Chapter 21 The other party initiated a cohabitation invitation

Huaixu rarely spoke such disheartening words to others, but this time, for some reason, the words just tumbled out in the flow of conversation.

It was an oddly intimate topic for their level of acquaintance. Only after speaking did he belatedly realize how heavy the subject was and hurriedly shifted gears with a smile: "Senior, aren’t you about to start your residency soon? Which hospital are you planning to go to?"

……

After dinner, Xie Kaiyan drove Huaixu home.

When he opened the door, Jing Zhengxuan wasn’t there. Huaixu sent him a message but didn’t get an immediate reply, so he set his phone aside and picked up a book to wait on the sofa.

He flipped it open but couldn’t focus, reading only a few words before putting it down again.

This was unusual.

Ever since the incident in their childhood, he and Jing Zhengxuan had made a pact: no matter where they went, they had to inform the other to avoid worry.

Huaixu laughed at himself, thinking his concern was excessive. His childhood friend was an adult—he had his own life. What if he was out on a date and couldn’t reply?

He picked up the book again but still couldn’t concentrate. His eyes skimmed the words while his mind buzzed with unease.

Jing Zhengxuan’s knee hasn’t fully healed yet—what if he fell while walking?

Huaixu propped his chin on his hand, gnawing anxiously on his thumb.

Before long, the sound of the door opening startled him. He rushed to the entryway. "Where did you go?"

Jing Zhengxuan looked at him, the light in his eyes flickering for a moment before he suddenly pulled Huaixu into a tight embrace. He rested his head on Huaixu’s shoulder, closing his slightly reddened eyes as he took a deep, restrained breath.

The familiar, sweet peach scent unique to Huaixu filled his nostrils, and he held on even tighter.

Huaixu must live a long life.

I’ll make sure he lives a long life.

Huaixu patted Jing Zhengxuan’s back in confusion. The height difference forced him to crane his neck, which quickly grew sore, but he didn’t push him away.

Sensing something off about Jing Zhengxuan’s mood, he asked softly, "What’s wrong?"

Jing Zhengxuan didn’t answer, nuzzling his head against Huaixu’s shoulder as a large hand cradled the back of his neck.

After another deep breath, he finally spoke in a calm tone, "It’s nothing. Just let me hold you for a while."

Though his voice sounded normal, Huaixu inexplicably detected a fragility in it—like an antique porcelain plate accidentally knocked to the ground, shattered beyond repair.

Huaixu’s heart clenched. What happened to him?

He continued soothingly patting Jing Zhengxuan’s back. "Okay."

—

That very night, Huaixu was rushed to the hospital for acute gastroenteritis.

The doctor prescribed IV fluids, and as usual, Jing Zhengxuan arranged for a private hospital room. The infusion ward was too crowded, noisy, and prone to cross-infections. Even if it were just a single session, Jing Zhengxuan would insist on the best conditions for Huaixu—let alone when the treatment spanned three days.

The cause was simple: the extra dash of sauce at dinner.

Huaixu’s stomach was that delicate, requiring meticulous care. Even slightly salty food or improperly heated meals could trigger an episode—the same went for water temperature, which was why he always carried a thermos.

Huaixu felt a pang of guilt. He’d assumed the restaurant had under-seasoned the steak, but it turned out his taste buds were off.

But why had the steak tasted bland to begin with?

He glanced at Jing Zhengxuan, who appeared composed, though his fingers trembled uncontrollably by his sides, unable to even form a fist.

When gripped by panic or fear, people can’t hold onto anything—not even their own strength.

After hearing Huaixu’s "another 19 years" remark and then rushing him to the hospital, it was impossible for Jing Zhengxuan not to be shaken.

Unaware of his thoughts, Huaixu only felt worse seeing Jing Zhengxuan’s slightly pale face.

I always make him worry. I always put him through this torment.

Taking a steadying breath, he ignored the pain and grasped Jing Zhengxuan’s trembling hand, forcing his voice to stay even as he mustered a smile. "Don’t worry, I’m fine."

Jing Zhengxuan interlaced their fingers. His striking yet cold phoenix eyes were bloodshot, his brows furrowed so tightly they nearly merged. His lips parted, but in the end, he managed only a strained smile and a nod.

Soon, a senior nurse arrived to insert the IV, and they reluctantly let go.

Due to his health, Huaixu’s veins were thin and fragile, prone to displacement. Only the most experienced nurses dared to handle his IV—both to spare him pain and to avoid Jing Zhengxuan’s wrath.

They’d witnessed his fury after a botched insertion and never wanted a repeat.

Once the IV started, Jing Zhengxuan finally relaxed slightly.

Standing by the bed, he gazed at Huaixu’s pallid face, now glistening with a thin sheen of sweat from the pain. A few strands of hair clung to his forehead, amplifying his sickly appearance.

The medication needed time to take effect, so Huaixu was still in discomfort, his brows faintly knitted as he clutched his stomach, his lips pale.

Jing Zhengxuan filled a hot-water bottle and placed it over Huaixu’s abdomen, then prepared a smaller one to warm the IV tube.

The fluids were too cold—he didn’t want Huaixu to suffer more.

After these tasks, he fetched a damp towel to wipe Huaixu’s face, gently brushing back the hair stuck to his forehead.

Huaixu offered a weak, apologetic smile. "It’s so late. You should get some rest."

Jing Zhengxuan looked down, his cool brown eyes soft yet swirling with unreadable emotions.

He ruffled Huaixu’s hair, exhaling softly before murmuring, "Move back in with me."

His tone was light, but his gaze brooked no argument.

Lying in the hospital bed, Huaixu studied the man beside him.

To distract himself from the pain, he’d been lost in thought the entire way here—Jing Zhengxuan’s anxious face, the injury on his knee, where he’d gone tonight, what would happen if he started dating…

Amidst the jumble of thoughts, Jing Zhengxuan’s presence dominated them all.

The warmth from the hot-water bottle spread through his abdomen, the IV fluids slowly seeping into his veins. Huaixu’s body relaxed slightly; the pain seemed to ease.

The corners of his lips lifted faintly as he replied, voice steady, "Okay."

Jing Zhengxuan froze for a second before tousling Huaixu’s hair again, his heart a tangle of emotions.

Why does Huaixu’s smile feel so fragile, like it could shatter at any moment?

—

For the next three days, Huaixu attended classes before being whisked to the hospital by Jing Zhengxuan for his IV sessions.

The dormitory withdrawal process would take a few more days, so Huaixu remained on campus temporarily.

The week passed in a blur of lectures, IV treatments, and rehearsals for the university anniversary celebration—until Friday, when Xi Qing unexpectedly arrived in Jincheng.

After his afternoon class, Huaixu planned to wait for Jing Zhengxuan at the business school as usual so they could head home together. But Xi Qing found him first.

After exchanging pleasantries, Xi Qing asked Huaixu to accompany him shopping.

Thinking of Jing Zhengxuan, Huaixu hesitated. "What about A-Xuan?"

Xi Qing looped an arm through his, unfazed. "Relax, he’ll come find us the moment his class ends."

With no other choice, Huaixu sent Jing Zhengxuan a quick message.

He was puzzled, though.

Xi Qing had always been impeccably proper. No matter how fond he was of Huaixu, he’d never sought alone time with him—Jing Zhengxuan or Huaimo were always present.

This solo shopping trip clearly had ulterior motives, but since Xi Qing wasn’t volunteering explanations, Huaixu played along.

Inside a luxury boutique, Xi Qing pointed at several items on display. "This one, that one, and those—find his size and wrap them up."

Xi Qing loved buying clothes for Huaixu.

Tall and slender with a model’s frame, Huaixu could make any outfit look runway-ready. Sometimes Xi Qing didn’t even check sizes—no matter the fit, Huaixu carried it effortlessly.

As always, Huaixu protested, "Auntie Qing, there’s no need. I have plenty of clothes."

And as always, Xi Qing played the emotional card. "It’s the season change—you need warmer layers. I rarely visit. Would you really send me away disappointed?"

Cornered, Huaixu could only concede with a smile. "Then thank you, my dearest Auntie Qing."

"Much better." Xi Qing eyed him approvingly.

Once the clothes were packed, they browsed other stores, chatting as they walked.

"You’ve been exhausted lately, haven’t you? You look worn out," Xi Qing observed, studying him.

Huaixu touched his face. "Do I?"

Xi Qing’s gaze turned sympathetic. "You’re ghastly pale. Has Zhengxuan not been taking proper care of you?"

Huaixu laughed it off. "Probably just busy lately. A-Xuan’s been juggling nonstop—of course he’s looking after me well."

He omitted the stomach episode. No need to worry Xi Qing or let his mother find out.

At this, Xi Qing’s brows lifted slightly. Casually, she probed, "Zhengxuan’s been busy?"

"Yeah." Huaixu nodded.

They entered another high-end boutique.

Xi Qing pressed, "With what?"

"Not sure exactly. He’s been secretive about it—won’t tell me when I ask." Then, pointing to a black handbag, Huaixu told the clerk, "We’ll take this one."

He swiftly pulled out his own card. "Auntie Qing, this bag suits your elegance. You rarely visit—you can’t deny me this small gesture, can you?"

Xi Qing shook her head, equal parts exasperated and doting. "You…"

In the next store, Xi Qing circled back. "Has Zhengxuan been spending time with anyone new lately?"

The question made Huaixu realize Xi Qing’s true purpose—probing about Jing Zhengxuan.

He mentally reviewed recent events, the pieces rapidly falling into place:

The unexplained outings. The person he’d been close to. The obvious conclusion—

Jing Zhengxuan has someone he likes.

He’s going to start dating.

Or maybe he already is.

A sudden tightness gripped Huaixu’s chest. He dug out a candy from his bag.

The sourness made him wince.

He stared at the wrapper. Since when did I pick lemon flavor?

---

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