin and slightly damp.

It was simply too…

His pupils constricted, and he immediately averted his gaze, turning to rummage through the medicine box, his movements quick and urgent, as if afraid that another glance would make him lose control, or that another second’s delay would make her illness even worse.

Wen Ci felt the burning heat of the man’s hand, and with her eyes half-closed, she let out a weak whimper, “Zhou Linchuan, I’m cold…”

Zhou Linchuan’s breathing hitched, his Adam’s apple bobbed, but in the end, he still turned around and obediently pulled the quilt over her, wrapping her tightly so that not even her neck was exposed.

Yet, Wen Ci continued to whimper uncomfortably.

Beads of sweat rolled down her cheeks, sliding over her fair, jade-like skin, finally disappearing into the depths of her collar.

Zhou Linchuan stared uncontrollably at the trail of moisture, his Adam’s apple throbbing painfully.

“Take your medicine.” He forced himself to turn and pour a cup of warm water, helping her up, his voice cold and hard, but the palm supporting the back of her neck was frighteningly hot.

Wen Ci was supported into a sitting position, not using any strength herself, relying entirely on Zhou Linchuan to hold her.

She even deliberately didn't take the medicine, instead leaning softly into his arms, her forehead resting against his chest, tilting her head slightly so her breath fanned his collarbone.

“Zhou Linchuan…” Her voice trembled slightly, with the fragility of illness, “You feel so, so comfortable…”

The man’s muscles instantly tensed, his arms stiffly wrapped around her, as if holding a red-hot coal, neither daring to exert force nor willing to let go.

Hearing her say those two words, “so comfortable,” made his blood instantly boil.

“Stop it.” His voice was hoarse, carrying a warning, “Eat your medicine first.”

Wen Ci looked up at him with damp eyes, her lips crimson from the high fever, “Will you feed me, please?”

Zhou Linchuan’s jaw tightened, a terrifying darkness swirling in his eyes.

He held the pill to her lips, but Wen Ci sniffed and couldn’t help but frown, “It smells so bitter.” She pouted, her lips deliberately brushing against his fingertips.

“…”

Zhou Linchuan’s breathing suddenly deepened, and he abruptly clasped the back of her head, forcefully pushing the pill into her mouth.

“Eat it quickly… then it won’t be bitter.” His voice was frighteningly dry and hoarse.

But the next second, Wen Ci “choked.” She coughed lightly, looking even more fragile and pitiful, and drops of water slid from the corners of her lips.

Zhou Linchuan’s knuckles turned white.

Wen Ci looked at him innocently, “…It’s still so bitter.”

Zhou Linchuan’s mind instantly went blank, his thoughts racing.

He suddenly realized what he was thinking, and he sprang from the edge of the kang, stumbling back several steps.

As if Wen Ci on the kang was a man-eating demon.

Wen Ci was momentarily stunned, and without support, she softly lay back down, the thin quilt draped over her falling directly to the side.

“Captain Zhou, I’m so cold, please hold me.” Wen Ci blinked her eyes pitifully, looking especially endearing.

Zhou Linchuan abruptly turned his back to her, his breathing heavy as if he had just run ten miles of mountain road.

“Take your medicine and get some good sleep.” His voice was so low it was almost dangerous, “If you talk nonsense again, I’ll tie you up.”

Wen Ci pouted, wrapped herself tightly in the quilt, revealing only her damp eyes as she looked at him.

“Then don’t leave…” she whispered, “I’m scared of thunder.”

A massive clap of thunder boomed outside the room.

Zhou Linchuan’s back stiffened, and after a long moment, he said in a hoarse voice, “…Mm.”

He sat on the chair by the kang, his jacket already wet, but he seemed not to feel the cold, guarding Wen Ci motionlessly, his gaze deep, as if he wanted to engrave her image into his very bones.

“Zhou Linchuan… would you mind sitting a little closer? I’m still scared.”

Wen Ci leaned weakly against the head of the kang.

Zhou Linchuan was silent for a moment, then moved closer. Seeing that Wen Ci’s forehead was constantly beaded with cold sweat, he brought a towel and a basin with him.

Wen Ci reached out a fingertip and gently tugged his sleeve, her voice soft as melting honey,

“Captain Zhou, do you… like me?”

The halo of the kerosene lamp illuminated her pale face, and the shadows cast by her eyelashes trembled slightly, like a beautiful butterfly.

Zhou Linchuan’s breathing suddenly hitched.