HIM Chapter 29: “I’m afraid you’ll find out.”
Bo Qin had always maintained a high level of fitness from years of working out and dancing. Normally, a common cold would be gone with some medicine and a good night’s sleep. But for some reason this time, his illness dragged on for a whole week. After two consecutive days of non-stop work while running a low-grade fever, Bo Qin finally collapsed at the airport.
He was so used to fainting that he could feel it coming—like his heart plummeting the moment he stood up. Dizzy and faint, Bo Qin used all his strength to call out Xiao Zhu’s name and gripped the armrest of the chair. As Xiao Zhu rushed over, Bo Qin fell forward right into his arms.
At least I didn’t hit the ground, Bo Qin thought before blacking out.
When he came to, his head was still spinning. The familiar scent of disinfectant lingered at his nose, and the ceiling above was its usual plain white. Bo Qin stared at it for a few seconds, then closed his eyes again, used to the routine. Just as he was about to roll over, a familiar voice cautiously asked, “Are you awake?”
The voice carried a hint of amusement.
Bo Qin opened his eyes abruptly and found himself face to face with He Xizhou in a black trench coat.
He Xizhou stood by the window, backlit by the sunlight. Tall and graceful, with his hair unstyled and casually falling forward, he lowered his head to meet Bo Qin’s gaze. The strands of hair shadowed his eyes as he said, “You feeling clear-headed now?”
Bo Qin nodded blankly.
He shifted slightly, burying his head into the covers and muffled, “Why are you here?”
He Xizhou drew the curtains shut, dimming the room. “Coincidentally, I just got off a flight at the airport.”
Bo Qin poked his head out from under the covers. His hair was a mess, his face slightly swollen from sleeping too long, soft and smooth like jade, with visible sleep marks. His right eyelid drooped, and his eyes looked dazed—completely lacking his usual sharpness and confidence, replaced by a sort of soft, chubby cuteness.
He Xizhou resisted the urge to pat Bo Qin’s sticking-up bed hair. How can someone be this cute?
Bo Qin blinked slowly. “The airport is big…”
He Xizhou gently brushed Bo Qin’s bangs aside, his warm palm pressing lightly to his forehead. “Still a bit of a fever,” he said, lowering his head to meet Bo Qin’s eyes. “Want to sleep some more?”
Bo Qin closed his eyes, comforted by He Xizhou’s warm touch. “Not sure. I feel terrible.”
He Xizhou pulled his hand back. “Then do you want something to eat?”
Bo Qin tried to sit up, and He Xizhou quickly supported him, sliding a pillow behind his back. Bo Qin smiled. “It’s just a little cold, no need to fuss.”
“You just got back?” Bo Qin asked.
He Xizhou nodded. “Anything you want to eat?”
Bo Qin didn’t answer. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “How long did I sleep?”
“A day. From yesterday afternoon till this morning.”
“You weren’t watching over me this whole time, were you?” Bo Qin looked him over—he seemed fine, full of energy.
“I went home and slept after dropping you at the hospital. Just got back,” He Xizhou said with a laugh. “I flew all day. I don’t have the stamina to guard your bedside.”
Bo Qin chuckled. Just as he was about to say something, there was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Bo Qin called.
Xiao Zhu opened the door and lit up when he saw Bo Qin awake. “Finally! Chen-jie just left. I’ll give her a call.”
“No need,” Bo Qin said. “Just tell her. She’s been running around enough already.”
He Xizhou added, “My mom just left, too.”
Bo Qin sighed. “So lively…”
His collapse wasn’t anything serious—just overwork and a weak immune system. Once he was feeling better and had a visit from He Xizhou’s mom, he insisted on being discharged, despite protests from everyone.
“I know my body,” Bo Qin said. “Whenever I catch a cold, it always comes with a low-grade fever. It'll pass.”
The car ride was smooth. The usual faint fragrance in the air was missing. Bo Qin sniffed. “Where’s that scent?”
“You like it?” He Xizhou asked.
“Of course. You always smell nice.” Bo Qin frowned at his own words—they sounded a bit too flirty. He added, “I just like that scent. It suits me.”
Damn it, Bo Qin leaned his head back and clicked his tongue.
He Xizhou laughed.
Then he asked, “This recurring low-grade fever—has it always been like that?”
Bo Qin turned to him. “Trying to get something out of me? What do you want to ask?”
From the front seat, Xu Zhi handed a file folder to He Xizhou, who opened it and asked, “That night at the Riverside Residence… did you really jump into the river?”
Bo Qin laughed. “Hey, ‘jump into the river’ sounds a bit dramatic.”
He Xizhou replied, “Say whatever you want to say. If you don’t want to talk about it, we won’t.”
“It’s not like I don’t want to,” Bo Qin said. “It’s no big deal.” He was starting to feel drowsy. Eyes closed, he added, “I did jump. Into Jiang’an River, the one near the first ring road. The Xiao family’s residence is in that commercial district.”
He Xizhou’s fingers clenched tightly on the folder.
“I didn’t jump because of the drugs Xiao Chen gave me. He wouldn’t dare—maybe just to liven things up.” Bo Qin’s voice was calm, devoid of emotion. “I jumped to get away. Jiang Rong sent people to beat me up. If it were one or two, I could fight. But there were over twenty, all with clubs.”
He Xizhou loosened his grip on the folder. He’d held it so tightly his fingertips had turned white.
“After that, nothing major. I was hospitalized, had a high fever, and when it finally subsided, it turned into this persistent low-grade fever. Nothing serious, though.”
Bo Qin grinned, suddenly sounding more cheerful. “You should’ve seen how miserable I was. I couldn’t even pay for the hospital. Chen-jie and Xiao Zhu covered it for me.”
He sighed. “Feels like it was ages ago. Time flies.”
He Xizhou smiled at him. “But you made it through.”
“Yeah,” Bo Qin agreed, opening the car window for some fresh air. But before he could enjoy it, He Xizhou shut it again. Bo Qin looked over. “Seriously, ge?”
“Seriously,” He Xizhou replied, pulling out his laptop. He glanced at Bo Qin. “I’ve worked harder and never fainted.”
Bo Qin was quiet for a moment, then muttered, “…I had things on my mind.”
“What kind of things?” He Xizhou asked, opening his laptop.
Bo Qin was silent.
He sighed and leaned back with a blanket, eyes fixed on the ceiling. In a voice barely audible, he whispered, “A lot of things.”
When they got back to Fengjiang, Bo Qin took his medicine under He Xizhou’s watchful eye. As he headed upstairs, He Xizhou suddenly called out.
Bo Qin turned. He Xizhou hesitated, then asked, “Xiao Qin, are some of those worries because of me?”
Bo Qin froze. “Why would you say that?” He smiled, a little embarrassed. “No, you haven’t caused me any trouble.”
He scratched his head and said seriously, “On the contrary, your appearance brought a lot of surprises into my routine life.”
He Xizhou was stunned. Then he smiled and said, “Xiao Qin, I hope you never regret saying that.”
“Why would I regret it?” Bo Qin asked.
He Xizhou didn’t answer. I was about to give up, he thought.
He looked at Bo Qin and smiled, then gently turned off the small light in the stairwell.
In the dark, Bo Qin stood on the upper steps looking down at him. Puzzled, he asked, “Ge, why did you turn off the light?”
“I’m afraid you’ll find out,” He Xizhou said.
“Find out what?” Bo Qin asked, even more confused.
That I like you, He Xizhou thought. My eyes might give me away.
He said, “Nothing. Sleep early.”
Bo Qin wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but He Xizhou’s voice sounded especially gentle in the dark. “Good night, Xiao Qin,” he said.
—
Due to Bo Qin’s illness, the studio decided to cancel the annual fan meet.
It was usually held every year on November 6th, the anniversary of Bo Qin’s debut. Fans were randomly selected, with all expenses covered by the studio. No media, just a DVD recording.
When Chen-jie confirmed the cancellation, Bo Qin sat at the head of the table, expressionless. He had completely handed over decision-making power. Only at the end of the meeting did he quietly say, “Let’s keep the letter reading segment. Don’t return the letters—we already have them. I’ll read them.”
His mood hit rock bottom again.
Not unusual. Over the past few years, Bo Qin’s emotions had stayed flat. No dramatic highs or lows. He never let his mood affect work, so staff around him had gotten used to it, though they treated him with extra caution.
He locked himself in the composing room, trying out some melodies on the keyboard, but couldn’t focus. Pushing the chair back, he leaned his head and stared at the ceiling.
Luo Ming walked in while a song was playing. The familiar melody made him pause. He sat on a stool and saw that Bo Qin’s tablet was playing a song titled “Don’t Walk Into the Sea.”
Luo Ming said, “Judging by the mood, not just bad—but really bad.”
The chorus hit, and Bo Qin’s high note cracked with raw emotion. The pounding drums and electric guitar underscored his desperate cry:
“Don’t walk into the sea, people live in pain, don’t walk into the sea, there’s no air in the sea.”
Like a scream breaking through chains.
Luo Ming got goosebumps. No matter how many times he heard it, Bo Qin’s voice always moved him.
He handed over a bubble tea. “Want to talk?”
Bo Qin took it, casually poking in the straw. “Not really. This kind of thing needs self-digestion.”
He took a sip. “Too sweet,” he said with a smile. “Almost sickeningly so.”
Luo Ming sighed and patted his shoulder. “When you feel like talking, I’m here.”
—
After the cancellation was announced, fans were understandably upset. But knowing it was due to Bo Qin’s health, they flooded the studio’s Weibo with messages urging him to take care of himself.
Bo Qin scrolled through them. Chen-jie handed him a folder. “A new job offer.”
Bo Qin raised an eyebrow. “Big deal, if you’re bringing it over personally.”
“A variety show,” she said.
Bo Qin never did variety shows, and Chen-jie knew that well. So for her to bring it herself meant it was special.
He flipped through it. “What kind?”
“Culture-themed slow variety. This is the second season. The first didn’t make waves, but had great ratings,” she explained. “No gimmicks, just exploring cultural heritage. Officially supported.”
Bo Qin read carefully. The director had a documentary background. He skimmed the résumé. “One question—why me?”
He tapped the file folder with a grin. The title read: Exploration.
He knew his own image well. As someone known for popularity, shows like this usually passed over him.
“The director saw your performance at the gala,” Chen-jie said. “This season focuses on the origins and development of Kunqu opera.”
Bo Qin nodded. “Got it.” He flipped through the pages. “Take it.”
[Author’s note]
Countdown to the straight guy’s awakening.
Just one more day.
Bo-ge, please wake up already. (lights a cigarette)
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