As Lu Zhuonian shifted slightly, a thermometer slipped from his sleeve and dropped right in front of Chen Zemian’s nose.
The display was alarming—nearly 39 degrees Celsius.
Chen Zemian turned his head, shocked. “Lu Zhuonian, are you delirious from the fever?”
Lu Zhuonian didn’t respond. Silent, he pinned Chen Zemian with practiced efficiency: one knee pressing against his lower back, right hand gripping his neck, left hand clamping down on his shoulder—a textbook grappling move straight out of a combat manual.
Ordinary people would struggle to break free from a hold like that.
But Chen Zemian wasn’t ordinary. The moment Lu Zhuonian pinned his left shoulder, he twisted swiftly to the right, elbow jabbing back at Lu Zhuonian’s arm to break the grip and destabilize the hold.
Lu Zhuonian’s reflexes were sharp. He caught Chen Zemian’s wrists in both hands and forced him back onto the bed.
The only difference this time was the position—Chen Zemian was no longer facedown but lying flat on his back.
Which made counterattacking even easier.
But Chen Zemian hadn’t come here to fight.
Given the current situation, Lu Zhuonian’s mental state seemed far more worrying.
Chen Zemian tried to move his wrist—but was immediately met with even harsher restraint.
Lu Zhuonian’s brows furrowed, his grip tightening as he growled, “Don’t move.”
Chen Zemian hissed under his breath. “That hurts!”
Lu Zhuonian leaned down slightly, gazing down at him with an icy, almost brutal expression. “Endure it.”
Chen Zemian wanted to—he really did—but Lu Zhuonian’s grip was too strong. It felt like his bones were about to snap. He was being held as if he’d committed some unforgivable crime.
Lu Zhuonian stared down at him coldly. There was no warmth in that gaze—not that of a friend, but something closer to a sworn enemy.
This wasn’t right.
Something was very wrong with Lu Zhuonian.
What kind of illness had taken hold of him to twist his personality so completely?
Worried, Chen Zemian asked, “What’s wrong with you?”
Lu Zhuonian didn’t want to see that familiar face—this illusion of Chen Zemian—looking at him with such concern. He reached out and covered the vision’s eyes with one hand.
Chen Zemian’s vision went dark, but one of his hands had finally been freed. Groping in the dark, he reached up and clasped Lu Zhuonian’s wrist. “Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”
A chill surged through Lu Zhuonian’s body, coiling and unraveling through his muscles like icy serpents. He trembled with weakness.
He didn’t want to be lured in by those eyes. The sound of a hallucination’s voice wasn’t something he wanted to be swayed by either.
So he slowly raised his other hand—and covered Chen Zemian’s mouth.
Even if it was an illusion, it was a disturbingly lifelike one—real down to the scale and warmth.
Chen Zemian’s face was small. Both of Lu Zhuonian’s hands easily covered it, leaving only the bridge of his nose exposed.
His fingers twitched ever so slightly, but sheer willpower held them in check.
Just for a moment, Lu Zhuonian wanted to smother this “illusion” to death.
It had lingered too long—long enough to make him contemplate more violent ways of dispelling it.
His fingertips curled ever so slightly.
He wanted it gone—but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Even as he blocked out the face that resembled Chen Zemian’s so vividly.
The veins at Lu Zhuonian’s temple throbbed with such force it felt like his skull would burst. In the blur of flashing lights behind his eyelids, Chen Zemian’s pale neck shone like porcelain.
And on it—a single crimson mole burned bright against the skin, searing into his vision.
Lu Zhuonian’s throat bobbed. Rational thought teetered on the edge of collapse.
Drawn by something dark and instinctual, he slowly lowered his head.
His lips brushed against that bright red mole on Chen Zemian’s neck.
Chen Zemian’s body froze. In a flash, he shoved the hand away from his eyes and stared up at Lu Zhuonian in disbelief.
Lu Zhuonian’s eyes were closed. Weakly, his forehead leaned against the pillow, brows knotted in pain. At his temple, veins pulsed beneath skin so pale it revealed a network of bluish vessels. His eyelashes fluttered faintly—delicate, like butterfly wings.
He looked like he was in agony. Sweat clung to his forehead and dripped down his nose, his body racked with tremors from the fever and involuntary muscle spasms.
Hot, humid breaths brushed against Chen Zemian’s cheek, burning so hot it made his ears flush.
Chen Zemian froze, brain going blank—he momentarily forgot what he was even supposed to say.
Lu Zhuonian, still leaning against the pillow, seemed to sense the shift in Chen Zemian’s breathing. Slowly, as if driven by primal instinct, he straightened up and dipped his head again, nose brushing the side of Chen Zemian’s neck.
The movement was raw. Animalistic.
The kind of thing a beast might do—sniffing its prey to see if it was fresh.
Chen Zemian’s heart thudded wildly.
This wasn’t the Lu Zhuonian he knew. He couldn’t predict what this man would do next.
But he wanted to know.
So he didn’t move.
There was a vague suspicion forming in Chen Zemian’s mind—an idea he immediately dismissed as impossible.
And yet… Lu Zhuonian’s lips had just touched his neck.
That… crossed a line.
Sure, brothers could joke around, even mess with each other physically—but kissing the neck? That wasn’t exactly in the rulebook.
Still, Chen Zemian couldn’t be sure.
His eyes had been completely covered at the time, and Lu Zhuonian had been trembling all over with fever. By the time Chen Zemian pushed his hand away, Lu Zhuonian was already slumped weakly against the pillow. So maybe… maybe it was an accident? Maybe he’d just slipped due to exhaustion and brushed him by mistake?
To verify whether Lu Zhuonian had done it on purpose or not, Chen Zemian kept quiet and decided to observe a little longer.
He would deeply regret this decision.
Because he never expected Lu Zhuonian to suddenly lower his head—and bite his shoulder.
Hard.
“Ow ow ow ow ow!!”
Chen Zemian jerked in pain, instinctively curling his knee up in self-defense, nearly kicking Lu Zhuonian clear off the bed.
What the hell?! So that’s what he’d been trying to do earlier—bite him?!
He knew it. He knew there was no way a protagonist from a male-oriented drama would just suddenly start kissing his little bro’s neck. No, when they couldn’t win in a fight—they bit.
Completely dishonorable!
Who bites people in a fight?!
“Let go! Hey, let go! Let go, goddammit!” Chen Zemian yelled, fingers threading into Lu Zhuonian’s hair and yanking backward. “Let go, you maniac—it hurts like hell!!”
Lu Zhuonian was like a wild wolf clamped down on a piece of meat. Once his teeth locked in, he refused to let go. No matter how Chen Zemian twisted and writhed, pain wracking his body, Lu Zhuonian remained immovable.
That spot on the shoulder was especially sensitive. Even a light pinch could make it ache for hours—let alone being bitten. With every movement, it felt like his entire body was seizing up from the pain. He couldn’t break free, and the harder he struggled, the worse it got. Tears were already beginning to well in his eyes.
What the hell kind of illness was this?!
Rabies?! Did Lu Zhuonian catch rabies or something?!
Determined to go down swinging, Chen Zemian gave up struggling and, with a flash of reckless resolve, arched his neck—and bit down on Lu Zhuonian’s opposite shoulder in the exact same spot.
Lu Zhuonian shuddered. The sharp pain snapped him out of his fog like a whipcrack, pulling his scattered consciousness abruptly back together.
Something was wrong.
Hallucinations might be vivid—but they weren’t supposed to hurt this much.
Which could only mean one thing…
Chen Zemian was really here.
Panic surged through him, cold and sharp—but the more anxious he became, the calmer he forced himself to appear. His mind raced, but his first action wasn’t to let go. Instead, while he and Chen Zemian were still locked in mutual shoulder-biting, he discreetly reached down and tugged the blanket up over the bed.
There were too many things on this bed that Chen Zemian couldn’t be allowed to see.
That pillow. His old pajamas. The bath towel. And that white hoodie—so filthy it was basically unspeakable.
As long as none of that got discovered… he could still talk his way out of this.
Lu Zhuonian’s breath was filled with the scent of Chen Zemian, and his entire body felt like it was being strung on wire, every nerve stretched taut.
He could even taste blood.
Startled, Lu Zhuonian finally let go.
Staring at the pain-stricken face before him, he seemed dazed.
Illusion and reality blurred, overlapping in his vision until he couldn’t tell one from the other. Dazzling spots of light warped across his retina, and even as he dug his fingernails into his palm, the pain wasn’t enough to pull his mind from the brink of chaos.
One thought echoed in his head as rationality teetered on collapse:
If your mind’s a mess—say less.
The less you speak, the less you’ll mess up.
Lowering his gaze to Chen Zemian, Lu Zhuonian said in a remarkably calm voice, “You’re back from Sanya.”
Chen Zemian finally released his bite and exhaled sharply. “God, you’re finally lucid.”
Lu Zhuonian climbed off him as if nothing had happened. “Mn.”
Chen Zemian sat up, rubbing his sore shoulder. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Lu Zhuonian didn’t answer.
Pain burned across Chen Zemian’s shoulder. He grimaced and pulled at his collar to check—only to find Lu Zhuonian’s bite had actually broken skin through the fabric.
He reached up and touched the bloodstained spot, hissing in pain, then looked up and asked, half-serious, “Do I need a rabies shot?”
Lu Zhuonian stared at the bite mark on his shoulder, his reaction half a beat too slow. “…Huh?”
Realizing his attention was still all over the place, Chen Zemian decided to simplify. He broke his question in two, and started with the more urgent one:
“Let’s focus. Do I need a rabies shot or not?”
Lu Zhuonian’s gaze shifted, moving from Chen Zemian’s shoulder to his face. “Either’s fine.”
Chen Zemian, oblivious to anything odd in Lu Zhuonian’s tone, got out of bed and opened the wardrobe. “Get changed. I’m taking you to the hospital. Might as well get me that rabies shot while we’re at it.”
Lu Zhuonian lay back down and pulled the blanket over himself. “Not going.”
Chen Zemian turned around. “Why not?”
Lu Zhuonian closed his eyes, as if replaying the question in his mind. After a long ten seconds, he opened them again and replied, with complete seriousness, “I don’t have rabies.”
“…”
So much for regaining sanity. He just looked normal. In reality, he was still running on some kind of internal system crash.
Chen Zemian had taken a red-eye flight and landed at home hoping to get some sleep. Instead, he got into a brawl with Lu Zhuonian, ended up bitten on the shoulder, and now his head was pounding too.
Still, he was clearly more functional than Lu Zhuonian.
Watching him, Chen Zemian couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “You’ve turned into a human bot now, and you used to lecture me.”
Lu Zhuonian’s face darkened. He didn’t reply—just frowned and gave Chen Zemian a cold, sidelong look.
Unfazed, Chen Zemian picked up the thermometer from the bed and asked, “How many days have you had this fever? Did you even go to the hospital?”
Lu Zhuonian’s brain felt like it was filled with boiling glue. Even forming a thought was laborious. He paused for a few seconds before answering, “It’ll go away in a few days.”
Chen Zemian rolled his eyes. “You’ll be dead in a few days.”
Lu Zhuonian looked even more displeased and gave him a withering glare.
Chen Zemian raised a hand to his forehead. “Burning hot. And you’re drenched in sweat.”
“It’s cold sweat,” Lu Zhuonian muttered.
“Oh, so you’d rather die than admit weakness, is that it?”
Lu Zhuonian stared at him for a few silent seconds. Then, suddenly, he asked, “Did you come back to see me?”
Chen Zemian nodded. “Of course. Ye Chen said you were sick, and I couldn’t get through to you, so I booked the earliest flight and came back.”
Lu Zhuonian picked up the alarm clock from the bedside table. Based on the time difference and flight duration, he quickly calculated Chen Zemian’s departure. “Five a.m. is ‘pre-dawn,’ not ‘morning.’”
“…You’re really fixating on that right now?”
Chen Zemian had no idea how to respond. He twisted open a bottle of water, grabbed a fever reducer, and handed it over. “Lu Zhuonian, are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital? Because I swear, it feels like your brain’s already fried.”
Without even checking what the pills were, Lu Zhuonian swallowed them dry. His ears were ringing so badly it sounded like a siren, and trying to process words was like piecing together fragments from underwater.
The conversation was stuttering, disjointed, more effortful than it had ever been between them. Chen Zemian grew increasingly frustrated and gulped down water just to keep himself from snapping.
Lu Zhuonian’s eyes, meanwhile, had drifted downward—staring at the way Chen Zemian’s Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. His pupils dilated slightly, and his attention clearly wandered again.
This time, Chen Zemian understood just how exhausting it was to talk to someone with no attention span.
Karma, honestly.
He sat down at the edge of the bed and checked Lu Zhuonian’s temperature again.
Five minutes later, it was still hovering near 39 degrees. Maybe a touch lower than before, but not by much.
“You really don’t want to go to the hospital?” Chen Zemian asked again.
Lu Zhuonian’s eyelids grew heavy. Maybe the sleeping pills from earlier were finally kicking in—he felt as if he were sinking, dragged down into a thick, dizzying whirlpool.
Eyes closed, he gave a soft “Mm.” “No need. I’ll be fine.”
Curious, Chen Zemian asked, “So what exactly are you sick with?”
Lu Zhuonian’s breathing had already begun to slow. He didn’t answer.
Chen Zemian had absolutely no instinct for taking care of the sick. He was like one of those heartless servant characters who wake sleeping patients just to feed them calming herbs.
He shoved Lu Zhuonian’s shoulder. “I asked you a question.”
—
Lu Zhuonian opened his eyes, looked at him, and calmly uttered two words:
“Sex addiction.”
*****
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Well…damn.
But honestly, doesn’t the symptoms also take the form of other disorders too…?
(I dunno)