Adopting Myself from the Young Heiress - Chapter 15

The air was stiflingly humid.

An Chixu blinked, her vision shifting sluggishly. A hazy layer of tears blurred her eyes, no matter how hard she tried to focus.

These were physiological tears brought on by her high fever. The thin film clung stubbornly, never drying completely, leaving the tip of her nose stinging and making it hard to tell if she actually wanted to cry.

After all, she couldn’t clearly see whether the figure kneeling beside her was a ghost, a figment of longing, a robber intent on murder, or Yan Ciwei.

It’s probably the former, An Chixu thought hazily.

She had no idea how high her fever was. Even her hot breath seemed to carry the same crimson hue as the mole beneath Yan Ciwei’s eye.

She had just finished longing for Yan Ciwei. There was no way she could receive such a swift response.

She hoped it wasn’t Yan Ciwei.

It was just a fever; she could handle it alone.

Yet her ways of sensing Yan Ciwei had never been limited to one.

An Chixu deliberately slowed her breathing, allowing the delicate fragrance of jasmine snow buds to gradually penetrate her congested nostrils.

A gentle wiping sensation on her forehead. Through the towel, fingers caressed her with tenderness, like a mother caring for her daughter.

The stifling early summer air hung heavy and still. When An Chixu blinked again to refocus, the world seemed to shrink to the sound of two breaths: hers, rough and labored, and Yan Ciwei’s, quiet and delicate.

It’s Yan Ciwei.

An Chixu tilted her head slightly, the small movement feeling like a monumental effort.

Yan Ciwei’s hand pressed perfectly against An Chixu’s cheek. A wave of coolness flowed from her palm into An Chixu’s feverish mind.

Yan Ciwei was still so cold. Instinctively, An Chixu leaned closer, seeking relief from the burning pain of her fever, and slowly let out a meaningless murmur.

Yan Ciwei carefully applied a fever patch to An Chixu’s forehead, cupped her flushed cheeks for two minutes, then withdrew her hand to dip it into the ice water beside her.

She repeated this process again and again.

Until An Chixu dreamed of Yan Ciwei once more, opened her eyes, and stared directly at her.

Only then did Yan Ciwei stop this inefficient method of cooling her down.

Her hands were already red, almost purple from the ice water. Yet they still retained a trace of An Chixu’s warmth, not quite cold enough to ache.

An Chixu was more awake now and tried to sit up, but Yan Ciwei’s reddened hand gently pressed her back down.

“It’s alright, Tuantuan. Get some rest,” Yan Ciwei said, having already taken charge of everything. She wanted An Chixu to stop worrying.

“…How did you get here?” An Chixu asked, her tone resistant.

“If I remember correctly, Tuantuan, this is my home,” Yan Ciwei replied, her eyebrows arching in exasperation.

That wasn’t what An Chixu meant, but Yan Ciwei deliberately avoided answering the real question.

Their gazes locked, intense and heated. An Chixu mustered her last reserves of strength, channeling it into a dismissive glare that crackled against Yan Ciwei’s eyes.

Perhaps stung by the intensity, Yan Ciwei finally relented with a sigh. “Good girl, Tuantuan… When you didn’t call in sick and didn’t come to work, of course I knew something was wrong.”

Yan Ciwei’s fingertips, still cool, brushed across An Chixu’s eyelids, lightly touching her lashes.

“Thirty-nine point four degrees Celsius—such a high fever, Tuantuan. Did you even think of me?” Yan Ciwei asked, her voice soft. After all, she was the best at taking care of her little cat. An Chixu knew that firsthand.

Yan Ciwei seemed to cherish every opportunity to call An Chixu “Tuantuan” in her presence, refusing to let a single chance slip by.

“Tuantuan, Tuantuan…”

An Chixu closed her eyes, biting her lip to suppress a groan of pain.

“…Phone,” she managed to reply, referring to the phone lying nearby with her undialed call.

“Tuantuan” was Yan Ciwei’s pet name for An Chixu. Only they knew it, only Yan Ciwei used it, and every time An Chixu heard it, her heart would flutter. Once, that flutter had been pure joy.

An Chixu heard a derisive chuckle.

Yan Ciwei removed the slightly warm towel, readjusted the fever patch, and placed it back on her Tuantuan’s forehead. Then, brushing aside a strand of hair behind An Chixu’s ear, she leaned down, ignoring how the jasmine snow bud fragrance clinging to her body enveloped An Chixu, stifling her breath.

A dry, fleeting kiss landed on the tip of An Chixu’s nose.

The tickle made An Chixu twitch involuntarily, her eyes snapping open.

“I’ll go warm up some porridge for you,” Yan Ciwei said, stroking An Chixu’s cheek one last time before leaving the bedroom under her hazy gaze.

Yan Ciwei didn’t close the door.

An Chixu stared blankly in the direction Yan Ciwei had left for a long time before realizing that Yan Ciwei hadn’t checked her phone either.

Yan Ciwei had prepared a sick person’s meal earlier, so all she needed to do now was reheat it.

She took a small spoonful to check the temperature, confirming it was just right, and was about to pour it into a small bowl when a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind.

The arms were weak and shockingly hot, as if the bones within had melted in the extreme heat.

Yan Ciwei’s heart felt like it was melting too. She wanted to turn around, but she was trapped between the stove and An Chixu in the cramped space.

“You didn’t need to come,” An Chixu’s voice was as soft as cotton, muffled and damp like the moldy humidity of the rainy season.

Yan Ciwei paused for a moment.

Still, she turned to face her stubborn little cat.

She had hoped to see An Chixu’s head tilted back against her neck, her beloved cat looking up at her with those clear, innocent eyes, just like when they were sixteen.

But An Chixu was taller now.

Even with her legs weak and aching from the fever, An Chixu stood level with her, no longer looking up with wide eyes, trying to imprint the best version of Yan Ciwei into her memory.

The twenty-five-year-old An Chixu lowered her gaze, her almond-shaped eyes devoid of light.

Yan Ciwei bit her lip hard, resolutely ignoring the pain.

She held the unsteady Tuantuan close. An Chixu’s waist felt softer than ever, her boneless body clinging to Yan Ciwei’s arms like viscous liquid, slowly sliding downward.

Yan Ciwei pulled An Chixu closer, draping her over her shoulder, and used her free hand to scoop up the warm congee.

Spoonful by spoonful, she slowly fed the hot congee to An Chixu, who was now trapped in her embrace.

An Chixu didn’t resist. She opened her mouth, tacitly accepting Yan Ciwei’s “visit.”

The porridge was An Chixu’s favorite flavor: corn and lean pork, perfectly balanced between savory and sweet.

Only Yan Ciwei could make it this way. After their breakup, An Chixu tried countless restaurants and even attempted to recreate the recipe herself, but she could never replicate that exact taste.

In the past, Yan Ciwei would fulfill her every whim, even when she wasn’t sick.

…And now, it was the same.

An Chixu sank deeper into despair.

The suffocating sensation felt like drowning. The porridge was the choking water, slowly filling her lungs.

She couldn’t fall into the abyss; a hand still held her back.

Yan Ciwei.

Yan Ciwei, her arm around An Chixu’s waist, finished feeding her the bowl of porridge and effortlessly lifted her into her arms.

Sick people always feel heavier. An Chixu, too weak to wrap her arms around Yan Ciwei’s neck as she used to, clung tightly to her chest.

Yan Ciwei held her securely, even more steadily than when she drove her car—not a single bump.

Only the quiet footsteps echoed through the room.

“…You’ve lost so much weight.” Perhaps Yan Ciwei spoke without thinking.

Or perhaps An Chixu was hallucinating.

The words were so soft they vanished instantly, dispersed by the warmth of her breath.

An Chixu closed her eyes and quietly tugged on Yan Ciwei’s sleeve.

Yan Ciwei’s care was truly comforting.

The neatly organized living room, the mold-free wallpaper, the meticulously categorized documents, the readily available medication… and the sick leave she had arranged for her, along with her constant presence.

Though An Chixu didn’t know if Yan Ciwei had cleaned her notoriously messy guest room—the cat room where Orange lived—there wasn’t a single cat hair to be seen anywhere in the house.

Yan Ciwei’s meticulousness surpassed even the best cleaning services. She understood An Chixu’s home—their home—better than anyone.

An Chixu no longer needed to think or exert herself.

Her carelessly tossed remotes and tea sets would be tidied away. Any sudden moldy corners would be promptly cleaned. Lost documents would reliably reappear in the study. Even a single cough would be met with attentive concern.

The only thing An Chixu needed to do was give her love.

Humans are inherently lazy.

As Yan Ciwei gently laid her back on the bed, An Chixu drifted into thought.

For two years, she had fought against her own tendency toward dependence, yet now it seemed all her efforts were about to crumble.

Could she truly never overcome Yan Ciwei? Was she destined to remain her little cat forever?

Yan Ciwei, holding the medicine, drew closer.

An Chixu knew what she wanted.

She had a hundred reasons to refuse: they weren’t together anymore, she hated Yan Ciwei, she was contagious…

Yet she closed her eyes.

Their lips met.

The medicine, warmer than porridge, slowly flowed into An Chixu’s mouth.

Not bitter, but faintly sweet, with the delicate fragrance of jasmine snow bud tea.

Yan Ciwei cradled An Chixu’s head, guiding her to swallow the medicine comfortably.

The medicine was gone.

Yan Ciwei had run out of excuses.

It was time for her to leave. An Chixu trembled, her eyelashes fluttering as she waited.

The kiss deepened.

An Chixu tilted her head slightly, wanting to pull away.

But it was too late.

Yan Ciwei had already settled herself on top of her, half-embracing, half-pulling her into her arms.

Slowly, she extended her tongue.

An Chixu let out a soft murmur, her hands clutching Yan Ciwei’s waist in confusion.

Yan Ciwei didn’t dare pause, steadily deepening the kiss.

An Chixu had grown up so much.

Yet some habits remained unchanged.

Back then, An Chixu had loved to grip Yan Ciwei’s waist during kisses, shyly sending her tongue forward in a playful game of hide-and-seek.

She was timid and easily embarrassed, still unable to express her desires or understand what she truly wanted.

Yan Ciwei had to guide her, little by little, then as now.

Fortunately, Yan Ciwei excelled at guiding.

She didn’t rush, still testing whether An Chixu accepted her boldness.

An Chixu showed no further reaction, frozen in place just as she had been the year Yan Ciwei had forced that kiss.

Yan Ciwei chuckled inwardly.

An Chixu was still her Tuantuan, after all.

A little cat clinging to her out of habit.

Cats were like that—they needed a little coercion. Otherwise, they’d remain too cunning and insecure to ever let anyone get close.

If she felt uncomfortable, she’d run away.

An Chixu undoubtedly had the strength to push her away, but she did nothing.

Yan Ciwei, slightly relieved, deepened the kiss.

She explored, gently biting An Chixu’s lip as she tilted her head.

The grip around her waist suddenly tightened.

Was she going to be bitten? Yan Ciwei’s heart pounded with nervous anticipation, the pain only fueling her excitement.

But An Chixu had merely regained some strength from the porridge Yan Ciwei had fed her, and now she held her tighter.

She responded with fierce enthusiasm, deepening the kiss to the point where they could barely breathe.

Soft moans escaped An Chixu’s lips, making Yan Ciwei’s heart race wildly.

The guiding hand was gone.

An Chixu, unsure of what to do, kissed her haphazardly until her strength gave out.

She slumped into Yan Ciwei’s arms. Yan Ciwei, her face flushed and her breath ragged, steadied her firmly.

She wanted more. Another kiss, deeper kisses, endless kisses.

She wanted… An Chixu’s love.

An Chixu weakly raised a hand and touched Yan Ciwei’s lip, reddened from her bite.

It felt like a restraint.

Yan Ciwei froze obediently, her pupils shrinking abruptly.

“Actually… I’ve missed you too.” The moment had slipped away.

This inertia, this dependence, was like mold in the rainy season.

No matter how meticulously An Chixu cleaned when she lived alone, she couldn’t stop it from growing in the shadows, slowly creeping across the entire house.

Only Yan Ciwei’s presence could truly eradicate it.