Fu Yuhan had a large cushion behind his head and no strength in his body. When Wen Yu walked to his side and leaned over slightly, it was as if he had trapped him on the bed.
In terms of presence.
Honestly, in all these years, Fu Yuhan had never felt dominated by anyone’s presence. Getting sick and still encountering this novel experience was something.
He blinked, his tone calm: “What are you doing?”
Wen Yu didn’t speak.
He just looked at him like this, letting silence spread. Fu Yuhan’s mind was heavy, and he inexplicably thought of a descriptive phrase—”observing experimental data.”
“What are you looking at?” Fu Yuhan asked.
This time Wen Yu answered, though it was nonsense: “Looking at you.”
“Do I look good?”
“Don’t you have any idea whether you’re good-looking or not?”
Fu Yuhan shook his head.
Wen Yu didn’t know if he meant “no idea” or “not good-looking,” but it didn’t matter.
This was Wen Yu’s first time entering Fu Yuhan’s room. The room had one bed, one desk, one wardrobe, and two shelves—half books, half miscellaneous items and small decorations. The most eye-catching was a Gundam model.
There were many small trinkets next to the Gundam.
Actually, the overall room style was quite simple, but Wen Yu inexplicably found this room very cute. Including Fu Yuhan’s pillow and blanket—sky blue checkered pattern, but because they were well-stuffed and puffy, even Fu Yuhan lying in them seemed to become fluffy.
He seemed to smell a bit fragrant, Wen Yu thought.
As his thoughts changed, his gaze changed accordingly. Fu Yuhan kept staring at him, and gradually felt something was off.
He frowned: “Although I don’t have strength now, I can still cause you trouble after I recover…”
Wen Yu suddenly came back to his senses and smiled: “Didn’t you say you’d repay me when you got better? Your repayment is causing trouble?”
“One thing at a time.” After Fu Yuhan finished speaking, his throat felt itchy and he turned his head to cough a few times.
The coughing seemed to briefly pull Wen Yu’s rationality back. His gaze flickered as he forcibly collected the messy thoughts in his mind, retreated to sit by Fu Yuhan’s chair, and opened his bag.
“I brought today’s test papers… but I see you don’t have much energy to do them.” Wen Yu said. “The homeroom teacher said today that after midterms, they’ll open a separate intensive tutoring class for students with unsatisfactory grades…”
He relayed the homeroom teacher’s announcement.
After listening, Fu Yuhan twitched his mouth and cursed quietly: “Damn.”
“So resistant?” Wen Yu asked. He thought Fu Yuhan had been studying hard recently and would welcome this kind of tutoring.
“No, I really want to participate.” Fu Yuhan frowned. “But I was planning to skip evening self-study to take art classes…”
This year’s art joint examination was in early December. The art teacher from Normal University had already reminded him to register a few days ago.
He hadn’t practiced much of the exam content, so to be safe, he planned to increase the frequency of art classes. But if the school organized tutoring, there would be a time conflict.
Fu Yuhan lowered his gaze, thinking.
Sick people really shouldn’t think about things—thinking just made him dizzy and confused. After pondering for a while with no clear ideas, he squinted: “Forget it… *cough cough*, I’ll think about it when I’m better.”
Being able to say this much while holding on was already good spirits for him.
“Actually…” At this moment, Wen Yu suddenly said, “If you need tutoring, you could also ask me.”
Fu Yuhan glanced at him.
“You just need to ask me.” He said.
Fu Yuhan smiled: “If you’re not awake, go back and sleep some more.”
“…Why so stubborn,” his phone rang, and Wen Yu stood up with his phone, answering the call while saying, “Fang Jiayuan and the others at least know to invite me to join their study group.”
Fu Yuhan was stunned.
Fu Yuhan knew about their study group—it was an organization of about ten people who would privately arrange to do homework together during evening self-study or weekend breaks, and also get together to discuss problems. It was more like a small clique.
Fu Yuhan could naturally be considered a member of the small clique, but he was at the top of the small group’s food chain and wouldn’t actively participate in any activities.
Previously, because of Sun Wenrui’s jealousy, that group of people hadn’t really interacted with Wen Yu. Now that they were inviting him meant…
Sun Wenrui had come around?
Fu Yuhan felt he should ask about this later.
The call was from the delivery person. Wen Yu grabbed his phone and went out to get it. He was ordering takeout at someone else’s house but showed no signs of awkwardness. Through the half-open bedroom door, Fu Yuhan seemed to hear him say something to He Yan again.
Wen Yu came back after quite a while, carrying two large bags.
“There’s a small table by the bookshelf.” Fu Yuhan lifted his chin. “What did you say to my mom?”
“Just pleasantries. Are you sure you want to hear?” Wen Yu said while placing things on the desk, taking out the folded bed table and setting it up, placing the legs on either side of Fu Yuhan’s waist.
“Never mind.” Fu Yuhan sniffled. “What did you order?”
“Vegetables.” Wen Yu took out the takeout containers. “What else does the patient want to eat?”
Fu Yuhan didn’t have anything he particularly wanted to eat, but his expression changed slightly when he saw the takeout container.
“Red Clay Kitchen…?”
“Yeah, I went there once not long after moving here. It was pretty good.” Wen Yu glanced at him. “What?”
Fu Yuhan shook his head and tried to sit up from the bed with pursed lips.
His movements were very slow and looked extremely difficult. Wen Yu was halfway through arranging the bowls when he couldn’t stand watching anymore. He put down what he was doing and went over to lift Fu Yuhan up by his arms—
Fu Yuhan almost threw up.
He turned his head to the side, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes physiologically reddening.
Wen Yu was stunned: “…Was I too rough?”
Fu Yuhan shook his head.
He took a moment to recover, blinked away the tears that had almost spilled out, and when his complexion returned to normal, he said softly: “No, it’s fine. I might be running a fever again. My medicine is in the left drawer.” He paused again. “Yang Fan also really likes eating at this restaurant. Every time he comes to this area, he always goes there.”
Yang Fan’s home was near First High, half a city away from here.
Coming once wasn’t troublesome, but it was far after all, so he didn’t come often. But out of ten visits, eight times he would eat at Red Clay Kitchen.
Many memories suddenly flooded back, and Fu Yuhan couldn’t quite describe what he was feeling.
Wen Yu helped him get his medicine and fed it to him with the half glass of water Fu Yuhan hadn’t finished, saying softly: “Then don’t eat it. I’ll order from a different restaurant.”
“Forget it, too much trouble.” Fu Yuhan drank all the water. “I’m hungry.”
To prove he really didn’t mind, he actively opened the food container.
Although the patient had a poor appetite and couldn’t eat much, Wen Yu could see that Fu Yuhan was making an effort to eat.
So—
What was wrong with being with him? Why insist on torturing himself?
Wen Yu really didn’t understand.
Originally, Wen Yu had been thinking of taking Fu Yuhan back to evening self-study together, but unfortunately, seeing him in person revealed he was quite sick.
A young man getting caught in the rain normally wouldn’t get this sick.
Wen Yu had an indescribable uncomfortable feeling. He always felt Fu Yuhan’s illness was largely related to his heartbreak.
Any desire to tease him completely disappeared when he saw Fu Yuhan’s particularly pale complexion.
After eating, Wen Yu left Fu Yuhan’s share of homework and prepared to say goodbye and return to school.
“Hey, wait a moment.” Fu Yuhan called him. “Could you help me with one more thing?”
“What?”
“Help me ask Ge Ran for her notes. I’ll photocopy them and return them.” Fu Yuhan said. “Otherwise I’ll fall too far behind.”
He had already been working hard to fill in gaps on his own recently. If he wasn’t really too sick to get up, he wouldn’t even want to take leave.
First, he’d fall behind in progress, and second, staying at home was really suffocating.
Wen Yu looked at him and sighed: “Fu Yuhan, do you remember or not that your desk mate has very good grades? Didn’t you used to quite enjoy taking every opportunity to boss me around?”
“…That was because you picked on me first.” Fu Yuhan said. “How is now the same…”
“What’s different about it?” Wen Yu shook his head. “Forget it, I understand. I’ll help you talk to Ge Ran.”
He left after saying this.
Wen Yu’s timing was very precise. From Fu Yuhan’s house back to Class 6’s classroom, the evening self-study bell had just rung.
The noisy chatter in the classroom suddenly stopped.
After about five minutes, Fang Jiayuan from the front row quietly squeezed over: “Brother Yu, can I ask you something?”
Wen Yu looked up: “?”
Fang Jiayuan came over with the notebook he’d taken from Wen Yu, pointing to a line of text: “What does this mean?”
He had written too concisely. The study group members had passed it around and discussed it but couldn’t figure it out.
Wen Yu glanced at it and suddenly remembered Fu Yuhan’s request to borrow notes.
“Give it back to me.” He extended his hand. “I’ll do you guys a good deed.”
Fang Jiayuan: “?”
“Wait for me to write a new version, then you can look at it.” Wen Yu said. “I’ll try to make it comprehensible to humans.”
##
(advanced chapters available on kofi)
