Oops! My Inner Thoughts Are Ruining The Plot

Chapter 87: Chapter

Wenzhe let out a soft, genuine chuckle a sound so rare it surprised even him. But instead of turning back toward the open window as she expected, he simply settled back down on the floor, crossing his legs comfortably and leaning his back against the wooden wall of the room.

"I refuse to leave," Wenzhe said calmly, his voice smooth and entirely unbothered.

Su Yueqing’s jaw dropped, her piece of osmanthus cake hovering inches from her open mouth.

[He refuses?!] her mind shrieked in absolute disbelief. [Did this block of wood’s brain finally rot from all that military training? This is a lady’s temporary bedchamber! He’s a whole-ass General, and he’s just sitting there squatting like a stubborn stray dog!]

"What do you mean you refuse?!" Su Yueqing hissed in a fierce whisper, throwing her hands up. "Master Xi, your quarters are in the Northern Wing! The window is right behind you, it is wide open, and the night air is freezing my nose off. Get out!"

Wenzhe folded his arms across his chest, his dark eyes locked onto her flustered face with a sudden, unyielding stubbornness.

"My brother is recovering from a critical illness under your care," Wenzhe replied smoothly, his tone perfectly reasonable. "As his elder brother and the master of this estate, it is my duty to keep watch. If his condition changes in the middle of the night, I should be here."

[Liar! Shameless, thick-skinned liar!] Su Yueqing cursed violently inside her head, her face burning hot. [He doesn’t want to watch Mingyu, he just wants to torment me! He’s trying to steal my makeshift bed because he knows I laid out the softest blankets!]

"There is only one mattress on the floor, Wenzhe," she pointed out sharply, glaring at him. "Are you planning to sleep on the hard wood? Because I am absolutely not sharing with you."

"I am a soldier, Wife. I have slept on muddy battlefields and sharp rocks," Wenzhe murmured, a dangerous, deeply amused glint flashing in his dark eyes as he looked at her defensive posture. "A hard wooden floor in a warm room is luxury to me. Go to sleep. I won’t move an inch."

Su Yueqing bit her lip, realized she couldn’t drag a six-foot-tall martial artist out of the room by herself, and violently wrapped her blanket around her shoulders, turning her back to him with a sharp huff.

[Fine! Freeze to death on the floor, see if I care!] she thought angrily, closing her eyes tight. [Just wait until tomorrow’s banquet, Wenzhe. I’ll make sure everyone thinks you’re a tyrant who forces his wife to sleep on the floor!]

Listening to her furious internal threats, Wenzhe settled his head back against the wall, a soft, contented smile gracing his lips in the dark as he watched over her and his sleeping brother.

In the dead of night, the lanterns had burned low, casting long, heavy shadows across the quiet room.

Su Yueqing woke up with a start, her throat dry and her body stiff from the thin mattress on the floor. She glanced over at Wenzhe, who was still sitting propped against the wall, his eyes closed and his breathing deep, seemingly fast asleep. Shifting out of her heavy blankets as quietly as possible, she slipped past him and left the room to use the restroom.

When she headed back to her bedside a few minutes later, stepping softly over the cold wooden floorboards, a faint, muffled sound broke the absolute silence of the courtyard.

It was a low, pained whimper.

Su Yueqing’s instincts kicked in instantly, her pulse racing. Thinking it was Mingyu experiencing a sudden relapse or a spike in his fever, she quickly became alert. Abandoning all caution, she practically ran the remaining steps back into the room, rushing straight toward the small bed where the boy lay.

But to her utter surprise, the little dumpling was sleeping peacefully. His cheeks were still a healthy pink, his tiny chest rising and falling in a perfectly steady, rhythmic breath. He hadn’t stirred at all.

Confused, Su Yueqing stood frozen by the side of the bed. If it wasn’t Mingyu, then who—

Another ragged, breathless whimper echoed through the dark corner of the room.

Su Yueqing slowly turned her head around, her eyes widening as they landed on the massive figure of Wenzhe still slumped against the wall.

Wenzhe’s head was tilted back against the hard wood, but his face was no longer calm and stoic. His brow was furrowed in a tight, pained knot, and a thin layer of cold sweat glistened on his forehead under the dim moonlight. He let out another low, shuddering whimper, his large shoulders trembling slightly beneath his robes as he instinctively tried to curl into himself for warmth.

Su Yueqing walked over slowly, her eyebrows knitting together in sudden realization. She knelt down beside him and cautiously placed the back of her hand against his forehead.

He was burning hot.

[Are you kidding me?!] her mind exploded in sheer exasperation, though her hands moved with practiced, gentle efficiency. [A cold?! The great, invincible General of the empire caught a cold from sitting by an open window for a few hours?! What happened to sleeping on muddy battlefields and sharp rocks, you giant idiot?!]

[Ding!] Nine’s voice chimed in, sounding entirely unbothered. [System scan confirms the Target’s immune system was temporarily compromised due to extreme exhaustion and skipping dinner, combined with the draft from the open window. His current body temperature is rising.]

[Great. Just fantastic,] Su Yueqing groaned internally, pulling her hand back as Wenzhe leaned into her cool touch with a weak, unconscious sigh. [He sneaks in here acting like a dramatic guardian angel, and now I have to nurse two Xi family brothers in the same night. If I don’t get some sleep before this banquet tomorrow, I’m going to poison the Governor’s entire guest list.]

Aloud, she let out a sharp, annoyed click of her tongue. She reached over, grabbed Wenzhe by his heavy shoulder, and gave him a firm shake.

"Wenzhe. Hey, wake up, Master Xi," she whispered urgently, slapping his cheek lightly. "Get up. You’re burning up."

Wenzhe’s long eyelashes fluttered open, his dark eyes unfocused and heavily glazed with fever. He blinked sluggishly at her, his usual sharp intellect completely dulled by the sickness.

"Wife...?" he mumbled, his voice incredibly hoarse and rough. He tried to straighten his back, but a sudden fit of shivering racked his frame, making his teeth chatter. "The window... I told you... I am a soldier..."

"Yes, a soldier who is currently freezing to death in my room," Su Yueqing snapped, though she reached over and grabbed the thick spare blanket from her own makeshift bed, throwing it unceremoniously over his broad shoulders. "Stop talking. You look pathetic."

She covered him up tightly, tucking the edges of the heavy blanket around his shivering shoulders, and let out a long, exhausted sigh. As she looked around the dark room, reality hit her: she hadn’t brought enough bedding into Mingyu’s quarters to accommodate two full-grown adults. Her own makeshift mattress on the floor was now mostly stripped of its warmth.

Shaking her head at the sheer absurdity of her situation, she turned around and was about to walk away to find a spare cloak or search the cabinets for something else to sleep under.

But before she could even take a single step, a large, burning-hot hand shot out from beneath the blanket. Wenzhe caught her wrist, his grip surprisingly firm despite his fever.

"Don’t go," he muttered, his voice thick and rough. He tugged her back down to the floor toward him, his glazed eyes locking onto hers in the dim light. "We can share."

"Are you insane? Release me, Wenzhe—" Su Yueqing started to argue, her face instantly flushing hot as she tried to pull her wrist free.

Before she could utter another word of refusal, Wenzhe pulled her forward with a sudden exertion of his strength. Su Yueqing gasped as she fell right against his broad, feverish chest. Without giving her a second to scramble away, Wenzhe wrapped his long arms tightly around her waist, shifting his massive frame to pull the thick blanket entirely over both of them.

He held her flush against him, burying his face into the crook of her neck with a low, shivering sigh as the shared warmth began to soothe his chills.

Su Yueqing’s mind shrieked in absolute, chaotic panic, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. [Nine! The executioner is using physical force! He’s holding me hostage in a blanket cocoon! Do I stab him? Where is my medical scalpel?!]

[Ding!] Nine’s digital voice chimed in, sounding remarkably smug. [Scan indicates the Target’s heart rate is elevated, but his current actions are purely driven by a primitive, feverish need for a heat source. Also, Host, your own body temperature is rising rapidly. Are you sure you want to stab your only source of warmth on this freezing night?]

[Shut up, Nine!] she cursed internally, freezing completely stiff in his embrace.

She tried to wiggle away, but Wenzhe only tightened his grip, his deep, hot breaths brushing against her skin. "Stay still, Wife," he mumbled sleepily against her neck, his body finally stopping its violent shivering as he anchored himself to her. "You are warm."

Su Yueqing glared into the darkness, her face burning so hot she felt like she was the one with the fever. She bit her lip, realizing that trying to fight a stubborn, sick general in a confined space was completely futile.

[Fine,] she thought fiercely, closing her eyes and forcing her tense muscles to relax against him. [I’ll let you use me as a human heater tonight, Wenzhe. But tomorrow morning, you are going to pay for this.]