After finishing the porridge, Qi Yan pinched his nose, dumped the colorful pills into his palm, and swallowed them all in one gulp. He downed two cups of hot water to suppress the nausea churning in his stomach.
Qi Yan hated taking medicine—absolutely despised it. The old saying "good medicine tastes bitter" had forced him to swallow countless bitter pills over the years.
When he was little and fell ill, his father never gave him fruity children’s cold powder. Instead, he halved adult doses—fast-acting, effective within two or three doses. A peculiar kind of fatherly love, perhaps.
The clock read 2:30 PM. His unchanging routine had shattered beyond recognition, his entire schedule thrown into chaos.
Qi Yan called Uncle Zheng to apologize and request leave. But Uncle Zheng’s booming voice dominated the call, insisting he rest properly and return only when fully recovered. "No one comes to wash cars during National Day anyway," he added.
During the week-long holiday, DongSui Town emptied out. Locals traveled for vacations or weddings. Few tourists visited—DongSui had no famous landmarks, only Qiong Mountain, the area’s highest peak, though its scenery was utterly ordinary.
If one *had* to name another attraction, it’d be the hot springs in neighboring Tangquan Township—the very place Aunt Chunxiang had recently visited to unwind. But even those springs made no grand claims of healing or beauty. Unknown to outsiders, they served only locals from nearby towns.
Around thirty minutes later, the cold medicine kicked in. Drowsiness washed over Qi Yan; his eyelids started a tug-of-war.
It wasn’t time to sleep yet. The kitchen counter was a mess. Used bowls and chopsticks cluttered the sink. His sweat-soaked T-shirt and his sister’s discarded dirty dress lay crumpled on the floor.
Qi Yan never left chores for tomorrow. If ignored, they’d pile up within days. He often burned midnight oil, splitting every minute into two.
But today, he’d break that rule.
Just as he bent to pick up the clothes, his wheelchair-bound sister blocked his path. Cheeks puffed, she glared at him furiously.
**[Brother! Back to bed—NOW!]**
Qi Ran’s slender fingers, clutching a charcoal pencil, jabbed toward the bed.
"I’ll just wash these clothes, then lie down," he protested.
**[No water while you’re sick.]**
"It’s fine! I’ll use hot water. Besides, I touched cold water while rinsing rice earlier—and look, I’m still full of energy."
**[That was my mistake. It won’t happen again. No more tricks from you.]**
"Relax! Just five minutes—I’ll scrub them fast." Qi Yan tried squeezing past her with the bundle of clothes. But Qi Ran, furious, suddenly pushed herself up from the wheelchair.
He’d forgotten: his sister wasn’t the helpless, obedient girl she once was.
Qi Ran wobbled, toppling sideways.
"Careful!"
Qi Yan lunged to catch her. But his fever-weakened legs trembled; his arms lacked strength. He barely caught her before his foot slipped. Stumbling backward, they crashed onto the bed—Qi Yan underneath, Qi Ran on top. The hard mattress knocked the breath out of him with a sharp *thud*.
As if to trap him, Qi Ran pinned his wrists down. Her lower lip jutted out like a hook, radiating stubborn disapproval.
"Alright, Xiao Ran! I won’t wash anything. I’ll sleep—I promise! Just get off me? This isn’t exactly comfortable for napping, is it?" Qi Yan chuckled weakly.
Qi Ran shook her head fiercely, her long hair swaying. Her silent veto left no room for argument. He lacked the strength to push her away—or perhaps didn’t want to.
Fever made his body swing between icy chills and burning heat. Now, shivering, he instinctively pulled his warm sister closer. She nestled her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
He slept deeply, sweetly. The medicine worked its magic.
Qi Yan woke to a full bladder. Moonlight, pale as frost, spilled into the room, illuminating his sister’s peaceful face—a scene straight out of poetry.
*Mid-Autumn Festival is coming soon…* They hadn’t celebrated it in years. Their broken family had chosen to forget the holiday meant for reunions.
He fumbled for his phone. Checking the calendar, he noticed a coincidence: Qi Ran’s birthday and Mid-Autumn Festival fell on the same day this year.
Their family always used the Gregorian calendar for birthdays. Switching to the lunar date now would raise suspicion—his sharp-eyed sister would notice.
No choice but to push through.
Even as his bladder screamed like a storm-tossed sea, he couldn’t bring himself to leave the warm bed.
Maybe the fever made him unusually lazy. Since the accident that took their parents and crippled his sister, Qi Yan hadn’t lingered in bed a single morning. Every dawn meant rising instantly, fighting for survival.
But he’d survived. Things were finally looking up. Misfortune and blessing truly walked hand in hand.
His illness had triggered a miracle: Qi Ran could stand again. Like the Law of Equivalent Exchange—his fever traded for his sister’s legs.
*Worth it!* Qi Yan punched the air in silent triumph.
The movement jolted Qi Ran awake. She blinked up at him, eyes gleaming in the dark.
"Did I wake you?"
She shook her head, then rang a small bell three times.
"You need the toilet too, huh? ‘A full bladder humbles the mightiest hero.’ Who goes first—you or me?"
**[I refuse to use a toilet Brother has used.]**
*Such a thoughtful sister,* Qi Yan mused.
"Don’t worry—I don’t mind. Your pee doesn’t even smell."
**[But *I* mind! Go now, Brother!]**
Qi Yan guessed wrong again. A notebook smacked his head, and he fled to the bathroom.
Afterward, Qi Ran retaliated by typing: **[Brother’s pee stinks. And it reeks of medicine.]** He could only laugh.
Dinner was a simple bowl of pickled cabbage noodles. After eating, Qi Yan decided to lock away the giant jar of pickled cabbage for a few days—time for a change.
Under his sister’s watchful eye, he choked down the bitter pills.
No shower tonight. Qi Ran’s leg therapy sessions were also paused—even though today was crucial for massage.
With nothing to do, they climbed back into bed. The medicine kept Qi Yan wide awake despite sleeping all day. Qi Ran seemed equally restless.
To save electricity, Qi Yan had already turned off the lights before bed.
Qi Ran took his phone, opened the notes app, and began typing. At night, she always switched from her notebook to the phone’s glow.
**[Su Shiyu called the doctor for Brother today. We must thank her properly.]**
"We really should. She’s a good girl—just a bit too blunt about what she likes or dislikes."
**[Don’t you dare praise her!]**
"Is that praising?"
**[Just don’t!]**
"Alright, alright. I’ll list her flaws instead! She’s talented at many things, but loses interest fast—jumps from hobby to hobby. If she focused solely on drawing? Her future would be limitless. She caught up to my skill level in just one year. A true genius."
**[I said NO PRAISING! Don’t mention her again. I hate her.]**
*Is this resentment toward genius?* Qi Yan wondered.
Honestly, who wouldn’t envy a genius? Sure, they might sweat and strive behind the scenes—but their effort actually *reached* success. Others toiled a lifetime without taking a single step forward.
"Speaking of which… we haven’t shared a bed in six or seven years, right? That tiny villa in the provincial city felt huge. Its bathroom alone was half the size of this entire apartment!"
**[Mhm. The new house was big… but I hated it. Because I couldn’t be with Brother—]**
Qi Yan hadn’t finished reading before Qi Ran frantically deleted the rest, leaving only "Mhm."
He rambled about trivial gossip—stories from neighbors, tall tales from Uncle Lin and Uncle Zheng.
Then he noticed it: the scent of her skin, the narrow single bed, how the slightest shift brushed against her chest and hips. *Very* unnerving.
Qi Yan was a normal guy. He’d drawn 18+ doujinshi before (though he refused brother-sister themes). Su Shiyu kept "studying" by shoving weird doujin in his face—including plenty of incestuous ones. He’d resisted… but couldn’t look away. Eventually, he’d justified it as "research."
His thoughts were turning dangerous. Before they spiraled further, he edged toward the bed’s edge. "Adult siblings sharing a bed *is* weird, right? Maybe I should sleep on the floor—"
Before he finished, Qi Ran wrapped her arms tightly around his waist from behind. Her legs—suddenly heavy as stone—locked around his other leg. Soft curves pressed against his back, sending jolts through him.
As if punishing him, her fingers dug sharply into the soft flesh of his waist.
Past midnight, Qi Yan’s shriek—like a pig being slaughtered—shattered the neighborhood’s silence.
