Employees need a reason to skip work.
But bosses don’t.
So when Jiang Tang arrived at the office in the morning and noticed Shen Yihan’s absence, she simply made a call.
He told her over the phone that he wouldn’t be coming in today.
She hung up without further questions.
Some work required his approval in the morning, but he hadn’t responded to her messages.
It was a little odd, but she didn’t dwell on it.
Seeing Lin Mo’s message, she frowned. [What’s wrong with President Shen?]
Lin Mo replied quickly, [We went night swimming in the lake last night. I was afraid he’d catch a cold—he’s been feverish and hasn’t woken up.]
Night swimming?
Jiang Tang could swim too, so she replied, [Next time, invite me along, Mo.]
It had been a while since she’d seen her, and she missed her.
Lin Mo: [Next time, for sure.]
Grabbing her coat and car keys, Jiang Tang headed to Shen Yihan’s house.
She did have the housekeeper’s number saved.
But since Lin Mo had asked her to check on him, she decided to go in person.
Stepping out of the office, she turned back.
There were a few documents that needed signing—might as well take them along.
The drive from Starlight Group to Shen Yihan’s villa wasn’t far, just thirty minutes.
When she arrived, she knocked on the door.
The housekeeper answered, greeting her politely, “Miss Jiang, you’re here.”
Auntie Zhen was sitting on the sofa watching a cheesy CEO drama.
Spotting Jiang Tang, she stood up happily. “Jiang, you’re here!”
She peeked behind her, eyes dimming slightly when she saw no one else.
It had been too long since she’d seen Lin Mo.
She missed her.
Jiang Tang noticed Auntie Zhen’s disappointment and softened her usual cool expression. “Mo will definitely come visit this weekend.”
The scar-faced man had already woken up, and she’d been keeping tabs on the police investigation.
Mr. Xie’s people were handling it too.
Auntie Zhen brightened. “Great! I’ll wait for the weekend.”
Jiang Tang smiled faintly before turning to the housekeeper. “Has President Shen gotten up?”
The housekeeper shook her head. “Not yet. Little An called and asked me to make ginger soup for his sister, so I prepared a bowl for President Shen too. But no one answered when I knocked, so I didn’t disturb him.”
The housekeeper usually didn’t enter the master’s room without permission.
Jiang Tang tucked the files under one arm and walked to Shen Yihan’s door.
She knocked.
No response, as expected.
She turned the handle and stepped inside.
She’d been in this bedroom a few times before—usually when dropping off a drunk Shen Yihan.
The room was decorated in a sleek, monochrome style, with a photo of Lin Mo still sitting on the nightstand.
Approaching the bed, she saw the handsome man lying there, his face flushed.
Frowning, she set the files aside and pressed a hand to his forehead.
“He really is burning up!” She withdrew her hand and shook his shoulder. “President Shen, wake up!”
No reaction. He was completely out.
Jiang Tang rolled up her sleeves, went to the bathroom, and wrung out a cold towel.
She placed it on Shen Yihan’s forehead.
Then she fetched the first-aid kit, took out fever-reducing medicine, and poured a glass of water.
The problem was, he was unconscious. How was he supposed to take the pill?
Jiang Tang had no choice but to shove the pill into his mouth, then prop him up against the headboard.
Bending over, she held the glass in one hand while pinching his cheek with the other, forcing his mouth open to drink.
She had no experience with this and used a bit too much force.
The next second, Shen Yihan’s eyes snapped open.
The first thing he saw was Jiang Tang’s coldly beautiful face looming over him. He scowled. “What are you doing?”
His voice was hoarse, unintentionally husky.
Startled, Jiang Tang immediately let go. “Giving you medicine. President Shen, you have a fever.”
Shen Yihan’s head spun, and his body felt weak, but he stubbornly took the glass with his beaded wrist. “I’ll do it myself.”
He swallowed the pill and drank a few more sips of water.
Just as he was about to hand the glass back, Jiang Tang said, “Since you’re awake, you might as well sign these documents.”
Shen Yihan: “…”
Shen Yihan closed his eyes. “Jiang Tang, are you a demon?”
After receiving Jiang Tang’s update—that the so-called “Buddha of Beijing’s elite” was fine, just feverish but improving after taking medicine—Lin Mo felt relieved.
The Buddha himself also messaged, asking how she was doing.
Lin Mo replied briefly before drifting back to sleep.
Her head still throbbed.
In her haze, she wondered if those two guys from last night had caught colds too. She’d forgotten to exchange contact info with them.
Lin Mo slept straight through until evening.
A maid brought dinner—a light but fragrant porridge that was incredibly delicious.
After eating, she felt much better, her mind clearer.
Then she caught a whiff of something sour.
She asked the maid, “Do you smell that?”
The maid sniffed. “A little.”
Lin Mo frowned. “What is it?”
The maid’s lips twitched. “I think… it’s you.”
Lin Mo: “…”
She lowered her head and sniffed herself—her clothes, her hair.
Oh god. It was her.
She’d been too exhausted to shower after last night’s swim.
A whole day later, she’d practically marinated in her own sweat!
She scrambled out of bed. “I need a shower. Could you change the sheets, please?”
The maid reached out in alarm. “Miss Lin, you can’t shower right after a high fever!”
Lin Mo heard her, but the stench was unbearable.
After showering and washing her hair, Lin Mo’s dizziness returned.
She ignored it, blow-dried her hair, and collapsed back onto the freshly made bed.
Xie Guanyan had stayed home all day. In the evening, after making porridge, he left for a work matter.
By the time he returned, it was past nine.
Perfect timing—he could now tell Lin Mo that his Europe business trip had ended early.
Standing outside her door, he knocked.
No answer.
Asleep again?
He turned the handle and stepped inside, immediately noticing the girl on the bed had changed into fresh pajamas.
She’d showered?
Xie Guanyan’s brow furrowed as he approached quietly.
Her eyes were shut tight, cheeks flushed.
He pressed a hand to her forehead—and recoiled at the heat.
His expression darkened.
The fever was back.
Not as bad as this morning, but still high.
She needed medicine.
After retrieving the pills and water, he didn’t bother hiding this time. “Lin Mo, wake up.”
He called her name several times.
Finally, her lashes fluttered, and her eyes opened.
The first thing she saw was his striking face.
Groggily, she mumbled, “You’re back?”
Before he could answer, she shook her head. “Xie Guanyan’s not due back for six months. This must be a dream.”
If it was a dream… then she could be bold.
Staring straight at him, she commanded, “Xie Guanyan, go down on me.”
