Returning - Chapter 92
Chapter 92: A Worthy Opponent
Qingming was approaching, and there should have been three days of statutory holiday. But Xue Zhan had to go to Yandu on a business trip, which happened to occupy the entire Qingming break. This meant the assistant or secretary accompanying him would have no holiday at all.
Although there was overtime pay, nobody clearly wanted to go. So since Xue Zhan hadn't designated anyone, Gu Shuyang could only assign someone according to the business trip rotation schedule.
It was Wang Qi's turn, but Zhao Yu took the initiative to go in her place, which drew a surprised look from her: "Are you sick?"
Zhao Yu sighed helplessly: "Not sick, just broke. Driven by life's necessities, trying to earn some overtime pay."
"Who's going to believe that?" Wang Qi leaned in close to Zhao Yu mysteriously. "And you told me there was nothing going on between you and Director Xue anymore? Now you're even volunteering to follow him on a business trip. Could this be Director Xue's intention? Then why didn't he just name you directly? Why go through all this trouble with Special Assistant Gu?"
Zhao Yu looked completely innocent: "I really am just doing it for the overtime pay."
However, no one in the entire office believed this reasoning—including Xue Zhan.
When Gu Shuyang reported the result to Xue Zhan, he wasn't surprised. He only asked coolly: "Assistant Zhao volunteered?"
Gu Shuyang couldn't figure out what game these two were playing either. He could only answer honestly: "Yes."
Xue Zhan smiled faintly: "People like Assistant Zhao, with such a proactive work attitude, are rare these days."
Having been by his side for many years, Gu Shuyang had a gut feeling that the tone of this remark was a bit strange—not like a simple compliment—yet he couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly was off about it.
Yandu was rainy and overcast, much colder than Donghai. Zhao Yu had checked the weather forecast beforehand and prepared clothes warm enough.
But on the very first day of checking into the hotel, she secretly took a cold shower. She even deliberately set the air conditioning to its lowest temperature and, naked, let the cold wind blow over her. Sure enough, in the middle of the night, she came down with a fever.
She called the front desk and had someone bring a thermometer and fever reducer. But she didn't take the medicine; instead, she flushed it down the toilet. Then she kept checking her temperature to make sure it wasn't rising dangerously and wouldn't threaten her life. She held on like this until dawn.
When she feebly knocked on Xue Zhan's door in her pajamas, he visibly frowned: "What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry, Director Xue. I probably couldn't adapt to the weather here. I developed a fever last night. I asked the front desk for fever reducers, but they didn't help. Today... today I won't be able to accompany you to the meeting."
As she spoke, her eyes had already reddened, and her voice carried a tearful tone. "I'm truly sorry. I didn't know it would turn out like this. If I'd known earlier, I shouldn't have volunteered to accompany you on this trip. Now I'm delaying work..."
Xue Zhan showed no anger: "Enough, no need for all that. If you're sick, rest properly. I'll call the front desk to get you a doctor."
Zhao Yu obediently complied, curling up in her room and waiting for the hotel infirmary staff to come take her temperature. They even gave her an antipyretic injection. But she secretly submitted herself to the cold wind again, causing her condition to relapse, and her temperature didn't come down.
After finishing the morning meeting, Xue Zhan came to her room to check on her. The moment he felt her forehead, he was startled: "How is it even hotter?"
Zhao Yu looked utterly wronged: "I don't know either. I took medicine and got the injection, but it just won't get better."
Xue Zhan stood up: "I'm taking you to the hospital."
"No!" Zhao Yu grabbed his arm, shaking her head desperately, tears streaming down her face. "I don't want to go to the hospital. I'm afraid if I go, I won't come back. I don't want to lie in a cold, icy morgue. I don't want to..."
She looked both feverishly delirious and utterly pitiful. Even if standing before an ice sculpture, one would feel heartache at her miserable state.
Xue Zhan stared at her expressionlessly for a few seconds before speaking: "Fine, then I'll have the doctor come again."
This time, he stayed by her side, watching the doctor set up an IV drip for her, watching her lie on the bed and sink into deep sleep.
The afternoon meeting was about to start. He stood up, tucked the blanket around her, and prepared to leave. But she suddenly grabbed his arm, pleading in a half-asleep daze: "Don't go, don't leave me..."
Xue Zhan paused, watching her quietly: "Zhao Yu, I have to attend a meeting. Let go."
Zhao Yu not only didn't loosen her grip but hugged his entire arm tightly to her chest, pressing her face against it, rubbing restlessly. Murmured words continued from her lips: "Don't go, don't leave me alone. I'm so scared, so miserable..."
Her arm was sandwiched between the two soft mounds of her chest, rubbing back and forth. The distinct sensation made Xue Zhan absolutely certain—she wasn't wearing a bra.
In fact, he had already noticed when she knocked on his door this morning.
Two streaks of clear tears slowly slid from her tightly shut eyes, wetting her fever-flushed cheeks. She looked exquisitely pitiable.
But looking at her like this, Xue Zhan suddenly curved his lips into an enigmatic smile.
Then, suppressing his smile, he sat down beside her bed, reaching out with his other hand to hold her hand—the one with the IV needle inserted: "Stop fidgeting. The needle is going to slip."
The needle had already slipped long ago. Blood was back-flowing into the IV tube, and the back of Zhao Yu's hand had swollen into a bump. Seeing it was beyond saving, Xue Zhan simply pulled the needle out early.
At the pain in her hand, Zhao Yu flinched and retracted her arm, her eyes slowly opening. She looked at him dazedly: "It hurts..."
Her tone was nothing but grievance and coquettishness.
"Who told you to keep moving around?" Xue Zhan sighed and slowly placed his hand over her fingers, attempting to pry her hand open. "First let go of me. I'll go get your medicine. You can take it now."
Zhao Yu still looked at him with tear-filled eyes, unwilling to let go.
Helpless, Xue Zhan could only soften his voice to coax her gently: "Don't worry, I won't leave. I'll stay right here with you. Your fever hasn't broken yet; you must take the medicine."
Like a small, abandoned animal, she stared at him longingly for a long while before tentatively letting go, though she couldn't resist reminding him: "Then you can't lie to me. You have to stay here with me."
"Alright, I won't lie to you. I'll stay right here with you."
He fetched the medicine and poured water, coaxing her into swallowing it. When he tried to help her lie back down, she took the opportunity to wrap her arms around his waist, pressing herself tightly against him, tears streaming uncontrollably: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
Seeing her cry so sorrowfully, Xue Zhan could only pat her back: "It's fine. I can handle the meeting alone."
She still clung tightly to his waist, tears gushing forth like a tide: "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I'm sorry, Mom... I miss you so much, Mom..."
The blanket had long since slipped off. Her nightgown already had a very low neckline, and now it had revealed the two mounds of her tender, white breasts. When he looked down, he could even see a small area of her areolas.
And her full bosom was rubbing back and forth right against his groin, with only a thin layer of fabric between them—the sensation distinct, the stimulation lingering.
Glancing at a certain part of himself that was quietly changing, and then reaching out to check the not-so-high temperature of her forehead, Xue Zhan fixed his gaze steadily on the top of her head: "Zhao Yu, do you know what you're doing?"
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