If I Die, Will You Still Hate Me? - Chapter 15

“We’ve broken up, why are you still clinging to me?”

Ye Xun was the first to notice something was wrong.

After answering Tan Hui, they both looked toward Jiang Xuzhou—

Half his face was buried in the soft blanket, his long fringe resting smoothly on his pale cheek, his breathing shallow and deep.

Tan Hui’s eyesight wasn’t good, and she was far away, so she simply thought Jiang Xuzhou was sleeping.

But Ye Xun was all too familiar with Jiang Xuzhou in this state.

Ye Xun got rid of Tan Hui, turned around, and shook Jiang Xuzhou’s shoulder firmly and anxiously: “Jiang Xuzhou!”

The night at Linhai Residence flashed in his mind.

“Jiang Xuzhou!” Ye Xun’s uneasy premonition grew stronger. His breathing was rapid, and his mind was a mess. “Don’t scare… Grandma.”

He had originally meant to say, Don’t scare me. But he changed his words at the last moment.

‘Don’t scare me’ was too intimate, unsuitable for his relationship with Jiang Xuzhou.

Jiang Xuzhou felt uncomfortable from the shaking and groaned: “…What is it?”

Ye Xun relaxed his grip and looked up at Tan Hui, who was busy in the kitchen: “How do you feel right now?”

If he hadn’t asked, it would have been fine, but after the question, Jiang Xuzhou’s consciousness gradually returned. He self-analyzed his condition: “…Dizzy.”

With that, Jiang Xuzhou squinted open an eye and saw Ye Xun covered in sweat: “You’re sweating. Go inside. I’ll be back in a minute.”

At this moment, Ye Xun didn’t have time to worry about himself; he only wanted to quickly understand why Jiang Xuzhou was dizzy.

Jiang Xuzhou, still intent on getting him indoors, strained to speak and suggested it again.

Ye Xun was annoyed: “You worry about yourself first.”

This time, Jiang Xuzhou didn’t argue further. He used the little strength he had gathered to prop himself up, draped the blanket over Ye Xun, and his hoarse, low voice sounded: “It’s nothing, I’m probably just hypoglycemic. I’ll be fine in a moment. You get inside quickly, or you’ll catch a cold.”

The blanket on him was too heavy, weighing not only on Ye Xun’s body but also on his heart. He really wanted to ask Jiang Xuzhou: Which is more important, a confirmed case of hypoglycemia or a potential cold?

In truth, Ye Xun couldn’t quite tell if Jiang Xuzhou’s words at this moment were genuine or feigned.

Seeing that Ye Xun still made no move to go inside, Jiang Xuzhou gently persuaded him like he was comforting a child: “Why don’t you help me get a few milk candies?”

His milk candies were in the jacket he wore yesterday.

Ye Xun tossed the blanket into Jiang Xuzhou’s arms, stood up, and retrieved his jacket.

Jiang Xuzhou smiled faintly: “Thank you.”

Ye Xun had seen that warm, relaxed smile many times, but that was four years ago.

“You should go back,” Jiang Xuzhou added.

Ye Xun knew that if he didn’t leave, Jiang Xuzhou would keep trying to send him away. He turned and stood behind the chair.

He watched Jiang Xuzhou take out the milk candy, his hand trembling too much to peel the wrapper. Jiang Xuzhou sighed, looking up at the sky, then silently put the candy back.

After about a minute, Jiang Xuzhou tried again to open the candy, still without success. His hand went limp, and the white candy slipped from his grasp, rolling on the ground.

Ye Xun felt Jiang Xuzhou say something, then the lean, articulated hand fell limply from the deck chair.

Ye Xun had seen Jiang Xuzhou like this before. And every time he saw it, his heart was pierced with pain.

This time was no exception.

He walked over, picked up the milk candy and put it in his pocket, then took out a candy from his own clothes, peeled it, and shoved it somewhat roughly into Jiang Xuzhou’s mouth.

Jiang Xuzhou bit down on the candy and looked up at him in surprise, but Ye Xun stubbornly held his head up, feigning an air of indifference.

He didn’t want Jiang Xuzhou to read too much into this action, thinking they might still have a chance.

Jiang Xuzhou did as he wished, not thinking that way, and merely said flatly: “Thank you.”

“You’re too kind, General Manager Jiang,” Ye Xun said. “I won’t just stand by and watch someone die.”

Tan Hui’s call from inside that dinner was ready interrupted the budding confrontation between the two.

Of course, this was only a confrontation in Ye Xun’s mind.

Jiang Xuzhou recovered and, with Ye Xun’s support, walked to the dining table, just as Tan Hui was bringing out a dish.

Tan Hui looked Jiang Xuzhou up and down, half-caring, half-mocking: “What’s wrong, Zouzhou? You need Xiao Xun to help you up after a nap?”

Jiang Xuzhou naturally couldn’t tell Tan Hui about fainting from hypoglycemia: “My legs just went numb from sleeping.”

“Sleep on the bed next time,” Tan Hui said. She then glanced at Ye Xun and asked, “Xiao Xun, why is your face so red?”

Ye Xun also felt his face was hot. He’d felt it when he first found Jiang Xuzhou unconscious, but his priority then was to wake Jiang Xuzhou, so he had forgotten about it.

Jiang Xuzhou turned his head and looked at Ye Xun, frowning: “Does your throat hurt?”

Ye Xun wasn’t used to being cared for by others, so he shook his head, brushing it off: “Maybe it’s just from the heat earlier.”

“Hmm,” Jiang Xuzhou nodded, then spoke in a voice only the two of them could hear, “You might have a fever. Take some medicine after dinner.”

At the time, Ye Xun thought Jiang Xuzhou was overthinking it. How could a person who exercised year-round, and had even just run a marathon a month ago, get a fever simply from not adding a jacket in time?

Unexpectedly, in the middle of the night, Ye Xun decided Jiang Xuzhou must have been a jinx.

The room was pitch black. He staggered up to use the restroom. On his way back, his leg kicked the desk, creating a harsh scraping sound that woke Jiang Xuzhou.

Jiang Xuzhou had difficulty falling asleep and was a light sleeper; any noise could wake him up. He turned on the main light, squinting as he asked: “Does it hurt?”

It was impossible to say it didn’t hurt; stubbing a toe on a desk corner was practically the highest level of pain.

Unfortunately, he was too dizzy and truly didn’t want to analyze the momentary pain with Jiang Xuzhou.

He closed his eyes, collapsed back onto the bed, and let out a scorching breath.

Jiang Xuzhou rolled out of bed. His cool palm rested on Ye Xun’s forehead; the temperature was burning hot.

“You have a fever. I’ll get you some medicine,” Jiang Xuzhou added before leaving the room, “You get on the bed to sleep.”

Ye Xun didn’t much want to move, but Jiang Xuzhou’s tone was too firm.

He didn’t want to disobey, or rather, he was too lazy to argue about the bed space with Jiang Xuzhou again.

The medicine box had been taken out that morning and was now on the bedside table. Jiang Xuzhou rummaged through it and found that the medicine was either expired by a year or about to expire…

Bruise and sprain medication.

Jiang Xuzhou helplessly tucked the blanket around Ye Xun, then dampened a towel and placed it on his head: “I’m going out to buy medicine.”

Sick people tend to be emotionally vulnerable and turn into whiny children; Ye Xun was no exception. He glanced at the time and pulled on Jiang Xuzhou’s jacket corner: “It’s too late. Go tomorrow.”

The nearest 24-hour pharmacy was about ten kilometers away via mountain roads, and night driving was difficult. Ye Xun was worried.

Jiang Xuzhou softened his voice, coaxing him like a child: “You’re burning up like a furnace. How can we wait until tomorrow?”

Ye Xun was terribly uncomfortable, his face flushed, and his eyes moist, as if he had just been crying. He knew Jiang Xuzhou was a man of action; if he decided to do something, he would do it, and no one could stop him.

Especially when it concerned him.

Ye Xun felt the ‘hatred’ defense line in his mind trembling, ready to break under the heat of the fever and Jiang Xuzhou’s gentleness. He relented: “Get some cooling patches while you’re at it.”

Jiang Xuzhou daringly reached out, ruffled his messy short hair, and promised he would.

After Jiang Xuzhou left, Ye Xun drifted off to sleep for a while.

The dream’s plot was fragmented. Sometimes he and Jiang Xuzhou were chatting aimlessly in their shabby rental apartment; sometimes they were having a huge fight in the Linhai Residence. The voices in his ears jumped between sweet words and vicious insults.

The final scene stopped at their last night in Linhai Residence—

Outside, dark clouds gathered, and raindrops made a dull sound hitting the leaves.

“Jiang Xuzhou, explain.”

Ye Xun and Jiang Xuzhou sat face to face at the dining table. This was the first peaceful conversation they had a week after Jiang Xuzhou had proposed breaking up.

For all those days, Ye Xun had gone from initial confusion and anger to attempting to understand. Finally, he decided to talk things out properly with Jiang Xuzhou.

He would at least die with an understanding.

Jiang Xuzhou didn’t dare look directly at the person he loved across from him. His gaze fell on the withered flower on the corner of the table—

Ye Xun had bought it last week.

“There’s nothing to explain, Ye Xun,” Jiang Xuzhou said. “Let’s break up…”

He bit his lower lip until he tasted a hint of bl00d, then spoke: “We’re… not compatible.”

Ye Xun laughed in anger: “If we’re not compatible, why did you pursue me in the first place? Why did you waste so many years of my life?”

Jiang Xuzhou remained silent, still staring at the flower on the table corner.

“Jiang Xuzhou,” Ye Xun said, “You’ve changed. You’ve become just like…”

He knew this phrase would deeply hurt the other person, so he struggled internally for a long time, but finally said it: “Just like Zhao Mingrong.”

Afterward, he closed his eyes, and his mind uncontrollably recalled that unbearable memory—

He had intended to rush into Jiang Xuzhou’s office and demand an explanation for the sudden breakup, to ask if he had done something wrong, but he didn’t expect Zhao Mingrong to be there.

Ye Xun froze, trying to recall Jiang Xuzhou’s schedule and messages. Jiang Xuzhou used to proactively update him on what he was about to do.

This time, it was an exception.

He grabbed Jiang Xuzhou’s collar, forcing him to meet his gaze, but the dark pupils that met his were filled with the contempt of a superior.

This was an expression Ye Xun had never seen. His hand slackened slightly, his brows furrowed, and he called out uncertainly: “…Jiang Xuzhou?”

Jiang Xuzhou ignored him, turning his head to smile faintly at Zhao Mingrong, who was watching the scene unfold: “You’ve seen too much.”

Zhao Mingrong understood: “It’s the ambiguous stage, normal.”

“No, we’ve already broken up,” Jiang Xuzhou’s cold hand forcefully tugged his collar back, pushing the stunned Ye Xun away.

“…Xuzhou,” Ye Xun called out wretchedly, trying to get Jiang Xuzhou to look at him.

He couldn’t believe a person who valued feelings as much as Jiang Xuzhou would give up so easily.

Jiang Xuzhou glanced at him: “We’ve broken up, why are you still clinging to me?” Then, he added, word by word, “Vice General Manager Ye.”

He stressed those three words heavily, as if to carve them into Ye Xun’s heart, stick them on his forehead, and stamp them onto his entire life.