Feverish Spring Night - Chapter 20

After the afternoon PE class, Jiang Zhier returned to her classroom to find a cup of iced milk tea sitting on her desk.
Since Cheng Jingwei’s phone call, Cheng Jiayao had been quiet for a week, not showing up in front of her. But once he returned to school, he started bringing her food and small gifts every day—never saying much, just silently leaving them for her.
This quickly reignited gossip across the school: Cheng Jiayao was pursuing Jiang Zhier.
After PE, Jiang Zhier was feeling parched. The area around the water dispenser was crowded, so assuming the milk tea was from Cheng Jiayao, she drank it without much thought.
She first began to feel unwell during the last English class. Tiny rashes appeared on her arms, followed by an unbearable itch spreading across her body and a growing tightness in her throat.
She raised her hand to tell the teacher she wasn’t feeling well, but before she could stand or speak, a wave of dizziness hit—and she collapsed.
A student fainting was no small matter, especially in this private high school where nearly every student came from a wealthy family.
Jiang Zhier’s cheeks were flushed, and beads of sweat dotted her forehead. Amid the commotion, the ambulance finally arrived at the school.
…
The news of Jiang Zhier fainting in class spread quickly throughout the school—and of course, it reached Cheng Jiayao’s ears as well.
He was in the middle of an exam in his final year of high school. A bit of a scatterbrain, he was already staring blankly at his test paper, feeling dizzy himself. The moment he heard the commotion in the hallway, he dropped his pen and sprinted downstairs.
He arrived just in time to see Jiang Zhier being carried into an ambulance, still unconscious.
A wave of panic hit him. Grabbing Shao Xu by the arm, he demanded, “What happened?”
Shao Xu looked stricken. “I don’t know either! Her arms broke out in red rashes, her face turned really red, and she was breathing so fast. She was perfectly fine during PE just now!”
“Did she eat anything?” Cheng Jiayao pressed.
“Nothing much… except for that strawberry milk tea you gave her after PE.”
“Strawberry milk tea?” His brows furrowed deeper.
“Yeah, didn’t you give it to her?”
Cheng Jiayao shook his head.
Shao Xu blinked, more confused than ever.
Ever since Cheng Jiayao had started pursuing Jiang Zhier so openly, other boys at school had stopped giving her love letters or gifts altogether.
“Did she finish drinking it?” Cheng Jiayao asked.
“Probably not. The cup’s still on her desk.”
Without another word, Cheng Jiayao turned and bolted toward the teaching building.
The dismissal bell rang just then, and a crowd of students poured out of the classrooms. Cheng Jiayao pushed through the stream of people, running against the flow, taking the stairs two at a time.
The ambulance was already en route to the hospital. While running, Cheng Jiayao pulled out his phone and called Cheng Jingwei.
Fortunately, the call connected almost immediately.
“Second Uncle,” he said breathlessly, “Er’er’s been taken to the hospital. Please come quickly.”
Cheng Jingwei’s voice turned cold. “What happened?”
“We’re not sure yet. She fainted in class. But her classmates said the symptoms looked like anaphylactic shock.”
Cheng Jiayao had suffered from severe pollen allergies as a child; he knew exactly how dangerous anaphylaxis could be—life-threatening if untreated.
“I think it’s something she ate,” he said, rushing up the stairs. “I’m going to her classroom to get the milk tea she drank.”
He thought identifying the allergen directly might save precious time, allowing doctors to act faster.
But what he didn’t expect was to see Jiang Chen—who should have been on the first-year floor—standing alone in the empty classroom of Class 1, Grade 11.
And in his hand was that cup of lemon black tea.
Cheng Jiayao instantly understood.
He charged forward, yanked the drink from Jiang Chen’s hand, and shoved him hard against the wall. “Was it you?!”
Jiang Chen’s face turned pale. “How could it be me!” he blurted, denying it before anyone had even accused him.
That reaction said it all.
Though Cheng Jiayao was usually mild-mannered for someone of his background, the Qian family bl00d still ran in him—and when his face darkened, his presence was unmistakably intimidating.
He towered over Jiang Chen, his build much stronger and more athletic. Grabbing him by the arm, he dragged him out of the classroom with effortless force.
Everyone nearby froze, watching in shock as Cheng Jiayao hauled Jiang Chen down the hallway toward the school gate.
Whispers spread quickly. Seeing the two of them together immediately made people think of Jiang Zhier.
Tang Peiwen, waiting in her car for her son, looked up just in time to see the scene. She rushed over in her heels.
“Jiayao, what are you doing?” she demanded, struggling to keep her composure. “If there’s any misunderstanding, we can talk it out. The elders all know each other—our families have so many partnerships. Can’t we handle this peacefully?”
Cheng Jiayao shot her a cold look. “The Cheng family has plenty of partners. We’ve never needed the Jiang family. Now that Jiang Chen dares to harm Er’er, what’s there to talk about?”
At the mention of Jiang Zhier’s name, Tang Peiwen’s heart sank. She knew immediately her son must have done something again.
Though Jiang Chen wasn’t antisocial, he’d been at odds with Jiang Zhier since childhood.
Still, she tried, “That can’t be true, Jiayao. You can’t accuse him without proof.”
“Then come to the hospital,” he said flatly. “You’ll see for yourself.”
Tang Peiwen forced a smile. “Er’er’s in the hospital? Then, as her uncle and aunt, we should go visit her.”
The hypocrisy in her tone made Cheng Jiayao’s lip curl, but he simply replied, “Fine. Let’s go together.”
They each got into their respective cars.
The moment Tang Peiwen sat down, she grabbed Jiang Chen’s arm. “What did you do?”
Jiang Chen, usually arrogant at home, snapped back, “I didn’t do anything!”
“Chenchen,” she said sharply, “if you don’t tell me the truth right now, don’t come crying to your father or me when the Cheng family comes after you!”
“I told you—I didn’t do anything! I just put some mango juice in her milk tea!”
Tang Peiwen froze. “How much?”
“Not much! Just some concentrated mango juice I bought online—barely any!”
She nearly exploded. “You know she’s allergic to mangoes! I told you before—she’s living with Cheng Jingwei now, she’s part of the Cheng family! She’s even more dangerous to cross than Jiayao!”
“The Cheng family’s fallen on hard times. What’s there to be afraid of?”
“Who told you that?” she hissed. “Cheng Jingwei just made a public comeback at the airport—turned everything around and cleaned house at the same time. He’s more powerful than ever! Who gave you the guts to go against him?!”
Jiang Chen’s bravado faltered. Fear crept into his expression.
But resentment still burned in him. He couldn’t stand Jiang Zhier—she was a jinx. She used to cling to their family, and now that she had Cheng Jingwei’s backing, she’d turned her back on them.
And ever since the English Festival, she’d become popular at school—and Cheng Jiayao’s pursuit only made it worse. Jiang Chen couldn’t bear to see her thriving.
Even though he knew he might be in serious trouble this time, he muttered stubbornly, “I just wanted to teach her a lesson. It’s just an allergic reaction. At worst, she’ll get a rash or a scar. Plenty of people still like her.”
Tang Peiwen’s expression turned icy. “A scar? Do you have any idea that a severe allergic reaction can kill someone?!”
Jiang Chen’s eyes went wide, his defiance cracking.
“If she dies,” his mother snapped, “what do you think the Cheng family will do to you?”
When Cheng Jiayao arrived at the hospital, he went straight to the VIP floor.
Jiang Zhier had already received emergency treatment in the ambulance and was now on an IV drip. She had just woken up, with her homeroom teacher and Shao Xu sitting beside her.
“How are you? Feeling any better?” Cheng Jiayao asked quietly.
“I’m fine,” Jiang Zhier said weakly.
“Fine? You fainted! The doctor said it was anaphylactic shock. If it had been any later, it could’ve been life-threatening,” Shao Xu added, still shaken.
Cheng Jiayao held up the milk tea cup. “So, it really was an allergy? What are you allergic to?”
“Mangoes,” she said, confused. “But I didn’t eat any.”
“Does Jiang Chen know you’re allergic to mangoes?”
She blinked. “Yes… Why?”
“This milk tea was placed on your desk by him,” he said grimly. “I’m certain he did it.”
The cup was labeled strawberry milk tea. Jiang Zhier hadn’t noticed any mango taste—only a strong, overly sweet strawberry flavor. She’d just been thirsty after PE and taken a sip without thinking.
“Anyway, it’s simple,” Cheng Jiayao said. “A quick test will prove it. He can’t deny it. I ran into him and his mother at the school gate—they should be arriving soon. Don’t worry, I’ve already called Uncle Er. He’s on his way from the airport.”
“Uncle Er’s back in the country?” she asked in surprise.
“Yeah. Everything’s settled now.” He showed her the latest news about the Cheng Group on his phone.
Even pale and weak, she carefully read it, then exhaled a long breath of relief.
Cheng Jiayao couldn’t help but flick her forehead lightly. “You’re still worrying about him when you just woke up from anaphylaxis?”
“…,” she muttered.
Just then, his phone rang—it was Xu Yin.
“Young Master,” Xu Yin reported, “I’ll send someone to collect the milk tea sample right away. Also, the Jiang family mother and son have arrived. As per President Cheng’s orders, I’ve taken them to the rooftop meeting room to avoid disturbing Miss Er’er. President Cheng will arrive in thirty minutes.”
Everything was under control.
After ending the call, Cheng Jiayao returned to find Jiang Zhier washing her hands, IV line still attached.
He walked over and steadied the IV bottle. “The milk tea will be tested soon. If it really contains mango, the corridor surveillance will confirm everything.”
Jiang Zhier nodded.
Then he sighed. “I’m not trying to scold you, but you can’t be so careless. How could you drink something from an unknown source?”
Jiang Zhier glanced at him. “I thought it was from you, and…”
She hesitated.
—And ever since Cheng Jiayao had started pursuing her so publicly, no one else dared to give her anything.
“And what?” he prompted.
Jiang Zhier lowered her gaze. “…Brother Jiayao.”
“Hm?”
“Can you please stop liking me?”
She didn’t dare look up. Her fingertips traced the edge of the sink, fidgeting. “Your ex-girlfriends were never my type… and I’m not thinking about dating anyone right now. So… things just feel a little awkward.”
Cheng Jiayao’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Er’er, when my second uncle asked me last time, I didn’t know what I liked about you, or how long I’d like you. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever liked any girl for very long.”
He spoke with disarming honesty. “But this is the first time I’ve wanted to change something because of a girl.”
Jiang Zhier didn’t know how to respond.
The air between them fell silent.
After a pause, Cheng Jiayao changed the subject. “I’m going out to see Jiang Chen and the others. I think my second uncle will be here soon.”
When he left, Jiang Zhier leaned against the sink, letting out a long sigh of relief.
Although she really wanted to see Cheng Jingwei, the thought of the three of them being in the same room gave her a headache.
She washed her hands again, but when she looked up in the mirror, she froze. Because of the allergic reaction, her cheeks were flushed an unnatural red, and tiny blister-like bumps had spread along her jawline.
She’d thought the rash was only on her arms and that her face was just a little red—she hadn’t realized it had become this serious.
So ugly.
Would she really be disfigured…?
Cheng Jingwei was about to arrive.
Although she knew he wouldn’t mind, she still couldn’t bring herself to let him see her like this—especially since it was their first time meeting in half a month.
Jiang Zhier quickly asked a nurse for a mask.
The nurse handed her one and said gently, “It’s best not to wear it right now; your skin needs to breathe.”
Jiang Zhier rested her chin on her hand and murmured that she understood.
When Cheng Jingwei arrived at the hospital, the milk tea test report had already been expedited—it confirmed that it indeed contained a high concentration of mango juice.
The temperature had dropped sharply that evening, the sky darkening under heavy clouds as a storm threatened.
Several media vehicles were still tailing his car, hoping to see who he would settle accounts with next, but to their surprise, they followed him all the way to the hospital.
Cheng Jingwei stepped out and entered through the VIP passage, leaving the reporters outside.
In the elevator, his assistant reported, “The Jiang family mother and son are still in the reception room. Mr. Jiang Guilai has also arrived and is waiting.”
“Let them wait,” Cheng Jingwei said calmly.
When the elevator reached the VIP ward floor, the hospital director was already waiting to report on Jiang Zhier’s condition as he led him toward the ward.
The door opened.
“Er’er.”
The girl sitting on the bed looked up. She was still wearing a mask; though her skin was flushed, her eyes shone brightly. “Second Uncle!”
“Why are you still wearing a mask? Did you catch a cold?” the man asked, approaching the bed.
She mumbled a vague “hmm,” lowering her head and pulling the blanket higher over her face.
Unexpectedly, Cheng Jingwei reached out, hooking the blanket edge down with a finger to reveal her chin again. Then, gently tugging her earlobe, he said softly, “Don’t smother your mouth.”
Jiang Zhier quickly covered her chin and pressed her hand over his.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s… contagious.”
“At a time like this, you’re worried about contagion?” Cheng Jingwei chuckled. “Take it off. Let me see.”
She didn’t want him to see her like this, so she clutched his wrist tighter. He raised a brow and asked patiently, “What’s wrong?”
The girl lowered her head, pouted, and whispered one word: “Ugly.”
Cheng Jingwei paused.
He didn’t think she was being spoiled—it was natural for a teenage girl to care about her looks.
He turned to the doctor and assistant. “You can leave us.”
When they were alone, he said quietly, “You can take it off now.”
“…”
I just don’t want you to see.
But keeping it covered would only worsen the rash.
Cheng Jingwei caught her wrist and gently pulled her hand away, then removed the mask himself.
Jiang Zhier lowered her head, trying to hide.
He reached out and cupped her face lightly, tilting it upward.
Leaning close, Cheng Jingwei studied her face.
Jiang Zhier caught the faint, clean scent of his clothes and noticed the shallow marks from his glasses on the bridge of his nose. His eyelashes were long, his amber eyes cool and deep beneath slightly furrowed brows.
Everything about him made her forget to breathe.
He hadn’t yet washed his hands since leaving the airport, so he didn’t touch her skin directly. “Does it hurt?” he asked gently.
Jiang Zhier shook her head. “It’s just a little itchy.”
“Did you get the ointment?”
“There.” She pointed to the bedside table. “I’ll put it on in a bit.”
“I’ll do it.”
She hesitated, then murmured, “…Oh.”
Cheng Jingwei went to wash his hands, removed his suit jacket, and sat by the bed. Unscrewing the ointment, he carefully dabbed the red patches on her cheek with a cotton swab. His touch was gentle and precise, as if afraid of hurting her; he even blew softly to soothe the sting.
The tenderness was almost unbearable.
They were too close.
Her breathing quickened.
Noticing, Cheng Jingwei asked, “Why is your face getting redder?”
Jiang Zhier turned away, fanning her face. “It’s just… a little hot…”
After finishing, Cheng Jingwei asked, “Where else?”
Jiang Zhier rolled up her sleeves. Her arms, once covered in angry welts, now showed only scattered bumps.
When Cheng Jiayao entered, he saw his second uncle bent over, applying ointment to Jiang Zhier.
After a long day, Cheng Jingwei’s fringe had fallen slightly, shadowing his features. He only glanced up when he heard movement, then went back to what he was doing.
Cheng Jiayao couldn’t explain it, but something about the scene felt… off.
His uncle, though not much older than him, had always been kind—but the way he treated Jiang Zhier now seemed somehow different.
After finishing, Cheng Jingwei straightened and asked, “What is it?”
Cheng Jiayao came back to himself. “They said you arrived, so I came to check. Jiang Chen and the others are still in the meeting room.”
“Let them come down,” Cheng Jingwei said evenly.
On the drive from the airport, Cheng Jingwei had already obtained the milk tea test report, the school’s surveillance footage, and even the shop’s production video.
All evidence was conclusive.
The milk tea shop hadn’t added mango juice by mistake—and Jiang Chen was the one who had placed the drink on Jiang Zhier’s desk.
Jiang Guilai knew his son had truly caused a disaster this time. Pretending ignorance or cleverness before Cheng Jingwei would be useless.
So, when they entered the ward, he didn’t make excuses—only wore a face of remorse.
“Is Er’er feeling better?”
His voice came before he stepped fully inside. His eyes were red, his brows furrowed, and he hurried forward.
But before he could approach, Cheng Jingwei blocked him.
Sitting casually by the bed, Cheng Jingwei didn’t even look at him. His posture was relaxed, yet his presence filled the room.
Jiang Guilai hesitated, then yanked Jiang Chen forward and barked, “You little brat! No sense of decency—apologize to your sister right now!”
Jiang Chen turned his face away, silent.
Furious, Jiang Guilai struck him hard across the face. The slap echoed sharply.
Jiang Chen stared at him in disbelief.
Even Jiang Zhier was stunned—after all these years, she had never seen Jiang Chen hit, no matter what trouble he caused.
Tang Peiwen instinctively lifted her hand to stop him, but froze halfway.
She knew this slap wasn’t for discipline—it was for show, a way to vent Cheng Jingwei’s anger. Only after that could there be room for negotiation.
“Apologize!” Jiang Guilai roared.
Jiang Chen covered his cheek and muttered reluctantly, “I’m sorry.”
Jiang Guilai shot a glance at Cheng Jingwei. The man still didn’t look up—he was calmly peeling an apple.
With a strained smile, Jiang Guilai said, “Er’er, this is your brother’s fault. If you want to hit him or scold him, do it—whatever helps you let off steam.”
A soft laugh broke the tense silence.
Everyone turned toward Cheng Jingwei.
The man held the peeler with long, steady fingers, a curl of apple skin dangling from the blade.
“Vent your anger?” His voice was low and cool. “Mr. Jiang, you make it sound so simple. Your son is indeed precious. But Er’er nearly stopped breathing—went into shock. Do you think a few words or a slap are enough to make up for that?”
Jiang Guilai froze.
Cheng Jingwei had no intention of letting this go.
“Mr. Cheng, I understand,” Jiang Guilai said quickly. “This is Chenchen’s fault—there’s no excuse. How about this: I’ll arrange for him to transfer schools and make sure he never appears before Er’er again. Will that suffice?”
“Your young master just turned sixteen not long ago, didn’t he?” Cheng Jingwei asked calmly.
The final strip of apple peel ended up in the trash.
Jiang Guilai’s face went pale.
“…Yes.”
“Good,” Cheng Jingwei said with a faint smile. He turned to Xu Yin. “Call the police.”
Now that he’s over sixteen, he can bear criminal responsibility.