The Best Medicine

Wen Rui had woken up disorientated one too many times in recent history. His head hurt and he felt like he'd been run over by a truck, his limbs slow to respond when he tried to move them. The sluggishness permeated his brain and his body.

What had happened? He remembered filming the final scene yesterday multiple times, bracing against the cold night wind as the fake rain poured down onto him. After that, he'd taken a Didi home because management was still ignoring his request for an assistant, their passive-aggressive brand of punishment.

And then what? He'd started sneezing, coughing, and even after a hot shower, he'd felt boneless with exhaustion, which could have been because he hadn't had a proper night's rest in ages but was more likely due to an oncoming cold. So he'd gone down to the kitchens for a glass of hot water to take some meds and…

That was all he could recall.

Wen Rui sat up and blinked blearily at his surroundings. He recognised the wooden wall panellings and grey sheets, with the understated zen lighting that highlighted the simple elegance of the decor. It still looked as uninhabited as Wen Rui recalled, that first night he showed up in here without any clue as to why.

This was Zhou Ye's bedroom. What was he doing in here? He was occupying the centre of the bed too, taking up all the available space, which meant that he'd displaced its owner. He wasn't sure if the embarrassment colouring his cheeks was due to inconveniencing Zhou Ye or some other reason.

The blackout curtains ensured that the room was a comfortable dark. But through a tiny gap near the floor, he could see that it was fully light outside. Wen Rui's mind finally kicked into gear and he realised with mounting horror that he was late for work. He tried flinging the covers back but a small twinge on the back of his left hand alerted him that he was hooked up to an IV line, a bag of clear fluids overhead still dripping at a snail's pace.

…was his illness that serious?

As though the patient's attempt to flee bed rest had triggered a silent alarm, the bedroom door swung open and Zhou Ye strolled in with a tray carrying a bowl with smoke still coming off it. Several small plates of simple dishes surrounded it.

Wen Rui froze under the weight of Zhou Ye's disapproving gaze. Zhou Ye didn't even need to open his mouth for Wen Rui to know that he wasn't going anywhere until he was fit enough to wrestle his way past the door.

He sneaked a subtle look at Zhou Ye's arm muscles. They weren't bulging out of his long-sleeved sweater but were well-defined enough that Wen Rui had to reevaluate whether he could beat Zhou Ye in a fight even without being sick as a dog.

"I have a full day of filming," he protested weakly. Or at least, he tried to. But his words came out in a hoarse, jarring croak and Wen Rui gave up the idea of going in to the set immediately after he heard himself.

The look Zhou Ye shot him was…well. It was identical to the unimpressed ones he used to give Wen Rui back in high school whenever Wen Rui did something he'd once thought to be incredibly cool but in hindsight was probably just stupid. Like that time he insisted on playing in the inter-class basketball tournament with a sprained ankle, just because his classmates were counting on him and they had no spare point guard. Or that time was so determined to beat Zhou Ye in the next assessment he skipped dinner to study and ended up in the hospital with a bleeding gastric ulcer.

It was a look that spelt out, in bold capitals and underlined with good measure, "You're an idiot."

Wen Rui…couldn't deny that. "At least let me call the director?"

"It's all been settled. I brought you breakfast," Zhou Ye's expression was dark as a thundercloud like he was pronouncing Wen Rui's death instead of announcing the arrival of food. But he was gentle when he fluffed up the ridiculous pile of pillows on the bed before pushing Wen Rui to recline against them. It should have been more awkward but Zhou Ye's actions were so natural that Wen Rui felt he was overthinking matters. It didn't stop him from jerking a little when a hot hand pressed itself against his forehead.

[Stop acting like a 16-year-old girl,] he scolded himself. It was just Zhou Ye checking his temperature. There was nothing to get jumpy over. Or worse, blushy.

"Your fever seems to have broken."

"You're a bad gauge," Wen Rui rasped around his scratchy throat, fingers fiddling with the sheets and plucking at invisible threads in a bid to distract himself from the pounding in his chest. "Your normal body temperature is like a furnace."

Zhou Ye raised an eyebrow. He didn't look over at Wen Rui, was busy testing the temperature of the bowl of plain white rice porridge he'd brought in. "You've noticed?"

There we go. Jumpy and blushy. Wen Rui had suspected that the latter hadn't been far behind. "It's obvious, anyone would have noticed!"

Zhou Ye's replying hum was non-committal. Wen Rui was torn between defending himself further and letting the matter drop. If he said too much it would feel like he was hiding something, which was ridiculous because he had nothing to hide. Anyone who had come into contact with Zhou Ye before would know this—

"Here. Stop thinking about nonsense and eat up." The bowl was placed into Wen Rui's hands, Zhou Ye's—just slightly—larger ones wrapping over them for a long second, as though he was making sure Wen Rui had a secure hold. "Don't spill anything on my sheets." He took a seat in the chair by the bedside table and crossed his arms.

Wen Rui accepted the chopsticks and picked at the ingredients inside. Zhou Ye had already piled the bowl up with some steamed halibut slices, mushrooms, and pickled vegetables. It was simple but homely and he suspected that Zhou Ye was responsible for it instead of Auntie.

"Thanks," he mumbled, bending his head over the bowl as he tucked in. He was nervous at first by the thought of Zhou Ye just sitting there and monitoring the entire eating process but Zhou Ye clearly had better things to do with his time. He was messaging furiously on his phone, his expression so serious that Wen Rui didn't think it could be anything but work.

He chewed on his lower lip. "Hey," he said, voice softer than usual as he was suddenly overcome by shyness about what he was going to say. "I didn't think that you'd stay home to…you know. Take care of me."

Instead of firing back with his usual snarky rejoinder, Zhou Ye's reply was sombre.

"Do you know where I found you?" he asked quietly.

Wen Rui chewed absentmindedly. Breakfast was probably not as bland as it tasted but he couldn't taste anything past the congestion in his nasal tract.

"The kitchens?" he guessed.

"Yes," Zhou Ye said. "Unconscious on the floor." His knuckles were white as he clenched his fists at the memory but Wen Rui was still eating and didn't notice. "I called for Uncle Li, your temperature went above 39.3. He advised IV fluids and antipyretics. We were really close to sending you into the ED."

A funny note in Zhou Ye's voice made Wen Rui look up at him. For a moment there, he could have sworn Zhou Ye sounded…scared. Not just worried but actually terrified that something would happen to Wen Rui. Now that Wen Rui was taking a proper look at him, he noticed a couple of things about Zhou Ye that was unusual. His hair had flyaway strands, his clothes were slightly crumpled, and his eyes were bloodshot like he hadn't gotten any rest the night before.

He probably hadn't.

Guilt welled up in Wen Rui. "I'm okay now," he said meekly. "Really. Zhou Ye, thanks for watching over me, you should get some rest too—"

"I'll rest after you tell me what happened." There was a vicious edge of finality to Zhou Ye's words. Wen Rui blinked up at him, uncertain about what it was that Zhou Ye wanted to hear.

"As in, why I'm ill?" he asked, flustered.

"And why Auntie said she hasn't seen you in the mornings for ages." Zhou Ye unlocked his phone, pulled up a screenshot, and showed it to Wen Rui.

It was a copy of Wen Rui's filming schedule.

Wen Rui stared, gobsmacked, at the photo. Before he could ask Zhou Ye why he that, Zhou Ye said, "Director Fu told me you had to film a rain scene multiple times yesterday night because of one actress. Is it the same actress whose schedule looks so much more reasonable than yours?"

What could Wen Rui say? He looked at Zhou Ye helplessly and the anger on Zhou Ye's face faded away to be replaced with something softer, so tender that it made Wen Rui's eyes smart.

"When were you going to tell me that you were being bullied?" Zhou Ye asked.