Safe and Sound (1/2)
Su Zesui was sick, running a high fever of 39.8°C.
His head was dizzy, his thoughts muddled, and he barely had any awareness, letting the man tend to him however he wished. It wasn’t until an ice pack was pressed to his forehead that he slowly regained some clarity.
The first thing he did upon regaining a fraction of his senses was to weakly shake the man’s arm and insist, “Int—interview.”
“The time’s already passed.” Gu Yilan glanced at the phone; it was already 9:10 AM. “Just rest.”
“I’m doomed… wuwuwu.” Su Zesui scrunched up his little face in frustration.
He felt guilty—he had missed the interview with A City’s local TV station, such a major media outlet, and disappointed the fans who had booked spots for the interview, which had reached over 100,000 reservations.
“You’re not doomed.” Gu Yilan listened as the boy muttered to himself. “The TV staff all understand, and your viewers care about you. Once you feel a bit better, you can check your phone yourself.”
Hearing this, Su Zesui tried to push himself up with his weak, aching arms. “I—I want to see it now.”
Gu Yilan propped him up with a pillow, took his phone, and pulled up his social media account.
His phone had no passcode. Half an hour earlier, Gu Yilan had posted a public note in the voice of “big brother,” explaining that Su Zesui had unexpectedly fallen ill and couldn’t attend the interview.
The man, who usually disliked explaining or clarifying things, this time even thoughtfully took a photo of the thermometer. With both image and text, it was very persuasive.
In just half an hour, thousands of comments had already flooded in:
[Take care, Baby Suisui, health comes first. Everything else can wait (hug)(hug)]
[Rest well. No live streams until you’re fully recovered.]
[High fever relief tips: wipe with warm water, cold compress, proper ventilation, stay hydrated, take medication, rest enough, wear light clothing, seek medical attention if needed…]
Even though his brain felt like it was full of mush and moving it even slightly caused a splitting headache, Su Zesui still scrolled through every single comment.
Thousands of comments—none critical, not a single one expressing disappointment. Everyone was considerate of his feelings and concerned for his health, reminding him to rest.
Su Zesui sniffled, his heart tender with emotion. For the first time, he actively engaged with others without being forced, replying to a few comments and posting a pinned message: [Thank you all, I’m feeling much better.]
Yet, when his gaze fell on Gu Yilan in the couple’s outfit they had picked together, a small frown appeared.
Noticing the unwavering look directed at him, Gu Yilan returned with a fresh ice pack and said, “Finished checking? Lie down and rest a bit; the doctor will be here soon.”
Obediently, Su Zesui lay back, staring at the pristine white ceiling and waiting quietly as the man replaced the ice pack. Then, in a soft voice, he said, “Going public… no more.”
Gu Yilan paused mid-motion. “There will be plenty of other chances.”
Perhaps because of the illness, Su Zesui sounded pessimistic. “But this chance is gone.”
Seeing Gu Yilan lean down, as if to comfort him with a gentle hug, Su Zesui weakly raised his hand and pushed the man’s shoulder. “N—no hugging yet.”
Gu Yilan chuckled, “You’re so delirious with fever, and you still remember?”
Su Zesui, confused by his own words, repeated, “No hugging… no hugging.”
A man’s embrace always had a magical effect. Every time, pressing against his strong muscles, feeling his powerful heartbeat, Su Zesui felt fully present—untouched by the outside chaos, sorrow, or pain.
He could rely on him at any moment. Any touch, any spark of warmth, would be accepted unconditionally.
But for the sake of the people who loved him, and the ones he loved, he had to cultivate strength now.
Unsure if his refusal had hurt the man, Gu Yilan turned to step away.
Su Zesui, dizzy and fevered, half-closed his eyes, and weakly parted his lips, wanting to explain, to comfort. But within seconds, Gu Yilan returned.
Then, the man grasped his hand and slipped a silver ring onto his ring finger. The icy coolness against his fevered skin was soothing.
Using the last of his strength, Su Zesui slightly lifted his hand and saw the diamond ring glinting in the natural light—clearly a wedding band.
Instinctively, he looked at the same finger on Gu Yilan’s hand and saw the matching ring, accentuated by the man’s long, elegant fingers. Even more beautiful.
Su Zesui couldn’t help but softly exclaim, “Wow.”
Gu Yilan held his scorching hand, picked up the phone on the pillow, and took a photo of their hands with the rings, then returned the phone to him with a teasing smile. “A new chance has come quickly.”
Su Zesui turned slightly, looking at the photo on the phone, understanding that Gu Yilan had handed him the choice again.
To post or not to post—it was entirely up to him.
Su Zesui made a decision in a second, came up with the caption in three seconds, posted both the image and text in five seconds, and then put down his phone, completely drained, lying limply on the bed.
With all worries resolved, the tension in his heart eased, and he could truly rest.
The boy’s phone lay unlocked by his pillow, every detail displayed plainly, visible in Gu Yilan’s gaze—
[Actually, me and Brother Gu Yilan (picture)]
. . . . .
The private doctor soon arrived at the master bedroom, carrying a medical kit. After a thorough examination, however, he looked increasingly perplexed.
“It doesn’t seem like a viral infection, nor heatstroke. The immune system checks out fine…” the doctor said. “Strange. We still can’t figure out the cause of the fever. I’ll prescribe some antipyretics first and see if they help.”
Gu Yilan nodded slightly and followed the doctor out of the room.
On the large bed, Su Zesui lazily opened his heavy, tired eyes. His throat was parched, and his head throbbed.
He looked at his hands lying weakly at his sides, curling his pale fingers slightly, sensing something slipping away through the gaps between them.
Since the cause of his illness couldn’t be determined for now, the doctor could only prescribe routine fever medicine—but it barely helped.
Over the following days, Su Zesui’s condition showed no improvement. The high fever persisted, and he remained awake only briefly each day.
The posts he had shared on social media gained some traction again. Though the biggest wave of attention had passed, many followers still checked in daily, asking about his condition.
Unfortunately, Su Zesui didn’t have the energy to go online or respond to those who cared about him.
The doctor came by several times a day, even organizing a panel of experts specifically to study Su Zesui’s condition and treatment—but nothing worked.
The fever felt like a natural disaster: origin unknown, no weaknesses to exploit. Even the seasoned doctors were helpless.
One day, after the doctors had collected blood samples and left, Su Zesui weakly called, “Brother…”
Hearing him, Gu Yilan sat on the edge of the bed, running his hand through the boy’s black hair. “Don’t worry,” he comforted. “I’ve arranged for specialists abroad. You won’t have to suffer for much longer.”
Su Zesui managed a faint smile. His voice was barely audible. “Brother… I want to tell you something.”
He could feel that something was wrong. His body and mind were deteriorating, without reason, without cause.
Such a supernatural occurrence would be abnormal for anyone—except him.
Half of his soul belonged to another world, for he was a traveler from another world.
Everything that made him uncomfortable now seemed like a warning, signaling that something terrible was about to happen.
Su Zesui could sense the presence of that event.
——Could it be… that he was about to travel back?
“Hm? What is it?” Gu Yilan leaned slightly closer.
Su Zesui curved his eyes slightly and, touching the ring on his ring finger, whispered a secret he had kept for days: “Actually… our relationship in the other world wasn’t good at all.”
Gu Yilan was silent for a moment, then said hoarsely, “I guessed as much.”
“You didn’t like me,” Su Zesui continued softly. “I flew over to see you, but you didn’t want to meet me.”
Gu Yilan’s lips parted, as if to say something, but in the end he only said, “…I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Su Zesui said weakly, his words punctuated with shallow breaths. “Do parallel worlds have misaligned timelines? I remember, in my previous world, no one bullied me until high school. But here… I was already bullied in middle school.”
“If the connection is strong…” Gu Yilan lowered his gaze. “…it’s possible.”
Su Zesui tried to smile. “That’s good. In this world, you like me. Maybe being rejected in the previous world wasn’t the end. You might still like me in the end. You said it yourself—we’re the same person.”
“What do you mean?” Gu Yilan frowned, sensing something amiss.
“Nothing really… It’s just… I think I’m going to travel back.”
Gu Yilan replied without hesitation, “Impossible.”
Su Zesui, already drowsy, wanted to sleep but still asked, following the man’s lead, “Why?”
“Time travel requires a ‘door’ and a high-energy ‘key’ to open it. Neither condition is met here, so it’s impossible.”
“What if the other-world version of you has already figured out the ‘door’?” Su Zesui asked. “My whole body is burning… um, with biomass energy.”
“Trust me, Suisui,” Gu Yilan said. “No conditions are met. The other-world me can’t create the door, and your biomass energy is far from the required high energy.”
Exhausted, Su Zesui could barely keep his eyes open. He had no energy to argue further and said instead, “I trust you, Brother… Let’s skip the hug for now… we can later…”
His voice grew fainter, and by the last word, he had drifted back into the void of sleep.
Su Zesui didn’t know if Gu Yilan was merely comforting him.
But even if there was only a small chance of staying in this world, he wanted to persevere, desensitize himself, and become stronger—preparing for a possibly brighter future.
If, in the end, he still couldn’t escape his fate of traveling, then… he could at least share one last embrace before leaving.
Su Zesui slept until the afternoon sun began to set.
For someone sick like him, day and night had lost all meaning. But no matter when he woke, Gu Yilan was always by his side.
That evening, just as he opened his eyes and was about to sit up for a drink, he felt something heavy hang around his neck.
Instinctively, he looked down.
It was a jade pendant of pure green, smooth and polished like creamy jade. The craftsmanship was exquisite, with a natural luster, as if some ancient power flowed within. Its value was immediately obvious.
“Peace Jade.” Seeing the boy staring at the jade pendant, Gu Yilan fed him some water while explaining, “It can protect you. Stay in this world, safe, healthy, and lucky.”
Su Zesui gulped down the water from the man’s hand before asking, “Do… you actually believe in these superstitions?”
“For you, I do,” Gu Yilan replied.
Su Zesui caressed the smooth, warm jade, reluctant to let it go. “Then… I believe too.”
Gu Yilan brushed the boy’s striking black hair from his forehead. “You won’t travel back. And even if some accident really did happen, I’d find a way to come for you. Will you trust me one more time?”
Looking at the doctors about to enter the room, Su Zesui obediently lay back down, preparing for another checkup. He murmured weakly, “Of course.”
The panel of specialists had finalized their diagnosis and arranged a special medication for him.
The medicine was potent, with noticeable side effects. Not long after starting the IV, the boy, who had just woken up, began to feel drowsy again.
Holding the jade in his hand, savoring its cool, comforting touch, he slowly closed his eyes, whispering, “I wish we could never be apart…”
The prolonged high fever, like some cruel joke from heaven, finally subsided that night, dropping to a moderate fever.
It happened so suddenly that the multiple courses of medicine prepared by the specialists hadn’t even been used.
They couldn’t explain why; it was attributed to a combination of the special medication, the jade, and the boy’s positive mindset.