Feverish Spring Night - Chapter 26

Cheng Jingwei had never imagined that he would one day feel such fear and dread because of someone.
He had been alone ever since he went abroad at a young age—at first, there was pain and loneliness, but with time, he grew used to it. Eventually, he could no longer empathize with the boy he once was.
Everyone thought he was emotionally detached, and Cheng Jingwei thought so, too.
Otherwise, why hadn’t he shed a single tear when his mother was gravely ill, when he rushed home from abroad only to miss her one last time?
Why had he felt nothing but a quiet sense of loss when his father passed away?
Why, in the midst of mourning, could he still think about how to stabilize the group?
Throughout his twenty-eight years, he had been taught to be composed and restrained—to never reveal emotion, never expose weakness.
Even at the dinner table, he was told not to show preference, not to take the same dish twice.
But when he thought Jiang Zhier might be hurt—or worse, gone forever—he felt fear and dread unlike anything he’d known.
And this time, he couldn’t control it.
Though she had only briefly entered his life, she had become the one person he truly cared for, the one he could not bear to lose.
Jiang Zhier had taken root in his life in ways he himself hadn’t anticipated.
As the rain poured harder, the search for her became increasingly difficult.
Worse, the initial investigation went in the wrong direction. The more anxious they grew, the more mistakes they made, eventually focusing all manpower on matters related to the Fang family.
Finally, Cheng Jiayao overheard her mother discussing the chaos that had erupted and realized how serious things had become.
She tried calling Jiang Zhier, but there was no answer. Afraid the situation would spiral out of control, she finally confessed everything to Cheng Jingwei.
At that moment, Cheng Jingwei was still searching alone in Jiang Zhier’s car. The Maybach sat parked on the side of a deserted street, rain pounding relentlessly on the roof. His shoulders were damp, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.
When he heard the truth, an almost imperceptible relief washed over him. The emotions that had been suffocating him for so long finally had somewhere to go.
He gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles turning white.
“She’s at the Fengyao Hotel right now?” he asked, his voice low.
“I just tried calling her, but she didn’t answer,” Cheng Jiayao said. “With the storm this heavy, she probably has nowhere else to go except a hotel, right?”
“Has she been here all these days? Is she hurt?”
“…Yes, she’s not hurt,” Cheng Jiayao replied. “I went to see her a few days ago, but she said she wanted some peace, so I didn’t bother her anymore.”
Cheng Jingwei restarted the car in the downpour and drove toward the Fengyao Hotel.
His anxiety and worry began to subside, but his expression turned cold, tinged with restrained anger. “Why isn’t she home?”
Cheng Jiayao hesitated, lips pressed together, unable to tell Cheng Jingwei the truth.
He dared not—and couldn’t.
“…I don’t know either.”
Cheng Jingwei said nothing more. He hung up and sped through the intersection, splashing water as he drove.
On the way to the Fengyao Hotel, countless thoughts filled his mind.
Why had Jiang Zhier suddenly chosen to stay in a hotel alone?
She had lied, claiming she was at a classmate’s house. She didn’t answer calls and never reached out on her own.
It was like a rebellious child “running away from home.”
But before this, he had never noticed any behavior in her that could be called rebellious.
After thinking it over, he could only recall the time before her final exams, when he’d been called to school because of her diary. He had asked her who her crush was and told her not to give that person any more chances.
Jiang Zhier had resisted then—she couldn’t accept it and cried a lot—but they hadn’t argued.
Cheng Jingwei had always been clear about his boundaries.
After all, he wasn’t Jiang Zhier’s real elder, and he had no right to dictate her choices like traditional elders in China might. He had only offered advice from an experienced perspective, not a command.
If he truly wanted to be authoritarian, he could have found out who that person was in a hundred different ways and made sure they never appeared before Jiang Zhier again.
Yet Jiang Zhier had chosen to rebel against him over such a trivial piece of “advice.”
At this moment, Cheng Jingwei finally understood why Cheng Jiayao’s rebelliousness had caused their parents so much trouble over the years.
And now, he truly understood.
He felt angry—yet also ridiculous.
He knew he was eleven years older than Jiang Zhier and shouldn’t be arguing with a teenager, but he still felt deeply frustrated.
The real problem was that she was willing to waste her time on a man she didn’t even understand, using this “runaway” act to prove her determination.
And he—he was actually jealous of her.
He felt that his place in Jiang Zhier’s heart was less important than that man.
…
Cheng Jingwei sped through the empty, rain-swept streets until he stopped outside the Fengyao Hotel.
His Maybach, sleek and gleaming with rain, stood out sharply in the storm—an uninvited presence impossible to ignore.
The hotel lobby manager came out to investigate, and Cheng Jingwei learned that Jiang Zhier had just been taken to the hospital with a high fever.
Now, alongside irritation, a pang of heartache surged in his chest.
He was both angry and heartbroken.
A high fever, in this weather, and she went to the hospital alone.
The roads were lined with fallen branches; wasn’t she afraid of an accident?
In the early hours of the morning, the Maybach left the hotel and drove straight to the hospital.
Upon entering the infusion room, Cheng Jingwei immediately spotted Jiang Zhier huddled in a corner. The little girl was curled up into a small ball, her flushed face now pale, her forehead beaded with cold sweat.
At that sight, all his anger dissolved—only heartache remained.
He went over, tucked her in with a blanket, and, seeing her hands blue from the cold, took off his coat, brushed off the raindrops, and gently covered her with it.
He asked the nurse about her condition, his brows furrowing tighter and tighter.
Such a high fever—why had it taken her so long to come to the hospital? Why hadn’t she thought to call him, even once?
Cheng Jingwei sat beside her, carefully warming her hands, avoiding the IV needle.
He didn’t wake her, just sat quietly by her side, watching the IV drip slowly fall.
After three bottles of fluid, around two in the morning, he called the nurse to remove the needle. He pressed the injection site gently until the bleeding stopped before softly waking her.
To everyone’s surprise, the moment Jiang Zhier opened her eyes, she burst into tears. Her eyes were red and swollen, as if they had been steeped in tears—like a frightened rabbit’s.
She looked at him quietly and called out in a soft, hoarse voice, “Second Uncle.”
Cheng Jingwei raised a hand to touch her forehead. Jiang Zhier instinctively flinched back. His hand froze midair, but after a moment, he still touched her gently.
She was still warm—her fever hadn’t completely subsided.
Of course, with a temperature that high, it wouldn’t fade so easily.
Seeing how weak she was, Cheng Jingwei didn’t press her with questions. He simply helped her up, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close as they walked down the cold corridor.
“Let’s go.”
Outside, the wind and rain were relentless.
“Zhier, wait here for a while,” he said. “I’ll get the car.”
“Second Uncle,” Jiang Zhier murmured, lowering her head. Her voice was hoarse and faint, yet stubborn. “I can take a taxi myself. It’s late—you should go back and rest.”
Cheng Jingwei paused, lowering his gaze.
Her cold politeness stung. His jaw tightened, and his expression turned distant and sharp.
That flicker of irritation rose in his chest again.
He had always been a man in control of his emotions—but this irritation was becoming unbearable.
Finally, he took a deep breath and asked in a low voice, “Where are you taking a taxi?”
“Back to the hotel,” she said, still keeping her head down—polite, distant, like a stranger.
Cheng Jingwei’s jawline tensed even more. He didn’t know why he was so angry; he just felt a swirl of emotions he couldn’t contain.
“Fine. Go back to the hotel,” he said flatly.
With that, he turned and walked into the rain.
The cold wind hit him, clearing his head.
What was he doing, getting angry at a sick child?
He hesitated for only a second—then turned back.
Jiang Zhier, tears welling in her eyes, froze when the man suddenly bent down and lifted her into his arms.
“Jiang Zhier,” Cheng Jingwei said calmly, “you can only come home with me today.”
His familiar scent and warmth enveloped her; she could even feel the bulging veins on his arms and the cool brush of his wristwatch.
That wave of uncontrollable emotion surged again, drowning her in guilt and self-loathing.
Why couldn’t she let go?
She didn’t want to like Cheng Jingwei anymore. She didn’t want to cry for him anymore.
But why did he keep appearing before her—caring for her, looking after her?
“I don’t want to!”
Her voice broke as she struggled in his arms. “Put me down! I don’t want to go back with you!”
Cheng Jingwei said nothing.
But his steady steps and firm grip spoke louder than words. He opened the black, straight-ribbed umbrella and carried her out into the storm.
That umbrella—she remembered it. The same one he had held over her at her grandmother’s funeral.
Their relationship should have ended there.
The sight overwhelmed her; her tears fell uncontrollably. No matter how she struggled, she couldn’t break free of his strength.
The car wasn’t far.
He opened the passenger door and all but placed her inside before circling back to the driver’s seat and locking the doors.
Jiang Zhier sat up, fumbling with the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.
The online rumors about his engagement flashed through her mind, and anger welled up anew. She gripped the doorknob harder. “I don’t want to go back! That’s not my home!”
“Can you stop making a scene?” Cheng Jingwei’s low voice carried exhaustion more than anger.
At that, Jiang Zhier fell silent.
She suddenly realized how out of line she’d been.
Cheng Jingwei controlled an entire group, feared and respected by so many. If not for his patience and affection, she’d never have dared to raise her voice to him.
Then she noticed the bloodshot eyes, the exhaustion etched in his features, and the rain-soaked shirt clinging to his shoulders.
It was two-thirty in the morning. He had abandoned rest and work just to be there for her while she was sick. He didn’t deserve her anger.
Jiang Zhier’s lashes trembled. She lowered her head and whispered an apology.
Cheng Jingwei said nothing. He simply started the car and drove home.
The ride was silent.
Back home, Jiang Zhier stepped out, took the elevator, and entered the apartment.
The house was pitch dark, unnaturally clean. The notebooks and pens she’d left on the coffee table were gone, as were the bright clothes on the balcony. The place felt desolate.
“Why did you run away from home?” Cheng Jingwei’s voice came from behind her—cold, restrained.
Jiang Zhier froze, not expecting him to call it “running away.”
But she couldn’t deny it either.
How could she tell him she’d left because she’d seen the news of his engagement—that she wanted to stop loving him, that she just didn’t want to keep being so sad?
Cheng Jingwei continued, “Just because of that diary—because you like that person—you’d go this far?”
She looked down at her slippers.
When she first came, it was still winter. The first day, she wore oversized gray cotton slippers. The next day, a new pair appeared—soft, pink, fluffy, and warm.
And as the weather grew warmer, there were even sandals carefully prepared for her—the kind young girls liked most.
But if Cheng Jingwei was about to get married, her presence here would only be an eyesore. Putting herself in his shoes—if she were the groom—she would definitely feel uncomfortable too.
Tears silently fell again, splattering onto the marble tiles.
The girl gritted her teeth, struggling to hold back her sobs. “You know absolutely nothing.”
“Yes, I know nothing,” Cheng Jingwei replied coldly. “I don’t know why you ran away from home for a man, hurt yourself, and ended up in this mess. I told you from the beginning—no one is worth you sacrificing yourself for.”
Jiang Zhier shook her head in the darkness, her voice trembling. “You know nothing.”
The person I love is you.
You are the one I should never have hoped for in the first place.
It had been wrong from the start—but now, her feelings were irreversible.
Cheng Jingwei frowned at her words. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said solemnly, “Sever all ties with that person. If you can’t do it, I will.”
He had never imagined he would speak such authoritarian words.
Jiang Zhier froze.
Not because of the first sentence—but because of the second: “By Cheng Jingwei.”
If he truly wanted to investigate, he could find out who that person was in no time. But Jiang Zhier didn’t want him to. She had already decided to give up. She didn’t want to lose the last shred of dignity she still had in front of him.
“No!” Jiang Zhier suddenly cried out, her pupils dilating, eyes red and glassy. “No… I’ll handle it myself.”
To her, that meant she didn’t want him to look into it.
But to Cheng Jingwei, it sounded like she refused to sever ties with that man.
His brows drew even tighter together.
“Jiang Zhier, who taught you to debase yourself like this—for a man who’s nothing?”
Cheng Jingwei rarely raised his voice, but now anger broke through his restraint. “You’d run away from home and rebel against me for him—you even said this isn’t your home at all! Then tell me, who am I?!”
Jiang Zhier bit her lip, saying nothing.
Cheng Jingwei reached out and gripped her chin, tilting her head upward so she was forced to meet his gaze. His voice was low and firm as he said, word by word,
“I am your second uncle.”
But to everyone’s surprise, Jiang Zhier’s eyes brimmed over, tears spilling down to his fingertips.
Cheng Jingwei’s fingers trembled faintly—the burning wetness jolted him back to his senses.
Just as he was about to let go, Jiang Zhier suddenly looked up at him, eyes red and face twisted in anguish. Then she almost shouted—
“You are Cheng Jingwei!”