Chapter 24

Chapter 24: Chapter 24 — Deadly Cute.

Jian Qing unconsciously loosened his strength.

He hadn’t used much force when closing the door; if it really got pinched, it would probably leave a bruise.

Even if the “transmigrator” was extreme in his pursuit, he wasn’t insane enough to hurt himself just to approach the protagonist. Standing a little dazed in place, Jian Qing thought that compared to him, He Linfeng looked more like he was seriously ill.

Even though he had only been here once, the man moved as if it were his own home—quickly changing into slippers, bypassing him, and placing the paper bag in his hand onto the coffee table.

Jian Qing silently began questioning the safety of the residential complex.

“I drove your car. Of course the property management let me in,” the room was too dark. He Linfeng reached out, grasped the pull cord of the floor lamp, and said, “Close your eyes.”

click.

Various pieces of furniture were instantly outlined in a soft warm yellow light.

“Vegetable porridge. I bought it on the way,” He Linfeng said, radiating the reliability of a mature man. “Or what do you want to eat? I can cook it now.”

Jian Qing slowly shifted his gaze to the still-sealed takeout bag.

He thought he had hidden it well, but in reality it was obvious—his emotions were practically written on his face, clearly indicating he was a bit dazed from the fever.

He Linfeng looked both helpless and amused, raising both hands in surrender. “Or should I try a bite first?”

Jian Qing didn’t respond.

He Linfeng took that as consent, opened the utensils, and took a “test bite” in front of him. Only after swallowing did he go to the kitchen to get a clean spoon.

“Eat something first before taking medicine,” seeing the young man finally move to sit on the sofa, He Linfeng joked, “Turns out being a CEO is such a dangerous job.”

He had intended it as teasing, to ease the stiff atmosphere, but Jian Qing seriously lowered his eyes. “Mm.”

In novels, domineering CEOs often get drugged and end up forming fated romances with their partners. Transmigrators eager to complete missions often imitate these clichés, causing many melodramatic incidents.

Jian Qing could only hear the conversations between transmigrators and systems; when they were calm enough, they were almost indistinguishable from “native residents.”

He deeply understood the flaws of this so-called “mind-reading,” so he treated every person trying to get close to him with equal suspicion, every sudden kindness as something to verify. He spent enormous effort proving things until one day he realized that as long as he rejected all “good,” he could easily avoid all “bad.”

It made him safe—but also isolated.

After all, the “original resident” whose body had been taken would never return. Jian Qing could never be sure whether his close friends or family would one day, in their next meeting, turn into “monsters” controlled by systems and transmigrators—using proximity as an advantage to better capture the “protagonist.”

For example, the real Yu Xiumei he had once met only briefly.

If Bei Shao had not always remained unselected by the system and never mentioned by transmigrators, then no matter how persistent they were, Jian Qing would still find it difficult to get close to them.

He Linfeng was an exception among exceptions.

A public security officer unaffected by the protagonist’s halo showing interest in him—Jian Qing had never imagined encountering such a person, and thus had no experience to rely on.

He had gone far too long without interacting normally or simply with anyone.

“Has the murderer been caught?” After a long pause, Jian Qing cautiously tried to bring up a topic He Linfeng would be interested in, considering that the man had come to visit him out of goodwill. He should at least respond appropriately.

He Linfeng, who had been waiting for the continuation of the conversation: …

He took out the thermometer gun from the bottom layer of the medicine box, aimed it at the young man’s forehead, and after two seconds, held the result in front of him.

Jian Qing: ?

“Thirty-eight point three,” He Linfeng read out the number word by word. “What you should be worrying about right now is yourself.”

Jian Qing said calmly, “Actually, I think I’m fine.”

Except that his feet felt like they were stepping on cotton.

His skin was pale and thin; at the corners of his eyes, two obvious flushes had been burned out by the fever. His eyes were also more moist than usual. Combined with his messy hair and cotton home clothes, he looked soft—without even realizing it.

This was the second time He Linfeng had seen Jian Qing like this.

Just like last night, standing behind the door with a towel over his head—adorably fatal.

So he honestly expressed his praise.

He immediately earned a cold sideways glance from the young man: “You want to get beaten?”

He Linfeng: “…No.”

What had he just said again?

Staying last night was, in fact, dangerous—for both himself and Jian Qing.

But—

“If getting beaten can earn me a head pat…” He Linfeng dodged to the side with quick reflexes, avoiding the young man’s aggressive but weak follow-up elbow strike, and laughed. “Alright, alright.”

“I’ll go boil some water.”

The sneak attack failed. Jian Qing picked up his spoon again, and only after confirming that the man’s footsteps had disappeared into the kitchen did he frown and reach up to touch his own hair.

Not interested in his face?

This guy really had a strange range of preferences.

The effects of the fever were quite severe; there was a faint bitterness at the base of his tongue. He could barely taste the original flavor of the vegetable porridge, yet he still managed to drink more than half before taking his medicine.

When he woke again, the apartment was quiet.

The blanket was pulled tightly around him. Jian Qing had sweated a thin layer of moisture, but at least he felt better than before. Staring at the ceiling for a while, he squinted and turned on his phone.

Saturday, 2:50 a.m.

In his memory, the last time he went to Baisha Street was Thursday.

There were several new emails requiring his approval, and besides those, He Linfeng’s unread messages were pinned at the top, along with a string of missed calls.

The bedroom door gap was dark; the other person should have already left as instructed before he fell asleep. Throat dry, Jian Qing got up on his own to pour water in the living room.

But there was a curled-up figure on the sofa.

The back of the couch was high enough, and He Linfeng’s breathing was light enough that Jian Qing only noticed him when he walked around to the front. His movement of reaching for the cup paused—instinctively, he didn’t want to make a sound.

After hesitating for a long while, he finally took off his shoes, went barefoot back to the bedroom, and brought out an unused blanket. From a distance, he draped it over the man.

Under the tree with yellowing leaves, Wang Lai squatted on one knee, staring face-to-face with Mimi inside a pet carrier.

The serious crime unit was on weekend break, and the cat had been left in the office with no one to care for it. Old Zhou originally wanted to find a local adopter, but Captain Yan felt that a cat which had stepped on a corpse at a crime scene and been shown all over North River City in photos would either be shunned or turned into a gimmick, and thus couldn’t be casually entrusted to someone.

In the end, it was Fox He who stepped up, saying his home was empty and could take it in. Who would’ve thought that not long after leaving work last night, this guy delivered the cat—carrier and supplies included—to Wang Lai, saying he had an urgent matter and would meet at XX Pet Hospital tomorrow.

And the result was…

Wang Lai looked up at the bright sunlight. It was almost noon, and he still hadn’t seen any sign of that “fox,” except for a phone call telling him not to leave.

The pet hospital was only five hundred meters from He Linfeng’s residential complex—he could’ve crawled there and still arrived.

“Yo,” five minutes later, seeing a familiar figure in the distance, Wang Lai said half-deadly, “Finally decided to grace us lowly folk with your presence, huh?”

Normally it was He Linfeng sleeping until he woke naturally, using the other person’s phone as an alarm clock, so Wang Lai was only joking and not actually annoyed.

Lifting his arm in a “rise” gesture, He Linfeng bent down and picked up the carrier: “The sofa and blanket were too comfortable. I accidentally overslept.”

Wang Lai followed behind: “Did you buy new furniture again?” This guy, no matter where he went—even in dorms—always made his place extremely comfortable.

He Linfeng: …

Business at the pet hospital was booming. Wang Lai wasn’t sure when He Linfeng would arrive, so he didn’t go inside to wait. But as he pushed open the glass door, he suddenly heard the other ask, “Did you eat breakfast?”

Wang Lai shook his head: “Nope.” A rare day off—sleeping in was obviously more important.

He Linfeng gave an “oh,” dragging the ending sound long, then added, “I ate.”

Wang Lai: ???

He thought this guy was going to buy him something.

And what’s so impressive about breakfast anyway? Did he secretly go to a Michelin three-star restaurant?

Before Wang Lai could complain about any of this, He Linfeng was already engaging in friendly communication with the front desk while holding Mimi, discussing things like checkups, vaccinations, and deworming—things Wang Lai only half understood.

Not someone known for being meticulous, Wang Lai didn’t even have a pot of succulents at home. But he remembered He Linfeng once had a Samoyed, so he asked, “What about Mantou?”

He Linfeng: “After transferring to the criminal investigation unit, work got busy, so I left it with my parents.”

Large dogs have endless energy and need to be walked every day, so he hadn’t brought it with him to North City this time. More importantly: “It’s called Yushu now.”

Wang Lai couldn’t hold back a laugh: “Nice, the son became the older brother.”

“Your seniority got downgraded.”

“I don’t really care,” He Linfeng scratched Mimi under the chin, “I just don’t know if it’s willing.”

The nurse listening in lowered her head, trying hard not to laugh, her face turning red.

But it was obvious—He Linfeng had a natural “animal magnetism.” Even when Mimi was held down by him to cooperate with the vet for an injection, it didn’t resist at all.

“By the way,” during the break while Mimi was being bathed, He Linfeng casually asked while picking cat food and litter, “Is Jian Qing afraid of blood?”

Wang Lai picked up a toy mouse on a string: “Not really. He was completely normal during the investigation.” Otherwise they wouldn’t have shown him crime scene photos so directly.

That would’ve been inhumane.

“I remember when you first met, he got injured. If he really fainted at the sight of blood, Jia Xiangyu would’ve already succeeded.”

He Linfeng paused: “But he was really uncomfortable that day.”

“Too nervous?” Wang Lai guessed. “Or just ask him directly.”

You’re already going on dates—what’s the problem with asking this?

He Linfeng: …

He suddenly felt a stab to the heart.

Besides, the reason he was asking wasn’t to pry open Jian Qing’s wounds under the guise of understanding him, but to try to prevent similar situations in the future—psychological issues related to blood usually have reasons far removed from anything pleasant.

“Buzz.”

The phone screen lit up, and without even looking, Jian Qing knew it was He Linfeng.

What came into view was a somewhat familiar black cat—emerald-green eyes, its fur glossy and smooth, completely unlike the vicious and sinister image that had once circulated about it. It lay on its back in the sun, belly being rubbed, tail limp, wearing an expression of pure comfort, perfectly matched with the silly grinning dog-head beside it.

Even the hand looked familiar.

Long fingers, clearly defined knuckles, brimming with strength—recently the same hand that had blocked his door gap.

Judging from the background, the photo was most likely taken at He Linfeng’s home.

Overflowing affection.

Fingertips brushing over the barely noticeable missing triangular notch on the black cat’s left ear because of its color, Jian Qing thought.

Perhaps he didn’t need to be so resistant to He Linfeng’s kindness. In that man’s eyes, taking care of a sick him was probably no different from taking care of a sick little animal.