Chapter 118: Chapter 118: Illness Worsens
The morning light forced its way into the room through the blinds in the window. Normally, Yue Ning welcomed the day with calm clarity, her thoughts already arranged, and her day completely prepared. But this morning, clarity was far from her.
Her body felt heavy, her skin flushed with unnatural warmth, and every breath burned in her lungs. When she stirred weakly, her lashes lifting against the weight of fever, the blurred image of a man sitting by her bedside slowly came into focus.
Huo Feng.
His tall frame seemed out of place in the delicate chair beside her bed. His head leaned back slightly, yet his posture remained stiff as though he had kept watch all night.
He had eye bags under his eyes which reflected his lack of sleep, but the moment she shifted, he became alert.
"You’re awake." His voice was low, but tinged with relief.
Yue Ning tried to offer a smile, though even the effort made her lips tremble. "You didn’t... sleep?" She forced out of her lips.
Instead of answering, he leaned closer, brushing his hand over her forehead. The contact was gentle, but his eyes darkened immediately.
"Your fever is worse," he muttered. "I should have forced you to rest yesterday."
Yue Ning’s instinct was to downplay it. "It’s nothing serious—"
"Enough." His cut her off instantly, fixing his stern gaze on her. He poured water into a glass and slid an arm behind her back, lifting her as though she weighed nothing.
The simple movement pressed her weak body against his chest, and she froze, startled by his warmth, the steadiness of his heartbeat so close to her ear.
"Drink," he ordered.
She obeyed silently, her pride slipping under the pressure of her weakness. When he set the glass aside and laid her down again, his brows remained knit in frustration.
"Cancel today’s plans," he said. "You won’t be seeing anyone."
Her breath caught in her throat.
Her one chance to meet the noble ladies, to begin planting seeds of trust, and to build a connection among them.
If she cancelled now... She didn’t wish to.
Her chest tightened, and it wasn’t just the fever. She could already imagine the whispers—Yue Ning, too frail to fulfill her word. Yue Ning, unreliable... and unsuitable. She could vividly imagine what would be said about her.
"I can’t cancel," she whispered hoarsely, pushing herself up. "I have already sent out the invitations."
Huo Feng’s hand immediately pressed her shoulder down, his tone sharp. "Lie down."
"But the gathering—"
"Do you want to collapse in front of them?" His voice rose, rough with impatience. "Do you think I care about those women’s idle chatter more than I care about you?"
The words stunned her into silence.
Care... about her?
She opened her lips, but nothing came out. Her body trembled from the effort, and she had no strength to argue further.
’It is better for you to listen to Huo Feng—your health is of utmost importance.’ The system’s mechanical voice resounded in her mind.
Huo Feng pulled the quilt tighter around her, his movements stiff, but the way his hand lingered for a moment betrayed a gentleness he perhaps didn’t even notice himself.
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By mid-morning, the villa stirred with news of her illness. The maids whispered while delivering letters, and by noon, the replies from the noble ladies arrived one after another.
"They said... it’s a pity," Huo Yan reported cautiously as she entered the room with a basket of letters.
She looked at Yue Ning’s flushed face and hesitated for a heartbeat. "But some of them... implied you might be delicate. That your constitution isn’t strong enough to host them regularly."
Yue Ning’s chest ached more than her fever at those words. She forced a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "I see. Thank you, Yan’er."
Huo Yan lingered, as though she wanted to say something comforting, but in the end, she only glanced at her brother, who stood at the window silently. Then she excused herself quietly, and the room fell back into silence.
Yue Ning sank deeper into the pillows, her thoughts wandering around. Every step she had planned, every move she’d mapped out had been ruined by her own body. She wanted to cry from frustration, but the fever stole even that strength from her.
She didn’t realize Huo Feng had moved until she felt a cool cloth press gently against her forehead.
Her lashes fluttered open, and she found him sitting close, his usual distant expression softened by something quieter.
"You don’t need to force yourself to prove anything," he said quietly. "Not to them and not to me either."
Her throat tightened with unsaid words. Why did his words sting more than the fever?
"I’m not... trying to prove anything," she whispered weakly.
"Then what are you doing, Yue Ning?" His gaze locked on hers, unwavering. "You push yourself until you collapse. For what? To make strangers approve of you?"
Her lips parted, but the truth caught in her throat. She lowered her gaze, turning her face slightly away.
He studied her for a long moment before sighing. His hand brushed damp strands of hair from her forehead, the touch unexpectedly tender.
"Sleep. I’ll be here."
Something in her chest shifted. The fever blurred her thoughts, made her weaker than she ever allowed herself to be. Yet instead of fear, she felt warmth creeping into the cracks of her guarded heart.
She closed her eyes, but before sleep claimed her, she whispered almost inaudibly, "Thank you... Feng-ge."
The room fell into silence again, but Huo Feng’s heart gave a single, unsteady beat at her intimate words. His eyes lingered on her pale face, the faint smile tugging at her lips even in sleep.
For the first time in years, he allowed himself to simply sit, to simply watch, and to wonder—when had she become someone he couldn’t bear to see hurt?
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The day slipped by with Yue Ning drifting in and out of fevered dreams. Each time she stirred, Huo Feng was there helping to adjust her quilt, cooling her brow, coaxing her to drink bitter medicine. She wanted to tell him he didn’t have to stay, but the words never came.
And as dusk fell, when the fever finally began to ease, Yue Ning woke up to find him still by her side, the faint glow of a lamp casting warmth over his features.
Her heart clenched. For a moment, she forgot the whispers, and the failed gathering.
All she could see was him.
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Far from the villa, in the bustling heart of the city, Song Kai satazily in a teahouse, his fingers tapping a casual rhythm against the porcelain cup in front of him. Two merchants nearby gossiped loudly, their voices loud without care.
"Did you hear? Young Madam Huo tried to host a gathering, but it was cancelled. They say she’s bedridden with fever."
Song Kai’s hand paused in his actions.
He furrowed his brows, his chest tightening with something strange. "Yue Ning is ill?"