Qi Ran’s brother still radiated heat, but it was no longer scorching to the touch. The fever-reducing injection had worked remarkably well.

All that remained was to care for him carefully and prevent the fever from returning.

“Water… water…”

Qi Yan murmured faintly in his parched, delirious state.

Qi Ran leaned over him, grabbed the thermos, and carefully poured warm water into its cap—without spilling a single drop.

She’d driven that person away. No—forced them to retreat with sheer will. Now, the duty of caring for her brother fell solely on her.

If Su Shiyu could do it, so could Qi Ran. She might not be as skilled, but she’d pour her heart into it. After all, she was his irreplaceable sister.

She tested the water in the cap with a light sip. Perfect temperature.

Gently prying open Qi Yan’s mouth with her sleek fingers, she tilted the cap to pour the water in.

*Cough! Cough! Cough!*

The sudden water overwhelmed Qi Yan’s foggy mind. He choked violently, splattering droplets across his pillow, sheets, and Qi Ran’s face.

She reached for tissues, wiping his mouth with gentle strokes.

She couldn’t speak to wake him. Didn’t want to.

The doctor had said he needed deep sleep and sweat to break the fever.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Su Shiyu’s earlier actions flashed before Qi Ran’s eyes—that “kiss therapy.” She could do it too.

Holding water in her own mouth, she braced her hands on Qi Yan’s shoulders and slowly lowered herself. Silver strands of hair cascaded down, brushing against his face.

Their noses nearly touched. But rationality froze her in place.

*Is this really okay?*

By all norms, this was forbidden between them.

But how many “forbidden” things had they already done?

Ever since the car crash two years ago—the crash that took their parents, stole her voice and legs—their bond had long ceased to be ordinary. Blood ties couldn’t define it. They were bound like twin flames; if one died, the other would suffocate.

*This is just CPR. Not a kiss.*

*It’s medicine. Without water, he won’t sweat. Without sweat, the fever won’t break. Without him…*

The words *losing him* drowned out all reason.

Slowly, Qi Ran transferred the water into his mouth.

Dehydrated and instinct-driven, Qi Yan eagerly drew the moisture from her lips.

Again and again. Half the thermos emptied before Qi Ran’s lips grew numb. She stopped, then began wiping his sweat-drenched body.

Exhausted and starving, Qi Ran felt a deep, unfamiliar fulfillment. She’d finally shed her role as a parasite clinging to her brother. Now, she was a symbiotic partner.

No longer just a burden. No longer just a cute tagalong. She could care for him. Help him.

Her gaze dropped to her blood-stained hands. Her favorite white nightgown—once pristine—was now grimy gray, torn in places.

Qi Ran hated dirt. A single ink stain on her fingers would send her rushing to wash it off. Clothes were no different.

But now, her legs felt leaden. Moving was impossible. Not like before, when they’d been numb and unresponsive—but freedom was still a distant dream.

The filthy fabric crawled against her skin like insects. She peeled off the gown, revealing bare skin save for cotton underwear.

A chill made her shiver. She hugged herself, instinctively edging closer to Qi Yan’s furnace-like warmth.

Squeezing into the narrow single bed, she pulled the sheets tight. There was no room for two adults to lie flat. She curled on her side.

Her brother’s heat seeped into her. She pressed against him, her cheek nuzzling his chest.

*Originally, I wanted to be his hot water bottle…*

*Now, I’ll be his ice pack instead.*