Chapter 76: Brother, you’re running a high fever—it's forty degrees!

After hanging up, he immediately unlocked his phone and entered the call log interface, but when his finger hovered over the confirmation to delete, he hesitated.

—What was he doing?

A mere married man, one who didn’t even have the right to openly pursue Mier, and yet he was so anxious that he resorted to these petty gestures.

Did he not trust himself, or did he not trust her?

Even if, one day, things changed between them and she decided to end it, it would never be because of this Qiao Yudong!

And yet, he simply couldn’t help himself... the irritation.

The moment he left Jinzhou, Qiao Yudong had seized the opportunity and, almost too conveniently, taken a knife for Mier.

Perhaps there was also Huo Qingjue; last time at Lu Zhizhi’s art exhibition, he’d also witnessed Huo Qingjue watching Mier’s back from afar.

As a man himself, he knew all too well what it looked like when a man became interested in a woman.

At that negotiation two months ago, he had been the same—unable to stop himself from searching for her among the crowd.

His Mier was simply too alluring!

One after another, they were all coveting her!

...

Outside the room.

Song Mi hadn’t rushed from the kitchen because she heard the phone ring. The apartment was so spacious, and the kitchen so far from the bedroom, that it was impossible for her to hear it.

She was simply thinking about him, had turned the stove down low on purpose, and came to check on him.

Who would have guessed that upon entering, she’d see the man awake, sitting up in bed with his head bowed, looking at his phone, apparently dealing with some matter.

She had actually instructed Assistant Lin long ago to quietly look into the cases he’d been working on these past few months.

At the time, she’d thought he had already gone above and beyond—driving her to the hospital, staying with her nearly all night, not even forgetting to prepare hot water for her before leaving. She owed him favor after favor!

So she’d had Lin keep an eye on him, thinking that perhaps, one day, if he ever ran into trouble, she could help him in return—a way to settle the debt.

For she had never liked owing anyone!

Who knew she’d become more and more interested in him, that this intense curiosity would goad her into taking the initiative, leading to the tangled situation they were in today.

She’d overestimated herself.

Otherwise, her resolve wouldn’t have shifted from “just enjoy this morning a little longer” to “at least wait until he’s recovered.”

And even in the short time it took her to walk from the kitchen to the bedroom, her mind circled back to this matter.

Truly... she was dragging her feet!

When she saw him look up at her, she quickly pressed down the annoyance in her heart and asked, her tone dissatisfied, “Is there something urgent at the law firm?”

She knew he’d been busy lately with the matter of the split with Lu Zhiyuan.

Wen Yanli simply gazed at her as she drew nearer and nearer.

Her phone was still in his hand, but she didn’t seem to notice at all, walking straight to the bedside, bending down to place the back of her hand on his forehead to check his temperature.

“It’s been almost an hour since you took the medicine, but your fever doesn’t seem to have gone down at all.” As she spoke, she turned to look at the bedside table. “Why did you take off the towel—”

Without warning, he reached out and pulled her down to sit, “Ah—”

Song Mi cried out instinctively, caught off guard. Before she could react, the man’s lips pressed hard against hers.

The kiss was fierce and urgent!

Song Mi was stunned by the intensity, nearly unable to breathe. She tried to avoid him, pushing at his chest, only managing to gasp for air after wrestling free for a brief moment.

He suddenly stopped, his hot breath brushing her nose, his eyes full of wounded accusation. “You’re rejecting me?”

There was even a tone of grievance!

Song Mi instinctively panted, hurriedly replenishing the air her lungs lacked. Inwardly, she nearly laughed—did this man turn into a child the moment he fell ill?

Refusing to go to the hospital with a high fever was already willful enough, but now he was even acting up with his mouth. “Brother, you’re running a high fever—forty degrees!”

It seemed this was the first time Wen Yanli had ever heard someone call him “brother.”

And it was her.

He was vaguely aware that young couples nowadays liked to use “brother” as a term of endearment, that girls loved to call their boyfriends that.

But the way she’d just said “brother”—equal parts coy and warning, breathless with a deliberately soft lilt—was like an electric current running through every bone in his body.

Unlike that earlier, possessive declaration, now, he was truly being seduced by her. “What did you just call me?”

Song Mi saw the ripples in his dark eyes.

Not long ago, he’d been trying every trick to make her call him “boyfriend,” and now, a single “brother” and he was undone.

This man was, truly... easy to please.

But now was not the time to indulge him, so she straightened her expression. “Call you whatever you like—you’re a patient with a high fever right now. What matters most is rest!”

She tried to push him aside and stand, but he pulled her back into his arms, holding her tighter. “No, I want to hear you say it!”

His voice was rough and hoarse!

Song Mi could only feel... exasperated.

Ever since Sorrento, she knew she was hardly a model of self-control in this area!

But he was relentless. “Be good, Mier, call me again.”

Her resolve wavered as his burning lips brushed her ear, and her reason snapped back—he was still feverish!

With a jolt, she pushed him away and stood up quickly. “...I forgot to turn off the stove in the kitchen!”

But he seemed to have turned clingy all of a sudden, rising immediately to grab her hand.

The look in his eyes was unmistakable. “Tell the smart system to turn it off.”

Song Mi immediately frowned. “Wen Yanli!”

Why did he become so unreasonable when he was sick?

What kind of nonsense was this!

“What did you call me?” The fever made his head ache, his body uncomfortable, but he still pulled her back, sitting down first. “What did you call me?”

Song Mi glared down at him. “You have a high fever!”

He quickly lowered his head. “Maybe it’s because I miss you too much.”

She only needed one look to understand.

For a moment, Song Mi was simply worn out by his pestering. “I’m going to turn off the stove!”

She turned toward the door.

But she had no intention of actually going to the kitchen—she simply stood at the doorway and called out, “Smart system, cut all power to the kitchen.”

—“Yes, Master.”

The moment Song Mi turned away, Wen Yanli casually picked up her phone from beside the pillow.

Unlock. Open call log.

Qiao Weiwei.

Call.

He set the volume to the lowest setting.

That way, no matter what the person on the other end said, they wouldn’t hear it, but the other side could still hear everything happening in this room.

If the person who answered was Qiao Yudong, all the better. That was exactly his intention—to let Qiao Yudong listen.

If it happened to be Qiao Weiwei, and she heard something but got no response, she’d probably think they’d accidentally pressed the phone.

Wen Yanli admitted this idea was madness.

But he wanted to do it—he couldn’t help himself. Call it fever delirium!

Of course, he’d been thoroughly stirred by Mier calling him “brother.” That, too, was undeniable.

She had always been his weakness.

Once he’d finished setting it up, he placed the phone on the bedside table.

And waited for her.

As Song Mi walked back toward him, she felt no hesitation. She’d already decided on the fastest way to deal with him.

She seriously suspected his sudden high fever was due to overexertion two days ago, combined with back-to-back flights and utter exhaustion—his body had simply broken down.

And yet, just hearing her call him “brother” and he was overcome by desire?

She would have none of it. “Brother, you’re sick, how could I bear to let you work so hard?”

Wen Yanli’s only intention had been to coax her into saying “brother” a few more times. He had no plan to do anything more at a time like this.

Not because he was ill, but because he cared for her.

Last night, after she’d fallen asleep, he’d carefully checked the area around her healing wound—bruised, swollen, clearly not well.

How could he not cherish her?

Yet, seeing her now, his throat tightened all the same.

He restrained himself. “What did you just call me?”

Song Mi sat on the edge of the bed, circling his shoulders with her arms, coaxing him, “Brother!”

She felt as if she were pressed against a furnace—he was burning up!

She needed to get his fever down, fast.

No way would she let him have his way at a time like this.

“Brother.” Since he liked it, she called him once more, “Brother!”

Then, she leaned in and whispered something in his ear.

Wen Yanli instantly understood her intention and, of course, would not let her go through with it. “No!”

She felt both her hands caught in his grip as he replied.

His words were no less suggestive than hers had been, but unlike her, he didn’t lower his voice.

Song Mi was about to persist when his right hand suddenly released hers, and he reached out to grab her phone from the bedside table.

Just as quickly, he set it back down.

—Mission accomplished.

Now, he could end the call.

Wen Yanli admitted he was not just mad, but childish!

Wasn’t Qiao Yudong the same?

He’d taken a knife for Mier—wasn’t that madness?

He’d used Qiao Weiwei’s phone to call Mier over—wasn’t that childish?

If Qiao Yudong could shamelessly make his move, why couldn’t he declare his sovereignty in broad daylight?

Whatever the future held, for now, Mier was his!

Song Mi had no idea what was running through the man’s mind, only that he seemed to have suddenly returned to normal.

She was momentarily dazed.

“I’ll stop teasing you,” Wen Yanli said, his gaze shifting, a smile on his lips as he looked at her. “What were you cooking in the kitchen?”

“You know how to cook?” Song Mi eyed him suspiciously, then glanced at her phone. “Or did you do something with my phone?”

...

Elsewhere, Qiao Yudong’s face had turned green.

He nearly crushed the phone in his hand.

At the same time, Qiao Weiwei came out of the bathroom.

She had just tried to vomit but only managed to bring up a mouthful of water. Her stomach churned, and she was so dizzy she could barely stand.

Staggering over to the sofa, she collapsed into it. She hadn’t noticed anything strange about the patient in the bed. “Brother, I can’t take it anymore.”

“I need to go downstairs and register for a doctor soon—see if I’ve got food poisoning!”

“If I do, I’m definitely complaining about that restaurant from yesterday...”

Qiao Yudong seemed not to hear a word.

His mind was filled with nothing but the string of soft, sultry “brothers” coming from Song Mi on the phone.

He was no stranger to affairs of the heart; he knew exactly what they were doing.

In broad daylight, no less, and calling him just to let him listen?

Well played, Lawyer Wen.

Well played, Wen Yanli.

There was no way Song Mi had made that call.

A woman as reserved as her—no matter that they hadn’t gone so far as to strip—if she knew there were other ears on the line, would she call out “brother” again and again, so bewitchingly?

No, it had to have been Wen.

What was Wen trying to do?

Stake his claim?

Did he think this would disgust him into giving up?

Ridiculous!

He’d seen their “live broadcast” at Lu Zhizhi’s art exhibition. Even if Song Mi’s face hadn’t appeared in the video, everyone present understood who the leads were.

In fact, there was a fleeting, blurred figure in the video.

It was Song Mi’s back.

Just that brief silhouette, with its posture and curves, was enough to reveal what a natural beauty she was.

A glimpse was all it took to imagine the whole.

Her beauty had haunted his dreams, driving him to chase her madly.

If Wen thought any of this would bother him, he couldn’t be more mistaken.

A blank slate of a woman, easily shaped, had stopped interesting him after twenty-five.

A woman of poise and charm, whose every gesture drew one in—how could she not have a rich history of love, and yes, experience in bed?

He was hardly so shallow as to care about what she’d done before she met him.

Especially when it was Song Mi.

He’d taken a knife for her without hesitation—why would he care about this?

That Wen was utterly clueless. Childish to the extreme!

Wen probably couldn’t imagine that, far from extinguishing his desire for Mier, this only fanned the flames higher, intensifying his burning resolve.

Mier would be his.

One day, each of those tender “brothers” would be spoken to him, and him alone.

Mier would call him so, sweetly and willingly.

Only him!

“Brother... what’s wrong? Are you alright?” Qiao Weiwei came over to take her phone, only to find it clenched tightly in Qiao Yudong’s hand, his whole demeanor oddly off.

He ignored her, eyes fixed and unresponsive, which made her panic. She quickly pressed the call bell. “Brother, what’s wrong? I’ll call the doctor—”

“I’m fine,” Qiao Yudong ground out through clenched teeth.

Qiao Weiwei, even more alarmed, studied him. “Is your wound hurting? Huh?”

“Is it bad?”

“Did it open up?” She hurried around to the other side of the bed, pulling back the blanket to check his injury. “Let me see.”

“I said I’m fine!” Qiao Yudong’s injury was near his right waist; the doctor had said if the knife had gone any higher, it would have hit his liver.

He was lying on his left side, and the painkiller had eased things, but he couldn’t move to stop her. “What did you just say?”

“You think you have food poisoning?”

Qiao Weiwei carefully lifted his hospital gown, afraid of hurting him.

The white bandages looked fine, nothing unusual. She glanced at the IV bag.

Just a little left, dripping slowly—it was nearly done.

Nothing seemed wrong.

Then why had he looked so wild-eyed just now?

She couldn’t figure it out.

She gently lowered his gown and tucked him in again. “My stomach’s been off since yesterday—I must have eaten something bad or expired!”

She circled the bed to face him. “Once your IV is done, I’ll go register and get some medicine for my stomach.”

As she approached, she spotted her phone on the bed.

She’d only handed it over because Qiao Yudong insisted on calling Mier. As soon as he’d lifted it to his ear, she’d had to run to the bathroom.

So she hadn’t been present for the call.

Yesterday she’d blurted out, asking if Mier was moved. Mier had only replied, “I’m grateful.”

She’d been a bit confused then—the situation had happened so suddenly, she’d panicked. Later, she’d thought it through.

She shouldn’t have expected Mier to be moved!

Who said a woman had to be touched by a man’s heroic gesture?

Qiao Yudong might be obsessed with Mier now, risking life and limb—but who knew how long his passion would last?

Was she supposed to support an affair? Encourage him to divorce her sister-in-law and openly pursue Mier?

Absolutely not.

So, Mier must never be moved by him!

Not just for what happened yesterday—even if Qiao Yudong did something even more dramatic in the future, Mier must remain unmoved!

As she retrieved her phone, she still asked, “Did Mier answer? What did she say?”

At her question, Qiao Yudong’s anger, barely suppressed, flared up again. “She didn’t answer.”

Qiao Weiwei blurted, “Then who did? Ye Zhao?”

“Mier must have been busy!”

Before Qiao Yudong could reply, her phone rang.

It was her sister-in-law, Fu Sisi.

Qiao Weiwei had been worried sick since yesterday—not least because in ten days, it would be Grandpa’s birthday celebration, and there was no way Qiao Yudong would be fully recovered by then.

How were they supposed to explain his injury to the family?

Claim he’d been mugged? Gotten into a fight?

Telling the truth was out of the question!

Now, with Fu Sisi calling, if she asked, what story should she make up?

Seeing her hesitate to answer, Qiao Yudong’s tone turned sarcastic. “Who is it?”