Chapter 61: Questioning—Have You Ever Been Moved by Me?

“So, you dreamed that I died?” His shadowed pupils glinted coldly in the night.

He couldn’t sleep, keeping vigil over Luo Xing, while she dreamed of his death.

Luo Xing shook her head, biting her lip to suppress her sobs. She could not tell if it was a dream or reality. Had Gu Shiyan truly died, or was it only a figment of her mind?

Gu Shiyan’s mood had been turbulent, but seeing Luo Xing crying so wretchedly over a dream of his death softened his expression. He pressed his palm against her tear-stained cheek. “Enough. It wasn’t real.”

Yet Luo Xing only cried harder at his words. She felt that shedding tears in front of Gu Shiyan was somehow wrong, so she wiped her eyes. “I’m going to die.”

Only then did she feel how unwell she was—worse even than in the afternoon.

Gu Shiyan handed her water and medicine. “The doctor said it’s normal. Take the medicine and sleep, you’ll sweat it out and feel better.”

Her mind clouded, Luo Xing drank the medicine and slipped back under the covers, half-closing her eyes as she looked at him. “Thank you.”

Gu Shiyan didn’t respond. He tore open a fever patch, brushed aside the loose strands on her forehead, and placed it gently.

Luo Xing watched him, suddenly feeling as if the moment were a dream, unreal in its tenderness.

“Are you still lucid?” Gu Shiyan straightened, chin raised, eyes lowered to regard her.

Luo Xing couldn’t tell if she was clear-minded or not—there was a hazy clarity, and she disliked having to look up at him.

Gu Shiyan stepped back, leaning against the wall, his lashes drooping lazily.

“Can you answer a question?” His indifferent gaze settled on her.

Luo Xing gripped the quilt, a tension rising within her, as if she already sensed what he intended to ask.

She nodded hesitantly.

“You…”

He paused, searching for the right words.

“There’s no other reason for you breaking up with me?” His steady voice carried an undertone of pressure, but faded into a hint of vulnerability.

Gu Shiyan truly couldn’t figure it out.

She had suddenly grown distant, as if her soul had been stolen.

“You always hated being clung to, so what’s troubling you now?” Luo Xing replied softly.

Gu Shiyan hung his head, his expression unreadable, shoulders slightly hunched, his back pressed against the wall—he looked… very lonely.

Luo Xing pursed her lips, as if weighing her words. “Maybe it’s fate reminding me.”

Gu Shiyan suddenly lifted his gaze, fixing her with a piercing look. “Reminding you of what?”

His voice grew urgent, barely containing his frustration. “Was it the day I messaged you to wait for me that you decided to break up? Or even earlier?”

He moved closer, his eyes dark. “Was it that day?”

Luo Xing nodded. “Yes, that day.”

Gu Shiyan received an exact answer and recalled the moment carefully.

His expression grew dazed, eyes vacant. “What did I do?”

Luo Xing remained silent.

The two stared at each other in wordless confrontation.

The silence of the night pressed in, making the atmosphere all the more oppressive.

“Oh.” A single syllable broke the stagnation.

Gu Shiyan shifted his jaw, his cheek puffing slightly. Suddenly, as if realizing something, he gave a low, bitter laugh. “Was it because I left with Li Zhao and the others on Friday night?”

Luo Xing’s mind grew more muddled. She closed her eyes. “It doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

Gu Shiyan seemed provoked by her words. He approached the bed, bracing his palm beside Luo Xing’s neck, arching his back so their breaths mingled.

Their noses were nearly touching.

Luo Xing turned her head aside, unwilling to let him come so close.

But Gu Shiyan grew persistent, turning her face back with a gentle grip, his gaze unwavering.

Luo Xing, her mind foggy, stared back at him, her look somewhat vacant.

His fingertips pressed against her soft, sweat-dampened skin.

“It’s three o’clock now.” Gu Shiyan hooked a finger, brushing aside the hair at Luo Xing’s neck.

Strands of hair wound around his fingers.

The atmosphere grew strangely intimate and lingering, making Luo Xing’s breathing strained.

His scent enveloped her, faint yet present.

Her throat felt even drier. She rasped, “Don’t come so close.”

Gu Shiyan looked down at her through lowered lashes.

She added, “I’ll infect you.”

His fingers slipped from her cheek to encircle her neck; his hand was cool.

Luo Xing’s temperature was high, the contrast making her uneasy.

“Answer me,” he murmured, his voice intentionally lowered, curling into her ear.

She lifted her gaze to him, her breath soft and measured.

Gu Shiyan’s eyes drooped at the corners, long lashes trailing at the edge. From Luo Xing’s angle, she saw in him an inexplicable look—almost like the wagging tail of a dog begging for affection.

“Gu Shiyan, have you ever thought of marrying me?” Her voice was light and sudden.

She lowered her eyes, pressing on, “Have you ever truly felt moved by me? When you hold my hand, do you feel nervous, does your heart race? When you go out with me, do you care more about your appearance? Do you worry I’m bored, or think you’re not good enough?”

Gu Shiyan was silent. He lifted his hand from Luo Xing’s cheek, his throat moving as he swallowed.

“No, I don’t think so.” Sweat began to bead on Luo Xing’s skin. She drew a deep breath and let it out.

Those feelings were hers alone, which meant there was never equality between her and Gu Shiyan.

Even without Su Mo, or his background, or any other factor, they would never have gone far.

“Luo Xing…” Gu Shiyan’s voice was hoarse, his brows arching, lips parted but words failing him.

What could he say? He had never considered marriage—the thought was too distant, or too negative for him.

He exhaled, withdrew his hand, stood up, his voice rough. “Are you hungry? Should I order some porridge?”

“It’s too late.”

The air between them turned awkward, as if they were both sulking, or each retreating a step.

Gu Shiyan’s chest heaved with agitation. He rasped, “There’s food here twenty-four hours.”

With that, he pressed the service bell.

The attendant brought food, setting up a table for Luo Xing.

At last, Luo Xing lifted her eyes, thanking the attendant with barely a whisper.

Seeing the familiar face before her, her feelings grew complicated.

Su Mo must be working here over the summer—she’d seen her at TH last time as well.

She had clearly seen Gu Shiyan too.

The room was stiflingly quiet.

Luo Xing lay in bed, watching as Gu Shiyan walked straight to the balcony and finally lit the cigarette wedged between his fingers.

The sky was faintly brightening, streaked with deep blue, like a surging tide pressing down, making it hard to breathe.

Luo Xing stirred her porridge listlessly, watching as Su Mo quietly arranged the delicate side dishes before her, murmuring thanks.

Su Mo nodded and slipped away.

But as soon as the door closed, within seconds, a message arrived on Luo Xing’s phone.

It was from Su Mo.