If I Die, Will You Still Hate Me? - Chapter 16

“So, you have to be well.”

Jiang Xuzhou’s hand holding the water cup trembled slightly. He lifted his eyes in surprise to look at Ye Xun.

Those closest often know exactly how to wound those they love the most. Ye Xun’s single sentence pierced Jiang Xuzhou’s heart like a sharp sword.

Jiang Xuzhou forced down the cardiac pain and couldn’t speak.

Zhao Mingrong was notoriously cold and heartless. He had once used his excellent looks to seduce his first wife, gradually climbed the ranks, and then, once he was stepping on her head, immediately dumped her.

His rise to fortune was practically half a dating history.

He was also extremely harsh on his employees, a virtual Chinese version of Ebenezer Scrooge.

Jiang Xuzhou utterly detested him, avoiding him even if it meant walking the long way around.

Yet, here and now, Ye Xun was grouping him with Zhao Mingrong. Jiang Xuzhou truly hadn’t expected it.

His heart throbbed with a dull ache. The person in front of him was slowly becoming unrecognizable, his brilliant smile laced with icy shards that stung Jiang Xuzhou painfully.

Ye Xun looked at Jiang Xuzhou’s bewildered face and felt a surge of gratification from the revenge for the first time.

The mask of pallor that Jiang Xuzhou constantly wore cracked, and white fragments uncontrollably fell away. His entire being resembled a flower on the edge of a desk, slowly yellowing and withering.

“Xiao Xun…” Jiang Xuzhou called his name, just as Ye Xun had called him in his office years ago.

Ye Xun, just as he had done back then, smiled faintly: “Did you really think I wanted to spend my life with an invalid like you? We were just having fun.”

Even though these words were said in anger, to Jiang Xuzhou, they were like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky, deafening his ears, making his breathing ragged, and causing his temples to throb relentlessly. The pain was drilling everywhere.

It hurt so much he wanted to die.

He frowned, his voice sharp: “Get out!”

The rage in Ye Xun’s heart instantly ignited. He was inherently a hot-tempered person, only mellowed slightly by being with Jiang Xuzhou for so long.

“Why should I leave!” Ye Xun slammed the table and jumped up, knocking his chair to the floor. He roared.

Jiang Xuzhou’s heart shuddered in response. He managed to force a harsh phrase through gritted teeth: “Because this is the house I bought, and we’ve broken up!”

He added a final blow: “Get out.”

Ye Xun, blinded by anger, completely failed to notice that despite his back remaining straight and his demeanor outwardly unshakeable, Jiang Xuzhou’s lips had already started to turn white.

He stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut.

The sound of the door and the thunder from outside exploded simultaneously in the quiet night.

Something between the two of them had utterly collapsed.

“Xiao Xun, wake up and take some medicine.” Jiang Xuzhou’s voice sounded in Ye Xun’s ear. “Take your medicine, and you’ll sleep more comfortably.”

Ye Xun groggily opened his eyes. Lit by the small bedside lamp, he saw a Jiang Xuzhou different from the one in his dream—the figure before him was merely a silhouette holding a water cup in one hand and medicine in the other.

He reached out and grasped the other’s hand.

Jiang Xuzhou’s hands and feet were perpetually cold. Ye Xun had tried many ways to warm them, all to no avail.

“My hand is cold. Hold out yours, and I’ll put the pill in it,” Jiang Xuzhou retracted his hand and said.

Ye Xun’s heart was still stuck in the argument from the dream, and he stared blankly at Jiang Xuzhou.

Jiang Xuzhou asked in a soothing, childlike tone: “Are you feeling very unwell?”

This sentence jolted Ye Xun into realizing that this wasn’t the Jiang Xuzhou from the dream, but the Jiang Xuzhou before the dream, the one who was in a relationship with him.

He was delirious with fever.

Jiang Xuzhou, assuming his discomfort was severe, pulled an anti-fever patch from a bag and carefully placed it on his forehead: “Does that feel better?”

He shook his head, remembering Jiang Xuzhou’s constantly cool body temperature. He opened his arms and mumbled: “You’re so cold, your body heat is definitely better for cooling me down than a fever patch.”

Jiang Xuzhou chuckled softly. His voice was light, yet Ye Xun could feel his immense happiness.

“You… come up to bed and join me in a bit,” Ye Xun patted the mattress.

Jiang Xuzhou asked for confirmation uncertainly. Ye Xun repeated himself and added: “You need warmth, I need to cool down. It’s mutually beneficial.”

Despite his words, Jiang Xuzhou insisted on taking a hot shower. He came back to bed with a wave of warmth and lay down on Ye Xun’s left side.

“Why did you shower?” Ye Xun’s voice was thick with congestion. The simple question somehow came out sounding like a spoiled plea.

“I was cold, and I didn’t want to make your cold worse,” Jiang Xuzhou confessed honestly.

“It’s a fever,” Ye Xun corrected. He was genuinely afraid of Jiang Xuzhou’s cursed mouth, afraid he would jinx him into getting a cold.

A cold was ten thousand times worse than a fever.

As he spoke, he snuggled closer to Jiang Xuzhou’s steadily cooling body. He had to admit, Jiang Xuzhou really was like a giant fever patch; he felt much more comfortable.

The faint scent of Jiang Xuzhou’s shower gel enveloped Ye Xun’s nose. It was reassuring and soothing.

“Jiang Xuzhou.” Ye Xun’s head was spinning, his sleepiness gone. The dependency deep in his bones told him he needed Jiang Xuzhou right now.

He wanted to hear Jiang Xuzhou talk, to hear his breathing, and to hear his heartbeat.

“Hmm?”

Jiang Xuzhou answered, nudged closer to Ye Xun, and rubbed his cheek against the other’s soft short hair. It tickled.

The room outside was pitch black and very quiet. They were like two small animals huddling together for warmth. Jiang Xuzhou loved this feeling.

“Say something. Anything,” Ye Xun mumbled.

“Say what?”

Ye Xun remembered Jiang Xuzhou had never spoken about his own childhood: “Talk about your childhood.”

“…Childhood?”

Jiang Xuzhou felt a pang of disappointment. Even when Ye Xun was sick, he wasn’t giving him a chance to explain.

In truth, his childhood was nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary worth sharing.

Like any other left-behind child, he lived with Tan Hui and Jiang Zhong. Tan Hui would give him two eggs before school, Jiang Zhong would have lunch cooked when he came home, and in the evening, he would hunch over a rickety table, doing homework by the sunset light. He had no close friends and no cherished childhood memories. He never yearned for Mei Yue and Jiang Yongjun to return, because they simply didn’t exist in his memory.

“There’s nothing good to tell about my childhood,” Jiang Xuzhou’s voice was very soft.

Ye Xun wasn’t satisfied with the answer. He turned his head to look at Jiang Xuzhou, their gazes briefly meeting: “How can there be nothing good to tell? Grandma told me so much!”

But I don’t want to hear it from Grandma, I want to hear it from you. Hear how you defeated the people who mocked you; hear how you lived without anyone to back you up; hear how painful every path you took as a child was.

Ye Xun didn’t say this last part aloud.

Jiang Xuzhou was silent for a few minutes. Just when Ye Xun thought he had fallen asleep, he finally spoke.

“When I was little…” Jiang Xuzhou racked his brain, unable to think of anything to say.

He couldn’t talk about the sad things; it would upset Ye Xun. The happy things were few, and he couldn’t recall them.

Ye Xun’s gaze was scorching, his light-colored pupils seemed to carry fire that burned Jiang Xuzhou.

It actually made him recall something from a very, very long time ago.

That time wasn’t happy, at most it was peaceful.

“When I couldn’t sleep, I liked to look at the stars,” Jiang Xuzhou said. “Especially lying in a haystack.”

When the small Jiang Xuzhou’s heart felt heavy, he would run out and lie on the large haystack. The stars covered him completely, the air filled with the scent of soil and plants, and the breeze played with the corners of his clothes.

It was comfortable and free, and the burden on his heart was much lighter.

“Back then, Grandma told me that I could tell the stars any wish, and they would help me grant it.”

“So, what did you wish for?” Ye Xun asked.

Jiang Xuzhou turned to look at the person beside him.

His wish had been granted nine years ago.

“A child’s wishes are too many to remember,” he dismissed.

“Oh.” Ye Xun closed his eyes in discomfort and mumbled, “Did it come true?”

“If I can’t remember the wish, how can I remember if it came true?” Jiang Xuzhou chuckled for a moment, then replied: “I think it must have.”

“Mhm.” Ye Xun said groggily, “You must be the stars’ favorite person.”

A smile spilled from Jiang Xuzhou’s eyes: “Such childish talk.”

If the star deity favored him, why would he be cursed with a life of illness? If the star deity didn’t favor him, why would he be gifted Ye Xun?

Jiang Xuzhou quickly weighed the two and decided Ye Xun was right. He agreed: “The star deity certainly favors me.”

“So, you have to be well.”

“You have to be well too,” Jiang Xuzhou said. He then took the liberty of pressing his face against Ye Xun’s forehead, checking his temperature. Finding that it wasn’t as hot as before, he sighed in relief, and sleepiness belatedly swept over him.

He yawned, got up to grab the medicine from the bedside, poured a cup of warm water, and patted Ye Xun’s hand: “Take your medicine and get some sleep.”

Ye Xun obediently took the medicine, allowing Jiang Xuzhou to tuck him in.

Jiang Xuzhou fell asleep quickly.

Ye Xun remained awake. He listened to Jiang Xuzhou’s steady breathing, smelled the shower gel scent that was identical to his own, and felt his slightly cool body temperature. In a trance, he felt the surrounding environment spin and shift, and he could faintly hear the sound of ocean waves hitting the sand.

He was back in the Linhai Mansion.

He was back to an ordinary night there.

He reached out his right hand and gently placed it on Jiang Xuzhou’s left chest. The latter hummed, sleepily patted his hand, and mumbled: “Sleep now.”

The strong heartbeat thumped through the thin layers of skin and tissue into Ye Xun’s palm. In the silence, he could almost hear the thump-thump-thump sound echoing.

The chest was always warm, holding not only a heart but also love and other emotions echoing within.

Ye Xun quietly felt it, closed his eyes, and counted Jiang Xuzhou’s heartbeats in his mind.

This was his favorite thing to do when they were together.

One…

Two…

Three…

…

The medicine slowly took effect. His eyelids grew heavier, and the counting became blurred.

Finally, as the heart’s thump landed for the thirty-second time, Ye Xun drifted into sleep.