As for my aunt and cousin, they hadn’t had their fill of fun yet and initially wanted to stay longer, saying they would leave later. However, they suddenly received a call from my uncle, who urgently insisted they return home immediately due to some matter, suggesting they could visit Zhaoran’s home again in a couple of days since the two families lived quite close to each other.
Indeed, my stepmother had caught a chill. Shortly after returning home, she complained of extreme fatigue and retreated to her room to sleep. She remained asleep until around 7 p.m., well past the time she usually started preparing dinner.
Growing concerned, Zhaoran pushed open the door to her room and stepped inside.
The room was pitch black. Zhaoran turned on the light, revealing an uncomfortably stuffy and hot environment. Despite the weather being over 30 degrees Celsius, the air conditioning was off. His stepmother was bundled under the blankets, her delicate face flushed a deep red, with beads of sweat glistening on her forehead.
Just as Zhaoran approached the bed, the screen of her phone on the nightstand lit up, displaying a new message notification.
Zhaoran glanced at it and saw it was from his so-called father. The message stated that he had returned from his business trip but was going out for a meal with friends first and wouldn’t be coming home immediately.
Zhaoran snorted inwardly and promptly ignored the message.
“Stepmom?” Zhaoran called out as he moved closer. She seemed barely conscious, responding only with a faint “Mmm…” before drifting back to sleep.
Zhaoran patted her arm over the blanket, but she didn’t respond.
Now worried, Zhaoran noticed her intensely flushed face—a clear sign of fever. He placed his hand on her forehead and compared it to his own. Hers was noticeably burning with fever.
It’s all my fault, he thought. He hadn’t considered that the slide would require waiting in line on a floor open to drafts from all sides. Someone as delicate as his stepmother naturally had weaker resistance than a young person. Wearing a damp swimsuit, she was bound to catch a chill when exposed to the wind.
Filled with self-reproach, Zhaoran hurried to the medicine cabinet and retrieved cold medicine and a cooling patch. He poured a glass of hot water, first applying the cooling patch to her forehead before attempting to wake her for the medicine.
“Stepmom, you need to wake up and take your medicine. You’ve caught a cold.”
When Zhou Yun woke, her eyes were dazed and lifeless. She touched her own forehead weakly. “I’m so tired, Xiaoran. Please have dinner by yourself. When you get to my age, you just can’t handle this kind of exertion.”
Zhaoran sat on the edge of the bed, helping her sit up. She glanced at the clock on the wall and asked, “Where’s your father? Isn’t he back yet? I remember him saying before his business trip that he’d return today.”
Zhaoran acknowledged with a noncommittal “Mmm,” making sure she was steady before handing her the unpacked cold medicine and then the glass of hot water. “I saw the message he just sent you. He told us to go ahead and eat without him. He said some old friends are in town, and he needs to play host and entertain them.”
Stepmother seemed slightly disappointed but simply murmured “Mmm” in response. She took the medicine and lay back down. “I don’t know what’s gotten into your father lately. All he does these days is hang out with these so-called friends.”
Zhaoran tucked the blankets securely around her and cracked open a window for some fresh air. “Don’t worry about that now, Stepmom. I’m going to make some congee. You should get up later, have a bit to eat, and then go back to sleep.”
Zhou Yun didn’t respond; in that short time, she had already fallen back asleep.
Zhaoran turned off the light, then went to the kitchen and prepared some noodles for himself. He also set the rice cooker to prepare congee. Wanting to make it more appetizing for his stepmother, he added some dried scallops to the plain congee, ensuring it wouldn’t be completely bland.