Chapter 16

016.

Lu Yuan had eight papers to memorize. If he really pushed himself, memorizing two a day meant Bai Yu could only quiz him four times, and he'd only have to face Bai Yu four more times.

But memorizing two papers a day was way too difficult.

The sky could fall and the ground could swallow him whole—Lu Yuan wished he could just burrow into the floorboards of Bai Yu's study.

But when he looked down, the grout lines were so perfectly sealed he couldn't squeeze in at all.

Holding his stiff lower back, he maintained that ridiculous pose—one hand braced on the sofa armrest, half-standing, one foot awkwardly poking into the oversized slipper—with a look of total resignation, thinking gloomily: Screw it, let everything burn. We'll all go down together.

But before dying, he might need to go to the hospital for his back.

It was hurting more and more.

His eyelashes trembled from the pain, but remembering how he'd blurted out "I'm really fine, I'm already perfectly fine now" when Bai Yu asked earlier, Lu Yuan could only swallow hard and toughen it out, then start urging: "Weren't you going to quiz me? It's getting late. Hurry up and quiz me so I can go home and sleep—since staying up late is bad for me."

Bai Yu watched Lu Yuan quietly for a moment, then nodded. "I'm not used to people towering over me. Sit down."

Pointing at the sofa beneath Lu Yuan, the man rose and picked up a stack of papers from the coffee table. The title on top read, in bold: *Research Progress on Sleep Deprivation and Vascular Endothelial Function Injury*.

Lu Yuan: "..."

His back hurt too much to sit down.

He kept his face stiff, forcing a serious expression: "I'm used to reciting standing up."

Bai Yu paused mid-page-turn, lifting his eyelids to look at him. His usual deep, aloof phoenix eyes seemed softer under the light—less sharp and piercing, carrying an ambiguous, knowing look. "Used to reciting standing up?"

Lu Yuan nodded emphatically: "Mm."

Bai Yu: "Fine. Then stand tall. I don't like seeing people all hunched and slouched."

Lu Yuan: "..."

He couldn't stand straight.

The tiny voice in his head was sobbing buckets. Lu Yuan, face pale, steeled himself and stubbornly tried to bargain: "It's no big deal to make an exception once in a while, right, Mr. Bai?"

"Is that so? But I never do things that put me out."

Suffering?

Watching someone with a killer S-curve figure recite papers counts as suffering? Does the man have no taste or eye for beauty?

Lu Yuan was steaming with rage, his round cat eyes blazing, itching to kick his slipper off and hurl it at the man's face—when Bai Yu unexpectedly repeated his earlier question: "So did you twist your back or not?"

Lu Yuan: "..."

He couldn't bring himself to say that line again: "No, no, no. I'm really fine, I'm already perfectly fine now."

The boy's fair, handsome face instantly fell, even the red mole at the corner of his eye seemed to droop. His crimson lips pressed into a thin line. As the seconds ticked by, he swallowed hard and whispered: "I twisted it. It really hurts."

Beijing, Cheng'an Public Hospital, ER.

Lu Zhuo, who was on shift in cardiology, heard his little brother had been rushed to the ER, set aside what he was doing and strode into the department.

Lu Yuan slumped in the wheelchair, his pale, doll-like face looking completely deflated. Beside him stood the long-legged Bai Yu, dressed in a black long cashmere coat, his phoenix eyes dropped to the CT scan in the ER doctor's hand. The light softened his natural aloofness, making him look almost like a real person.

"What's the situation?"

"Director Lu." The ER doctor greeted him first, handing over the report. "Just a twist—nothing major. If it hurts a lot, use pain-relief patches and cold compresses for the first couple of days. After 48 hours, you can do some light heat therapy and massage. Just don't lift anything heavy, stay out of cold drafts, and avoid strenuous exercise."

"Okay, thanks for your help."

Lu Zhuo took the prescription slip. Bai Yu pushed the wheelchair, and the three of them headed down the corridor.

Lu Yuan felt uncomfortable and spoke weakly: "Second Brother, what are you doing here?"

"Bai Yu texted me, so I came to check on you." Lu Zhuo glanced at his face and clicked his tongue. "You poor little thing."

Lu Yuan: "...Can the poor little thing get out of memorizing papers?"

Lu Zhuo looked at Bai Yu. The man's eyes were slightly lowered, fixed on the top of Lu Yuan's reluctant head, his voice faint: "We'll discuss it when you're better."

Lu Yuan: "..."

Capitalists really have no heart!

He's even tormenting a patient!

Lu Zhuo couldn't leave his post for long. After handing the ointment to Bai Yu, he ruffled his younger brother's soft black hair and said, "I've already arranged with Bai Yu for him to look after you for the next couple of days. Take good care of yourself and recover, and if anything still hurts, make sure to tell Bai Yu."

Wait, what? Bai Yu was going to look after him?

Lu Yuan's disbelief was written all over his face. Bai Yu, the man in question, explained: "To make it up to you."

Lu Yuan: "..."

He got it.

Since his twisted back was partly Bai Yu's fault for stopping short on the steps, Bai Yu's way of making it up to him was to take care of him.

Logically it made sense, but something just felt wrong.

"Alright, it's getting late. It's over an hour's drive to Songlan Mansion from here—hurry back and get some rest." Lu Zhuo checked his watch. "I'm off the day after tomorrow. I'll come see you."

"Okay, Second Brother, you rest well too."

Late at night, a few snowflakes drifted outside the hospital entrance. The surroundings were silent, only the red glow of the "Emergency" sign illuminating the dark.

Bai Yu opened the car door, bent down to grab a prepared cushion and placed it on the passenger seat, then turned to look at Lu Yuan.

The indomitable Young Master Lu, broken body and all, was struggling to test the ground with his foot, still wearing those cursed fuzzy slippers—white and fluffy against the thin layer of snow. Gripping the wheelchair armrests with both hands, he gathered his strength to stand—

A pair of hands hooked under his armpits, and with a cold expression, Bai Yu lifted him up. Then a knee pressed against his rear, an arm slipped under his legs, and he was scooped up again and deposited into the car.

The whole sequence was swift and natural.

Lu Yuan: "..."

Fine. A princess carry is a princess carry—it's not like it hasn't happened before.

But that knee was way too hard. It hurt his butt.

The drive back to Songlan Mansion was quiet, and even Lu Yuan, whose inner monologue was usually a chaotic mess, stayed unusually silent.

At a little past four in the morning, he had dragged himself out of his warm, soft bed to cram his thesis. In the afternoon, afraid of being quizzed at night, he hadn't dared to nap. After barely getting through the day, he'd wound up in this mess by nightfall—Lu Yuan was exhausted and drowsy, wishing the car could magically turn into a bed on the spot.

He reached behind him to touch his aching waist, squinted, and let out a big yawn. As tears brimmed in his eyes, he decided to stop pushing himself, rested his head against the window, and drifted off into a hazy dream.

At a red light, Bai Yu turned to glance at the small sliver of profile not swallowed up by the darkness.

He remembered when the Lu family had found Lu Yuan, how Lu Ke and Lu Zhuo had eagerly boasted to him: "A Cheng is so pretty and well-behaved—you'll like him the second you see him."

Well-behaved?

If faking being good counts as being good, then sure.

*

Lu Yuan only woke up when the pain in his waist hit him as he rolled over in his sleep.

Struggling to open his sleepy eyes, he let his blurry gaze drift to the ceiling. The dim light showed a bedroom completely different from what he remembered. He instinctively turned his head and saw a dark gray quilt, a white nightstand with a small desktop humidifier on it, its mist rising gently, and a figure stepping out of the bathroom, not obscured by the vapor.

All sleepiness vanished.

Lu Yuan lay flat on his back, watching the man stride closer, his fingers slightly red, holding a rolled-up towel.

"You're awake? I'll put a cold compress on it. Can you turn over?"

Lu Yuan froze: "You're going to put a cold compress on me?"

This—this is totally unnecessary, right? It'd probably shorten my life! And besides, this little task would be something his motherly butler, the perfect Chen Chi, would be more than happy to handle.

He asked cautiously, "Where's Chen Chi?"

Bai Yu: "You're in my villa."

Lu Yuan: "..." So the unfamiliar quilt and humidifier really weren't Chen Chi's doing, but rather that kindly old housekeeper's work.

Lu Yuan was momentarily at a loss for words, tightening his grip on the quilt. In the silence, he heard Bai Yu ask, "Not happy about it?"

He couldn't exactly come out and say no.

Lu Yuan mumbled, "It's not that, it's just—it feels kind of weird."

The man stood on the left side of the bed. His height always made him look down with a condescending air, but the casual tone in his voice softened his cold features: "What's weird about it? Isn't it all just taking care of you?"

Lu Yuan: "...?"

Huh? Is that how you say it?

He eyed Bai Yu suspiciously and shot back, "So you're not bothered by it?"

Bai Yu: "No, I'm making it up to you."

Lu Yuan: "...I can't turn over. It hurts when I put any force into it."

Honestly, he could turn if he tried, but the pose would be ugly—he'd have to move slowly like a turtle rolling over. As a twenty-year-old who still cared about his dignity and image, Lu Yuan didn't want to cosplay a turtle in front of Bai Yu.

The edge of the bed suddenly dipped as Bai Yu pressed one knee onto the mattress, his trousers tightening instantly, showing off the powerful strength in his legs. The quilt was flipped open, a chill breeze brushing against his legs, and then cool fingertips grabbed his knees.

Wait, wait!

Lu Yuan jerked his head down and almost passed out: "Where are my pants?!"