My Contract Husband Won't Behave - Chapter 59
Wrapped in a towel and still damp from the shower, Nie Jingzhi sank softly into the hotel bed.
She watched Bo Jiusi’s tall figure enter the bathroom. The glass door closed, and water began to patter.
Her lips curved unconsciously.
She meant to wait for him, but pregnancy made her body unreliable. Her eyelids grew heavier. Tonight’s chaos had consumed every bit of strength, and her consciousness blurred.
When Bo Jiusi emerged, a towel hung loosely at his waist while droplets ran down his defined chest and disappeared beneath its edge.
Only when he reached the bed did he realize she had fallen asleep.
Wet hair spread over the pillow, darkening it. Frowning, he retrieved a hair dryer, plugged it in, and sat at the edge. He gently drew her onto his lap, one palm supporting her head while his fingers combed between the strands.
The dryer hummed softly. Warm air moved as he separated her hair again and again until every lock was dry and soft.
She never woke. She only shifted unconsciously against his lap like a cat finding a warm nest.
After putting away the dryer, he returned her to the pillow, covered her, and lay beside her. In the darkness, with her steady breathing and the faint rhythm of waves, he gathered her into his arms before closing his eyes.
***
Deep in the night, Bo Jiusi awoke suddenly.
The person in his arms was trembling.
He touched her forehead. Burning.
He sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. Amber light revealed flushed cheeks, dry white lips, and a tight frown. Nie Jingzhi curled deeper beneath the covers.
“Nie Jingzhi?” He patted her face.
She only made indistinct sounds, lashes trembling without opening.
His face sank. He called reception. “Send a doctor. Now.”
Within fifteen minutes, the doctor arrived with a case and examined her efficiently.
“Thirty-eight point nine degrees Celsius—about one hundred and two Fahrenheit.” He packed his instruments and looked Bo Jiusi over. “Her husband?”
“Mm.”
The doctor immediately became stern. “How are you caring for her? Your pregnant wife is burning with fever. Young people may crave pleasure, but there are limits. It’s the middle of the night. Can a pregnant woman withstand that?”
Bo Jiusi’s jaw tightened. “We didn’t do that.”
The doctor paused. “Then how?”
Bo Jiusi said nothing. Images flashed: her storming into the meeting to tear the contract, dragging him from icy water, kneeling in the wind with soaked hair to give him rescue breathing.
His eyes darkened. “Exhaustion and cold.”
The doctor’s reproach intensified. “Regardless, you’re her husband. You brought a pregnant woman with you. How could you let her exhaust herself in cold wind? Fine husband you are.”
Bo Jiusi accepted every word in silence.
The doctor left fever medicine and directions. “It’s safe during pregnancy. Give her one tablet at a time and cool her down with a damp towel on her forehead. Don’t use ice.”
At the door, he looked back. “Take good care of her. Don’t fail such a good woman.”
Silence returned.
Bo Jiusi stood beside the bed holding the medicine, looking down at her fever-bright but still beautiful face.
All his life, people had revered, feared, or hated him. Never had a stranger scolded him into silence. More absurdly, he had not wanted to defend himself.
He poured warm water, removed a tablet, and sat. Lifting her with the blanket, he held her against him.
Her body was limp as if boneless, her head tilted into his neck and her hot breath striking his skin. One arm supported her waist while he placed the tablet at her lips.
“Open.”
No response.
His thumb stroked her cracked lower lip and gently pried her lips and teeth apart. He placed the medicine inside, then offered water.
She choked. Water escaped the corner of her mouth. He frowned, wiped it with his finger, and tried again.
This time her throat moved. She swallowed.
He exhaled silently, finding it more exhausting than winning a contract worth tens of millions.
After laying her down, he wrung a cool towel in the bathroom, folded it, and placed it over her hot forehead. He pulled an armchair to the bedside and watched.
Whenever the towel warmed, he changed it and applied it again.
After several rounds, her brow loosened and her breathing steadied.
The night was black as ink, the tide faint.
As he rose to change the towel again, she murmured. He bent closer.
“Bo Jiusi… don’t push me away…”
Her voice was soft and thick with tears. Fever clouded her, her eyes closed while her lips moved again.
“I truly… like you so much…”
She buried her face into the pillow and went still.
Bo Jiusi froze.
Only the air conditioner and her uneven breaths sounded. Yet the muddled confession fell like a red-hot stone into the deep lake of ice inside him.
Steam hissed. Fine cracks spread.
He remembered her reddened eyes over the torn contract, the force with which she dragged him through the sea, and her clumsy rescue breathing on the sand.
She had truly feared for him. Truly feared his death.
It had nothing to do with the child or profit. Only his life.
Some place empty for years suddenly collapsed.
He placed his palm over her hand at the bedside. It was hot. Her fingers curled unconsciously around his forefinger.
The grip was faint, yet touched a string no one had reached.
Bo Jiusi replaced the towel. He did not return to bed. He sat watching her as darkness paled and the sea horizon became misty blue-gray.
He stayed all night, listening as her breath softened and the far tide came and went.
Into the wasteland of his heart, barren for too long, her fevered confession quietly poured the first handful of warm sand.
Late in the night, her temperature finally fell. His palm touched her cheek: still warm, no longer burning.
He bent and kissed her forehead, restrained but tender.
“Sleep,” he whispered.
