Chapter 11: What the Hell Is This “Emotional Surge” Period?
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Unexpectedly, this bout of "cold" was so fierce. Although he had felt much better that morning, Jiang Luan now sensed his heart racing, his body burning up, and his vision growing blurry. His legs weakened, nearly causing him to kneel before Qi Shaolin, but fortunately, the fool caught him just in time.
“Wife, what’s wrong with you?” The fool’s voice was filled with worry.
Damn it, I might just die from a simple cold.
Jiang Luan opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
“Wife?” Qi Shaolin continued calling him, even lightly slapping his face, “Wake up, wife, don’t scare Lin’er…”
Qi Shaolin’s anxious calls gradually faded from his ears.
Jiang Luan’s mind grew foggy; he didn’t realize Qi Shaolin had lifted him into the air.
Strangely, he didn’t black out or lose consciousness. Instead, his mind remained surprisingly clear.
He vaguely recalled last night—how he had burned up with fever in the first half, sweating so much he kicked off the covers in the second half.
Qi Shaolin poured him a pot of water.
Jiang Luan, half-drunk and half-spilled, soaked half the mattress.
So, for the latter half of the night, the two had to squeeze together to sleep, their skin occasionally brushing—an oddly comforting sensation.
Yes, that was the feeling.
Qi Shaolin laid Jiang Luan down on the bed and was about to fetch a doctor, but his arm was grabbed.
“Wet like this, how can you sleep?” Jiang Luan mumbled in protest.
Qi Shaolin studied Jiang Luan silently for a long while, his expression showing an unusual, complex emotion.
He pushed Jiang Luan away, but Jiang Luan clung on tighter.
Qi Shaolin tried to push him off again but stopped midway and gently touched Jiang Luan’s face.
That sparked something in Jiang Luan, who pressed closer like a cat rubbing against a hand, lazily lifting his half-closed eyes and asking in a daze, “Why don’t you come to bed?”
Qi Shaolin: “…”
Faced with his wife's “invitation,” Qi Shaolin remained unmoved… at least outwardly.
With a cold expression, almost ruthless, he wrapped Jiang Luan tightly in the blanket and placed him on the bed.
Jiang Luan, still dazed, tried to undress but was immobilized by the wrapping, pouting and kicking the blanket like a child.
“If you keep this up…” Qi Shaolin muttered vaguely, his gaze darkening.
Suddenly, he realized something and hurried to the door.
Left Lang had only reached halfway through the courtyard when the sudden sound of the door opening startled him.
“You’re back again?”
At the doorway, Qi Shaolin reverted to his usual, less-than-brilliant self, glaring and questioning Left Lang with displeasure.
Left Lang was momentarily stunned, then whispered, “I smelled… something.”
He instinctively glanced inside the room.
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“Master Jiang is…” Qi Shaolin raised his hand to block the door, his expression anxious. “My wife is very ill, and it’s strange!”
Left Lang: “?”
“He kept taking off his clothes! Insisting on going out bare-assed, no matter how much Lin’er tried to persuade him, he wouldn’t listen, so I had to wrap him up in the blanket!”
“…”
Hearing that Jiang Luan actually wanted to go out naked left Left Lang speechless.
The child’s expressionless face seemed to silently comment, “As expected of the famously lustful and desperate Young Master Jiang.”
“I understand,” Left Lang nodded, “I’ll fetch the doctor immediately.”
He turned and ran off without mentioning payment for the doctor—assuming Qi Shaolin had none.
Qi Shaolin closed the door, staring thoughtfully at the figure on the bed.
...
...
“Doctor, can you repeat what illness I have?” Jiang Luan asked, shocked.
“It’s not an illness, just a normal physiological condition,” the young doctor said helplessly.
Jiang Luan glared at him. “Damn it, I’m in heat!”
“...It’s not ‘in heat,’ it’s the mating season.”
Jiang Luan had completely tuned out the doctor’s explanation. All he could think was: Damn it, what the hell does ‘in heat’ mean?!
Two hours earlier, Left Lang had summoned the same doctor who treated Jiang Luan’s cold the day before.
The young doctor, surnamed Xu, was calm and clearly accustomed to such cases.
He glanced casually at Jiang Luan, waved his hand, and said, “It’s nothing serious, just a precursor to mating season. Let him ride it out himself.”
Qi Shaolin looked worriedly at Jiang Luan, who writhed like a worm under the blanket.
“But he looks so miserable.”
“Oh, then apply some cold compresses,” Dr. Xu advised.
In this room were an inexperienced youth and a simple giant, obviously baffled by this 'brotherly' condition.
Dr. Xu had no choice but to write a prescription. “Young Master Jiang is approaching mating season; this medicine can temporarily suppress it.”
Left Lang watched and asked, “Can he keep taking this medicine?”
“Medicine always has side effects. My advice is to follow nature’s way—if possible, engage in sexual activity,” Dr. Xu said. “During yesterday’s consultation, I found Young Master Jiang is naturally weak and needs proper adjustment, or future childbirth could be very risky.”
“…”
Left Lang instinctively glanced at Qi Shaolin.
Qi Shaolin looked utterly bewildered.
Ah, Left Lang thought, the worry about childbirth might be unnecessary.
By dusk, Jiang Luan gradually regained consciousness. Young Doctor Xu was still there, instructing Left Lang on care.
He then learned that his broken body was not only frail but also animal-like in its mating urges, naturally dependent on men.
This was truly…
Fuck it all!
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Young Doctor Xu nodded at the despairing Jiang Luan.
“Since Young Master Jiang is awake, I will take my leave. Left Lang, the consultation fee is two qian, please pay.”
Left Lang pulled a bulging pouch from his sleeve and paid the fee.
“Is this the money left from selling the ring?” Jiang Luan saw it and sighed hopelessly. “I’ll pay you back later.”
“No need. It’s from selling ginseng,” Left Lang said.
Jiang Luan and Left Lang exchanged glances, then recalled the matter of the gift from Duke Su Ping. “Damn… you’re quite resourceful.”
Left Lang, taking it as a matter of course, escorted Young Doctor Xu out.
Once the door closed, Qi Shaolin leaned over the bed, worry in his voice. “Wife, you really scared Lin’er today.”
Jiang Luan’s mood was complicated.
He patted Qi Shaolin’s head. “Do you think they had vasectomies or sterilization back in ancient times?”
Qi Shaolin: “??”
“Forget it,” Jiang Luan sighed. “Lin’er, help me fetch a basin of water. I’m all sweaty and sticky… By the way, who wrapped me up like this?”
Qi Shaolin immediately got up. “I’ll get the water right away!”
But when Qi Shaolin returned with water, he brought along a young girl—the same maid who had helped Jiang Luan with his hair earlier.
Her name was Qiu Li, the cook’s daughter who occasionally helped out at the manor to earn some money.
The girl was diligent and had rushed in upon hearing about Young Master Jiang’s illness to assist.
But Jiang Luan only wanted water to wipe himself down; how could he let a girl help?
Blushing, he pushed her away. “No need, no need. Lin’er can help me.”
Qi Shaolin: “?”
The initially rejected girl looked a bit disappointed but brightened upon hearing Jiang Luan’s words.
“Then I won’t disturb Young Master and Young Madam. Qiu Li takes her leave.”
She closed the door with a sly smile.
Jiang Luan: “…”
Damn, why did this feel so off?
“Then, wife, Lin’er will help you.”
Qi Shaolin had no choice but to soak a handkerchief in the basin.
Jiang Luan was unguarded, opening his inner robe and tossing his black hair forward, revealing his snow-white, slender back.
“Help me wipe my back.”
Subconsciously, Jiang Luan still regarded Qi Shaolin as a child. Even after experiencing the mating season onset, he hadn’t come to terms with what this ‘brotherly’ gender entailed.
Qi Shaolin knelt on the bed, handkerchief in hand, approaching.
...Along with the closeness came his youthful masculine aura, an inexplicable pressure.
Jiang Luan felt his breath hitch, a tormenting throb rising from his lower abdomen to his groin, and suddenly he couldn’t bear it.
Instinctively, he pushed Qi Shaolin away.
“Y-you, stay away from me!”