Cocoon (Lily ABO) - Chapter 21

By the time Han Jingman woke up, it was nearly noon the next day. Ling Yu was curled up in her arms, sleeping soundly. Her sleeping face was clean and innocent, save for that “lustful claw” of hers which was still restlessly resting atop the delicate breast she had been suckling and nipping all night long.

Flushed to the tips of her ears by her own actions last night, Han Jingman didn’t even dare to look closely at her somewhat red and swollen nipples. She tidied her collar, felt Ling Yu’s forehead, and noticed it didn’t seem quite as scorching. She got out of bed light-footedly, took the thermometer, and checked Ling Yu’s temperature again: 37.6°C. Good—the fever was almost gone. Han Jingman breathed a sigh of relief.

After a quick wash, she went to the kitchen, intending to brew some soft, thick millet porridge. Ling Yu had barely eaten anything yesterday; she had to find a way to coax her into eating something easy to swallow before she could give her more medicine. This girl had been stubborn since she was a child; whenever she was sick, she’d try every trick in the book to avoid taking medicine. In the end, her grandmother always had to fetch Han Jingman to get her to swallow it obediently.

Worried that Ling Yu might have another nightmare while sleeping alone, Han Jingman left the bedroom door halfway open, getting up to check on her every now and then.

During the first half of the night, Ling Yu’s whole body had been aching, her skin burning as if on fire. She had been sweating constantly as if soaked in warm water—a sticky, uncomfortable sensation. But in the latter half of the night, after some tossing and turning, she had fallen into a nest of warmth and softness, surrounded by the most familiar scent of pheromones. Having slept peacefully, she was now nudged awake by the sweet aroma of food. In her dazed state, she instinctively swallowed; she was hungry.

Han Jingman timed it perfectly, turned off the stove, and brought a small tray into the room. Ling Yu, having been in a deep sleep for so long, couldn’t wake up immediately. Her pupils moved beneath her thin eyelids, and her lips seemed to twitch restlessly.

Seeing this, Han Jingman propped Ling Yu up against her, gently calling her name. The person whose eyelids were practically glued shut finally opened her bleary eyes in a daze. Her lashes fluttered, and the first thing she saw was the side of Han Jingman’s face. The weakened Ling Yu burrowed into her embrace, contentedly closing her eyes again.

Han Jingman grew anxious—how could this girl be so hard to wake? She patted Ling Yu’s hand, calling her again. “Xiao Yu, be good. Wake up and eat something before you sleep, okay?”

Ling Yu gave a half-awake “mhm,” but showed no intention of moving. Han Jingman brought the small bowl close to Ling Yu’s nose, her fingers holding a spoon to rhythmically stir the millet porridge, patiently waiting for her consciousness to clear. The fragrant porridge finally stirred the “gluttonous worm” in Ling Yu’s stomach; she licked her lips and eventually opened her eyes as desired.

Han Jingman laughed inwardly. She scooped half a spoonful of the rice water, blew on it, and brought it to Ling Yu’s lips. The girl cautiously extended her tongue and gave it a tiny lick. It was sweet. Satisfied, she took a whole mouthful. Han Jingman had diced some pumpkin into the porridge; the light rice water carried the sweetness of the pumpkin, stewed until it was fragrant, smooth, and soft. Ling Yu swallowed several spoonfuls in a row.

With her stomach feeling warm, Ling Yu’s limp body began to feel a bit more spirited. She looked around, only to realize with a shock that she was currently in Han Jingman’s bedroom—and lying in her arms. She lurched forward, nearly knocking over the small bowl of porridge.

Han Jingman caught the reckless girl, chiding her, “What are you doing now? Your fever hasn’t even broken and you’re already acting up.”

Ling Yu was in a total panic. She didn’t know how she ended up here, and she was terrified that she had wandered over in a delirious state in the middle of the night to harass Han Jingman. Recalling Wei Zhen’s words from yesterday, she was so regretful she nearly burst into tears. She scrambled to get out of bed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how I got here. Don’t be angry, I’ll leave right now.”

Han Jingman’s brow furrowed. She stared coldly at the girl’s frantic attempts to get up and leave, a spark of nameless anger igniting in her heart. All that coaxing and holding last night, and being put through the wringer by her for the entire night—and the moment the girl wakes up, she turns cold and tries to leave. Leave? Where do you think you’re going?

Thud!

Han Jingman set the bowl down heavily. Hearing this clearly angry impact, Ling Yu’s heart skipped a beat.

Han Jingman stood by the bedside, looking down at the disheveled Ling Yu, and asked in a chilly voice, “Are you awake now?”

Ling Yu’s voice was still raspy as she answered weakly, “I-I’m awake.”

“If you’re awake, sit up straight.”

Han Jingman eyed her coldly. Ling Yu immediately sat up obediently, trying to straighten her back, but after a whole night of high fever, her body was weak; she could only force herself to sit upright with sheer effort.

“Take the bowl and eat it yourself.”

Han Jingman gave her a look. Ling Yu hurriedly reached out to take the small bowl and began gulping it down as if her life depended on it.

Ling Yu was already lacking in confidence, and her weakened state from the illness made it even harder not to want to bully her. Han Jingman watched Ling Yu’s pale little face with a cold gaze, but seeing her drink the porridge in large gulps made her feel slightly better.

After finishing the bowl in a few bites, Ling Yu cautiously stuck out her tongue to lick a stray drop of rice water from the corner of her lip, showing the empty bowl to Han Jingman like a well-behaved child. “I finished it.”

“Do you want more?”

“I’m… I’m full.”

Han Jingman gave a cold snort, took the bowl, and left the room, leaving Ling Yu sitting uneasily on the bed alone.

Ling Yu looked down at the nightgown she was wearing and was suddenly struck with horror. She clearly remembered changing her clothes after returning to the Airbnb from the police station yesterday—it certainly wasn’t a nightgown. She tapped her head, trying desperately to remember how she got to Han Jingman’s house last night and why she had changed. She remembered lying down, someone entering the room and turning on the light, and then it felt like she was being carried on someone’s back. After that, she remembered nothing until waking up here.

Han Jingman stood at the door with her arms crossed, watching Ling Yu’s face cycle through regret, gloom, shock, and conflict. Finally, she felt that if she didn’t speak up, Ling Yu would probably hallucinate an entire galaxy.

“Don’t overthink it. You’re sick. I asked Diana for the address, and then I asked your roommate to help bring you here.” Han Jingman paused, giving an unnatural light cough. “Also… I’m the one who changed your clothes.”

Ling Yu’s tense nerves relaxed slightly. So that was it. At least she hadn’t mindlessly run over here to cause trouble in the middle of the night—though she didn’t have the chance to think about the many details Han Jingman had conveniently left out.

“Thank you, Professor Han. I’ve caused you trouble.” Ling Yu didn’t notice Han Jingman’s eyes narrow dangerously at those words. Trouble, is it?

“Indeed, you’ve caused quite a bit of trouble.” Han Jingman walked to the bedside, leaning down to look levelly into Ling Yu’s panicked eyes. A chill ran down Ling Yu’s spine. Having just finished the hot porridge, she had broken into a sweat, and now it was turning cold against her skin, triggering a sneeze.

Seeing Han Jingman’s expression soften slightly, Ling Yu pleaded piteously, “I’m sick.” Han Jingman stared at her. Ling Yu’s long hair fell softly over her shoulders, her slightly red eyes were downcast, and her teeth nipped at her lower lip. When she wasn’t putting on a cold face, she looked like a beautiful Omega that invited people to commit a crime.

But who could have guessed that such a fragile-looking person could have pinned her down and ravaged her for an entire night? Human appearance was truly deceptive.

Seeing that Han Jingman didn’t seem to blame her, and that she was the one who brought her back, Ling Yu couldn’t help but feel a tiny surge of joy in her heart. She looked at the stern Han Jingman and asked tentatively, “I’m feeling much better now, I should probably go home.”

Hmph. Go home. To where? The Airbnb?

“Your fever hasn’t fully broken yet. Take your medicine and sleep again. You can’t leave until you’re fully recovered.”

Ling Yu looked at her nightgown with some hesitation. “But… I want to bathe. I sweated so much.”

“You cannot!”

Han Jingman was exasperated—she had barely improved and was already trying to act up. Knowing Ling Yu always valued cleanliness, Han Jingman offered a compromise. “I’ll get some hot water. You can wipe yourself down, but you are absolutely not allowed to take a bath.”

Ling Yu obediently agreed; being able to wipe down was good enough.

She dragged her weak steps to the bathroom, wiped herself down, and changed into another nightgown Han Jingman had prepared. When she came out, she obediently took the cold medicine Han Jingman had ready, swallowing it in one go despite the grimace. Satisfied, Han Jingman took the glass and helped Ling Yu lie down comfortably before heading to the kitchen to tidy up.

Lying in bed feeling drowsy from the medicine, Ling Yu felt as if she had forgotten something very important, but the sedative effect of the medicine pulled her into a deep sleep before she could think further.

Han Jingman finished in the kitchen and had half a bowl of porridge herself. Seeing Ling Yu was sound asleep, she pulled the door halfway shut and went to the study to handle some emails. By the time the sun began to set, she finally emerged. She had intended for Ling Yu to just take a nap after the medicine, but she had checked on her several times and found her sleeping so soundly that she let her be. Now it was nearly dinner time, and it was time to wake Ling Yu up, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.

Han Jingman fully expected the fever to have broken, but when she approached with the thermometer, she found Ling Yu lying on the bed with a deep flush on her face, breathing heavily.

After checking her temperature: 38.2°C. It was going back up.