Sickly Bigshot CH 19 Fever
Translated by The BL Muse (ko-fi)
Qin Yancheng and Shi Zhou’s respective fanbases were locked in a chaotic battle over the trending ship hashtag. While fighting it out, they were ironically boosting its popularity even further.
Spotting shippers discreetly “looking for sugar” (TN: moments to support the ship) only made both sides even angrier. “What double the ecstasy?” some fans raged. “This is internal betrayal!”
But the shippers argued back with fervor. The ultra-stylish but slightly oversized trench coat Shi Zhou wore on the red carpet—didn’t it look exactly like the one Qin Yancheng had on when they took their seats? How could anyone not get it?
Shi Zhou had returned the coat to Qin Yancheng after the red carpet, borrowing a warm down jacket from backstage instead.
Even though Qin Yancheng’s footage was fleeting and framed to protect privacy, and he had been sitting the entire time so the coat wasn’t fully visible, people still managed to Sherlock Holmes their way into spotting the match and sugar-coating the moment.
Shi Zhou scrolled through Weibo and thought, these people really are Holmes reincarnated. Sharp-eyed and relentless!
The sugar wasn’t even the most shocking part. In some obscure, tucked-away corner of the fandom, he found a fic. A spicy one.
Shi Zhou wasn’t new to erotic stories or smut. But reading one with his own name as a character? That was a whole new level of stimulation. The immersion feels were disturbingly strong.
Of course, the other male lead was Qin Yancheng. Shi Zhou imagined that cold and elegant face, and then—based on the fic—how Qin Yancheng would forcefully press him onto the bed, kiss him roughly, and then…
Having seen Qin Yancheng in a bathrobe far too many times lately—and having clumsily tried to change his clothes during that one drunken night—Shi Zhou had basically seen Qin Yancheng half-naked, and could mentally fill in the gaps for a vivid picture.
He didn’t even know what emotion he finished reading the entire thing with—blushing, short of breath, knees weak. Absolutely overstimulated.
But then, he couldn't help but sigh and lament that after two lifetimes, he was still a virgin. Not even as bold as the fanfiction version of himself, who could tease, seduce, and ultimately be reduced to sobbing pleas.
God, the more he pondered the weirder it was!
Shi Zhou flung his phone away like it was radiating inappropriate vibes. The term “ChengZhou” was now visually unsafe for him.
Trying to clear his mind of explicit imagery, Shi Zhou decided to get back to work and check the schedule his agent had sent for the upcoming Qixing annual gala.
Whatever the event’s agenda—praise, criticism, pep talks—none of it mattered to him. As a salted fish (slacker), he just wanted an excuse to eat, drink, and be entertained.
Just then, the door to Qin Yancheng’s room clicked open. Shi Zhou looked up and saw his face flushed an alarming red—clearly running a fever.
So that so-called “it’ll be fine after a night’s sleep” low-grade fever had predictably worsened due to a complete lack of care.
Shi Zhou immediately sat up. “You’re burning up.”
Qin Yancheng just croaked out a hoarse “It’s fine,” like Shi Zhou had asked whether he’d eaten, utterly calm and collected.
But Shi Zhou noticed his hand trembling around a glass of water. He took the glass, filled it with warm water, and told him to go lie down. He then checked his forehead and neck.
—Shi Zhou judged that you could probably crack an egg on him and cook it through. Efficient and eco-friendly.
Qin Yancheng, delirious from the fever, lay with eyes closed while Shi Zhou paced around. The thermometer beeped twice.
“Holy crap—thirty-nine degrees?!” Shi Zhou shouted.
Just to be sure the thermometer wasn’t broken, he took his own temperature—36 degrees and change. So it was working fine. No wonder Qin Yancheng was barely lucid.
“Come on, we’re going to the hospital. What if that pretty brain of yours melts?”
Qin Yancheng, barely conscious, only caught the word “hospital” and suddenly opened his eyes, fierce and absolute. “I’m not going!”
Shi Zhou was alarmed not only about the high fever but that it might induce acute illness. “You’re nearly at forty degrees! Are you trying to die?”
Qin Yancheng’s gaze turned dangerous again. “I said I’m not going.”
Shi Zhou could tell he was on the verge of another mental-breakdown-tier outburst. Please don’t lose it like a lunatic again, he silently prayed.
After weighing his options, he said, “Fine, no hospital. But did you take antipyretics? Should I call a doctor to come here?”
Still, Qin Yancheng shook his head. “Leave me alone... cough…”
Resigned, Shi Zhou went downstairs to ask Aunt Zhang for the family doctor’s number—only to discover there was no doctor. The man was so allergic to doctors he didn’t even have one on standby.
So Shi Zhou settled for asking about fever meds. Aunt Zhang handed him some, clearly worried. “Mr. Qin doesn’t like being taken care of when he’s sick. He gets angry.”
She was indeed warning Shi Zhou out of good intentions. Qin Yancheng’s temper was legendary. If he hadn’t shouted someone out of the room already, he was probably holding back.
Aunt Zhabg also knew that Shi Zhou wasn’t a saintly patient soul either. In fact, the both of them might even get into a shouting match.
For the sake of their relationship she warned Shi Zhou.
Naturally, Shi Zhou wasn't a masochist nor did he want to provoke Qin Yancheng, but considering that the man was scripted to die around this time, he would feel guilty if he just stepped back. So, Shi Zhou still took care of Qin Yancheng, feeding him the meds, sticking children’s fever patches on his forehead, and just doing his best.
Qin Yancheng fought him like he was being poisoned. If not for his weakened state, Shi Zhou wouldn’t have been able to pin him down.
He finally got him to open his mouth and poured in some water—not gently. By the time it was over, Shi Zhou was drenched in sweat.
As he tucked Qin Yancheng in and adjusted the air conditioning, he heard the man muttering through clenched teeth, “I’m not sick… I’m not sick…”
Shi Zhou, knowing that this was fever talk, rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure. You’re perfectly healthy. May you live to a hundred.”
He tiptoed out of the room, muttering bitterly to himself. Why’d he have to be so tall? I couldn’t drag him to a hospital even if I tried. If the fever didn't go down after a while, he would have to contact a doctor to come to the house to see him and give him an injection or an IV drip or something.
His phone buzzed. A message from Xin Jing.
Shi Zhou had already looked him up. Despite his easygoing attitude, Xin Jing was a big-name variety show director with powerful parents—a station director dad and a famous dancer mom.
He texted Shi Zhou with a tone that sounded suspiciously like a shipper. No matter how Shi Zhou explained last night, he refused to believe that there really wasn't anything going on between him and Qin Yancheng. “How’s Qin Yancheng? Acting normal?”
Shi Zhou laughed. Looked like Qin Yancheng's mental state was public knowledge. He texted back: “Not normal. Running a high fever, refuses to go to the hospital or see a doctor. Had to force him to take medicine.”
Unexpectedly, Xin Jing replied like it was a relief: “At least he took it. He didn’t cuss anyone out? Wow, see, it’s different with you.”
Shi Zhou didn't know whether to laugh or cry: “It’s not about me! He’s just too weak to throw a fit.”
Xin Jing thought, you haven’t seen him at his worst. The man could wake from a near-death experience and still rage so hard it took two doctors and a sedative to calm him down. Who even knew where all that strength came from.
After over an hour, Qin Yancheng’s fever had risen, not fallen. Shi Zhou finally called a doctor while he was passed out and got him hooked up to an IV.
As he watched the needle in Qin Yancheng’s slender hand and the white patch covering it, Shi Zhou suddenly panicked. “How do we remove the needle later?”
Aunt Zhang offered, “I can do it... but Mr. Qin won’t get angry, right?”
Shi Zhou sighed. “Better angry than brain-fried. Let him take it out on me.”
After all, Qin Yancheng couldn’t bite him to death. Shi Zhou figured if he didn’t argue with someone fever-mad, he wouldn’t get mad himself.
Done with his nursing duties, he slumped on the couch, sneakily pulled out his phone, and checked to see if the smut fic had updated. It hadn’t.
But the fic had opened a door to a whole new world.
Who knew stories featuring yourself could be this spicy? He was even tempted to write his own. He registered a burner account called “Runaway Airship,” then changed it to “Runaway Airship at the Flower Market” after browsing a few author names.
He opened his laptop and began typing experimentally. But his inexperience showed—his brain moved like a rocket, but his fingers were tricycles in comparison.
Just then, the landline in Qin Yancheng’s room rang. Worried it would wake him up, Shi Zhou rushed in to pick it up.
The caller ID: Zeng Yan.
That possibly-ex-girlfriend again. Following Qin Yancheng’s usual method, Shi Zhou decided not to answer—but his finger slipped and accidentally connected the call.
Shi Zhou: “...”
He couldn’t hang up now. Bracing himself, he pressed the phone to his ear.
On the other side, Zeng Yan didn't expect the call to connect. “...Chengcheng?” she asked softly.
Shi Zhou, polite but stiff, “Sorry, he’s sleeping. May I ask who’s calling?”
Her voice was gentle, ageless, with a hint of worry. “Sleeping? Is he ill?”
Before Shi Zhou could answer, she added, “Who are you?”
Shi Zhou opened his mouth, eyes drifting to his screen full of spicy fanfic starring him and Qin Yancheng—still mid-bed scene in some alternate universe.
But if this woman was the ex-girlfriend, and they could possibly reconcile, he didn’t want to be an obstacle. He quickly debated what role to play: driver? bodyguard? housekeeper?
CRASH!
Qin Yancheng suddenly tore the door open, one hand pressed to his stomach, the other dripping blood from a forcibly removed IV needle. His face was deathly pale, full of barely restrained fury.
He leaned on the doorframe, radiating murderous energy, terrifying and sharp.
Reaching out with his bleeding hand, he said in a sinister but calm voice, “Give me the phone.”
Shi Zhou, startled, quickly handed it over.
Qin Yancheng held the phone and, enunciating each word coldly, said:
“Zeng Yan. That’s. Enough.”
Then he smashed the phone against the wall, shattering it.
Shi Zhou stared at the bloody shards on the floor, thinking maybe he should apologize for taking the call.
But before he could, Qin Yancheng’s eyes slowly moved… and landed on—
The laptop screen behind Shi Zhou.
Shi Zhou suddenly remembered that he was writing a smutty fic in Word and the interface had not yet been exited!