Chapter 40: Bargaining, Flirting & Arguing
The rain outside the window had grown heavier at some unknown point, blowing the window completely open.
Zhao Jichuan chuckled, as if he had missed the best opportunity, his emotions fluctuating. He prided himself on being an extremely arrogant person, and even when they first met, he thought he could easily crush her. He never expected that one day he would “fall under her spell” and even want to kiss her.
The man looked up and saw her face flushed, her breathing a little heavy. It was probably still because of the fever and her throat feeling uncomfortable.
He leaned over and put the pillow she had thrown back in its place, then pinched her chin and said, “How could I bear to?”
How could he bear to kill her?
All day long, he’d talk about “life” and “death,” and the man felt like it was all just a joke.
After speaking, he got out of bed and closed the window. Somehow, during this process, a few drops of rain got on him. He raised his hand to wipe them off, then returned to bed as if nothing had happened, pulling her into his arms, “Are you still going to sleep?”
Han Rao nodded, arched her back, and placed her slightly cool hand on his arm, finding a relatively comfortable position.
So the two embraced and slept, and unexpectedly fell asleep quickly.
Later, when she was all alone, Han Rao would always think of this night: the drizzling rain, the sound of rain hitting the banana leaves, her body burning, yet she threw herself into an even warmer embrace.
She thought, perhaps at that time, Zhao Jichuan had already begun to treat her with genuine sincerity.
Even if he didn’t love her enough, and didn’t treat her as a girlfriend, he genuinely adopted the demeanor of someone doting on his girlfriend.
This sincerity and purity were unique to him.
How could it not be worth cherishing and remembering?
When Han Rao woke up again, it was already light, but due to the continuous rainy weather, the sky looked as if it was covered with a misty film, stuffy and heavy, like the ashes flicked from his fingertips.
Zhao Jichuan took her temperature with a thermometer; it had gone down a bit but was still over thirty-eight degrees. Her cheeks looked flushed in the center, and her eyes were cloudy and unfocused, lacking her usual spirit. The man asked her if she wanted to go to the hospital, but she flatly refused again, this time adding the bad weather as an excuse.
The man, helpless, could only feed her a pill, then called Lin Kuang to ask how to handle her situation.
Han Rao nestled in the quilt, the lingering scent of him still mixed with her breath. She watched his solitary and busy figure, a smile unintentionally appearing on her face. She reached for her phone and immediately received a barrage of messages from Vivi. Vivi reminded her of tomorrow’s schedule and asked if she needed to be picked up from home today.
Logically, Han Rao should be joining the cast tomorrow. This time, she’s still acting in a historical idol drama, playing the second female lead.
According to Hu Shengnan, the originally cast second female lead was replaced due to a dispute with the company, and Han Rao happened to have an opening, so she filled the role.
Han Rao told Vivi there was no need, and she irritably touched her burning forehead. She should be able to break her fever tonight; she had to join the crew tomorrow, and that couldn’t be delayed.
Han Rao was a diligent and never-slack worker. She didn’t want people to think she was “playing a bad hand,” so she gritted her teeth and kept it a secret, not telling Vivi about her fever. She figured Vivi would try to persuade her if she told her, and she found that troublesome.
Just as she finished replying to the message, Zhao Jichuan also hung up the phone. He walked over, placed his hand on her forehead, and asked her what she wanted to eat.
“Auntie, are you doing it or are you doing it?” she asked.
“Is there a difference?”
“Of course there’s a difference. If you’re cooking, I’ll eat something simple.” She looked considerate, but a seductive charm emerged with her smile, making one feel she was full of schemes.
Zhao Jichuan casually poured a bucket of cold water on her, “I have a meeting later. Tell Auntie what you want to eat.”
Han Rao pouted and said, “Then just make something simple, I don’t have much of an appetite anyway.” She actually thought that getting some nutrient solution would be fine, just to maintain vital signs, because she didn’t want to eat at all.
Of course, that thought was instantly dismissed. People still need to live, and I need to take care of my body so I can join the crew tomorrow.
While Auntie was cooking, Han Rao suddenly thought of something, picked up her phone and operated it for a while, then hugged her phone contentedly and smiled, even fantasizing about how Zhao Jichuan would react when he found out.
Will he be surprised?
Still find her boring?
Before long, the aunt had prepared the meal, a table full of Chinese breakfast dishes, all incredibly light, with hardly any oil visible. Han Rao’s mouth was already bland, and the light food had even less taste, like chewing wax. She looked up at Zhao Jichuan, who was, however, enjoying his steamed buns with great relish.
Han Rao thought about it, and it must still be her problem, so she said nothing.
She thought, workers empathize with workers, so it’s better not to nitpick and upset the auntie.
So, Han Rao finished a bowl of apple, red date, and millet porridge, put down the bowl, and said she was full.
Zhao Jichuan didn’t push her, fearing she might throw up if she ate something unsuitable, as she was quite delicate. He still couldn’t figure out why she developed a fever after he was just a bit rougher last night.
Or perhaps, she already had some inflammation these past two days, and it all accumulated and flared up?
He was now just praying for her fever to subside quickly so she could recover, and he could get back to work.
Because she was home alone, he was afraid the nanny wouldn’t be able to control her, especially since she was still muttering about wanting to take a bath when she first woke up.
Not long after finishing her meal, Han Rao received a call. She excitedly said that she had ordered takeout and asked the auntie to kindly help her pick it up.
Zhao Jichuan said to her, “You don’t eat your meals properly; it seems you’re hiding something.”
Han Rao wrapped her shawl tighter and raised an eyebrow at him.
Zhao Jichuan couldn’t do anything about her. He thought he would decide whether to let her eat it after seeing what she brought back. However, the moment he saw the auntie enter, a warm feeling surged through the man’s heart.
She reordered a cake for him.
Seeing Auntie return, Han Rao immediately shuffled over in her slippers, excitedly took the cake, and patiently untied the red ribbon on it.
She said, “It’s the same as yesterday’s. Let me make it up to you. Once I’ve made it up, you’re not allowed to be angry anymore, okay?”
Like coaxing a child, he chuckled inwardly.
Actually, Zhao Jichuan doesn’t like celebrating birthdays either. Like her, he finds it to be something optional. In previous years, his friends, who loved to have fun, would egg them on to gather and celebrate. Now, they’ve all reached their thirties, settled down, and started families, gradually becoming more reserved.
The only one who remains a wanderer is probably Fan Tao. But Zhao Jichuan also feels that the matter between Fan Tao and Li Wan isn’t so hasty; it might genuinely make him rein in his nature and behave himself.
He watched Han Rao put away the red ribbon and open the box containing the candles.
A strange feeling stirred in the man’s heart. He admitted that yesterday, he had indeed deliberately used his birthday as an excuse to make things difficult for her, attempting to conceal the true nature of his jealousy.
But today, the moment he saw this cake, the turmoil in his heart was calmed.
That year he was thirty, an age when everyone in his circle said he should be dashing and carefree, yet he fell in love because of one person.
Zhao Jichuan remembered that the cake that day was as sweet as honey. The cake she bought wasn’t extravagant, just simple, with the words “Happy Birthday” written on it.
It was clearly an unremarkable item, yet he remembered it for a very long time, so long that some memories that should have been clear gradually blurred.
He remembered the pattern on the cake, Han Rao’s expression as she patted her head and said, “I forgot to ask for the number 30 candle,” the sensation of the cake melting in his mouth, and most vividly, her playful scolding when he forcefully pulled her by the back of her neck and kissed her.
She was actually quite mischievous; during kisses, she’d clutch the fabric of his shirt, demanding more, but then at the end, she’d ask if he wasn’t afraid of catching something from her.
She said, “When I took care of you during Chinese New Year, I got infected by you. I didn’t get a fever, but I coughed for several days. My brother even suspected I had pneumonia.”
Zhao Jichuan ruffled her hair, then kissed her lips, answering her question with his actions.
He thought, he was actually quite crazy, quite extreme, for her.
-
The atmosphere in the morning was very lively. Zhao Jichuan had a smile on his face, and Han Rao was also beaming, infecting even the auntie who was immersed in a pink bubble.
As a result, that evening, the two of them had a fight.
Han Rao slept all morning, and by the afternoon, her temperature had dropped to 37.8 degrees Celsius. She felt fine, refreshed, and certain her fever would be gone by tomorrow morning. So, at 4 PM, she started packing her suitcase, counting her clothes, and preparing to join the crew the next day.
Zhao Jichuan found her packing. She was half-kneeling on her suitcase, pressing down the full load of clothes, and zipping it up. Seeing him enter, she smiled softly, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and said, “I’m joining the crew tomorrow. I’m not lying this time; I’m really going to film.”
Zhao Jichuan’s face immediately darkened. He reached out and touched her forehead, “Fever gone?”
There was no discernible emotion in his tone.
“That’s enough,” she said.
Zhao Jichuan turned and picked up the thermometer from the nightstand to take her temperature. “You call this a fever breaking?”
Han Rao didn’t expect him to be so serious, and the smile on her face faltered. “Isn’t it going to break soon? It’ll definitely be gone by tomorrow morning.”
Perhaps it was guilt, or maybe she was intimidated by his gaze, but Han Rao lowered her head and fiddled with the brown bear charm on her suitcase zipper.
Zhao Jichuan casually tossed the thermometer onto the table, leaned over to pull her up, and, with an arm around her waist, effortlessly lifted her onto the dressing table.
The movement was a bit too large, and she accidentally knocked over two bottles, which landed on the carpet with a muffled thud.
The man lifted her chin and said to her, “I think you’ve burned your brain out.”
She was sick and didn’t want to go to the hospital; he could understand that as her being afraid of injections and IVs. But being sick and not following doctor’s orders, rushing to join the crew before fully recovering, was simply insane.
Han Rao frowned, “I’m sober, and I know what I’m doing.”
Isn’t it just joining the crew with a fever? What’s the big deal? She used to work non-stop on set, fell ill, and after wrapping up for the night, Li Mengyang took her for an IV drip, and she was still able to get up early to film the next day.
It’s a shame, though, that the show has been shelved.
At that time, Han Rao was indeed complaining bitterly because she had never suffered such hardship. Although she was not born into a wealthy family, she had never truly experienced hardship except for her parents’ divorce.
But compared to suffering for filming, she was now more afraid of having no scenes to shoot.
Whether you call her eager for quick success or dedicated to her work, it’s true that she only felt secure and valuable when she was on set.
From nineteen to twenty-three, her best years were buried.
Han Rao had always believed in “getting famous early,” but things didn’t go as planned. She wasted four whole years auditioning, trying out for roles, and running around film sets, only to end up with nothing.
She didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to join the cast now, just because of a minor issue.
Not worth it.
“What are you doing? Fevers can relapse. You’re already acting up just because your temperature dropped a little. There’s no guarantee you won’t spike a fever again tonight. When you’re delirious and can barely walk, let’s see if you still want to film. Besides, you’re not even the female lead, so what’s the rush?” His tone was sharp; he thought she was crazy.
The lengthy speech completely shattered the harmony that had been maintained throughout the day.
“The body is the capital of revolution”—does she not understand this principle?
Besides, it’s just a play. If she likes it, he can spend a fortune to make her happy by investing in it.
As for acting like this for a minor character?
He thought she seemed very mature, but in reality, she was extremely childish and couldn’t distinguish between what was important and what wasn’t.
His words of concern became a sharp blade piercing her heart.
What’s so “smug” about it? That’s her job, she loves her job and cares about her job, what’s wrong with that?
For someone like him, born at the pinnacle of the pyramid, with everything handed to him, he probably wouldn’t understand what an ant like her would sacrifice for work.
He was arrogant to the core, looking down on everything and viewing her career with disdain, which was something she could not accept.
“Can you speak properly? Why are you cursing me?” She wanted to jump down, but he stopped her again.
Han Rao met his gaze, “Just because I’m not the female lead, does that mean I can be perfunctory, evasive, come late and leave early, and just coast along in the crew?”
Their values are different.
He couldn’t respect and understand her work, and she couldn’t accept his way of slandering her career just because he cared about her.
Han Rao felt a headache. The moment she covered her face and thought, she realized they were arguing again.
She hadn’t wanted this. She had really liked him this morning, so gentle that he seemed to wrap her in a honey pot.
What’s the argument about this time?
Zhao Jichuan also seemed a bit helpless. She was probably a drama fanatic. She could meekly endure other things, but as soon as she was told not to act, she would immediately explode.
He grabbed her wrist, pulled her hand down, and ordered, “Look at me.”
Han Rao thought he said that meaning they would both take a step back, but the man threatened her, saying, “If you dare to run tomorrow, don’t even think about filming the entire show.”
He knew that reasoning with her gently was useless; to make her obey, he could only resort to threats and inducements.
Han Rao opened her eyes, looking at him in disbelief. Was that something a human being would say?
She stared at him intently, trying to discern if he was serious or just trying to scare her. But the profound expression on his face made him inscrutable.
She knew that a head-on confrontation wouldn’t work.
So she blinked, then buried her head in his shoulder, “Zhao Jichuan, can you not scare me with this?” She said coquettishly, “I’m feeling really unwell right now.”
“Where does it hurt?” He gently squeezed her earlobe, his tone much softer.
Han Rao looked up, grabbing his hand and pressing it against her heart. “Here.” She looked at him, her eyelashes trembling slightly.
Zhao Jichuan lowered his head, seeing through her trick in a second. “Speak, what do you want to do? Anything but joining the crew tomorrow is fine.”
Han Rao’s face immediately darkened. Wasn’t this no different from when they hadn’t discussed it?
She turned her head away, not wanting to deal with him. It was pointless, like playing a lute to a cow.
Zhao Jichuan saw her sulking and not speaking, and felt a little uncomfortable again. He picked her up by the waist and threw her onto the bed, then leaned over and kissed her.
Han Rao raised her hand to cover his mouth, preventing him from kissing her.
The man got up resentfully, tidied his clothes, and pulled her suitcase to the side.
Han Rao listened to the dull rolling sound of the wheels and kicked her legs in annoyance.
Zhao Jichuan put things away and stood by the bed again. She was still in the same position, but had covered her face with her hands.
Zhao Jichuan felt that some things were gradually getting out of control. For example, now, her half-dead attitude, he couldn’t even think of a way to solve it.
In the past, he could have easily taken off his tie or pulled out his belt to tie her wrists, or locked the bedroom door from the inside to keep her in, letting her know the consequences of being stubborn. But now, he neither wants to nor deigns to do so.
Compared to physical submission, he wanted her to acknowledge him in her heart even more.
Just like how she closed her eyes and said she liked him that day.
“Han Rao.” He called her.
Han Rao remained motionless.
The man knelt on the bed with one leg, pulling her up into his arms.
She pushed him away, provocatively extending her wrist. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking. If you want to tie me up, go ahead. It’s not like you haven’t done it before.”
This is probably the pain of bringing up old scores.
Zhao Jichuan pulled at the corner of his mouth helplessly, grabbed her arm, and made her wrap it around his waist. He said, “Let’s each take a step back. If your fever breaks tomorrow morning, I’ll let you go. If it doesn’t, there’s no room for discussion.”
He ran his fingertips through her hair, “Raorao, stop bargaining with me.”