Ji Jiaheng wanted to say more, but the IV fluids from the night before hadn't cured the nausea. He felt like he'd been swallowed whole by a beast and was currently being violently regurgitated.
Seeing his pale face, Su Li hurriedly poured him some warm water. He took a sip, but his stomach flipped again.
Given Su Li's slight frame, hauling a man his size into the bathroom was a physical impossibility. She scrambled to find a basin and shoved it under his chin. It was a complete loss of dignity. Ji Jiaheng wanted to refuse, but the involuntary heave of his stomach left him no choice. He took the basin, his knuckles white.
After the chaotic night they'd had, he'd already purged everything. Now, all that came up was bitter water.
He turned to look at Su Li. To him, she looked like a deflated plastic bag—hollowed out by exhaustion. Su Li, usually bold and sharp-tongued, couldn't even meet his eyes. She held her breath, whisked the basin away to the bathroom, and flushed the remnants of his pride away.
As the afternoon sun bled into a bruised twilight, Su Li finally re-entered the bedroom.
"What exactly happened last night?" Ji Jiaheng asked. No matter how gentle or composed he usually was, waking up with a hangover and a leg encased in a heavy plaster cast had stripped away his patience.
"At what point… did your memory cut out?" Su Li asked cautiously.
"Right when you started shoving shots down my throat," he replied flatly.
Oh boy, then we have a lot to catch up on, Su Li thought. She didn't want to relive the carnage, but with Ji Jiaheng staring her down, she had to confess.
Yesterday, Ji Jiaheng had been a mess of epic proportions. As Su Li and the others dragged him toward the exit, her foot had slipped at the top of the stairs. He didn't just fall—he was launched. The entire group had frozen in shock. No one expected the night's entertainment to include a "bonus stunt" of a flying PhD candidate.
The ambulance arrived shortly after. As the primary culprit, Su Li had to climb in. Tao Tao had offered to come along for moral support, but Weiwei—still in her sequins and gin-soaked aura—had blocked her.
"I'm going," Weiwei had snapped at Su Li. "I'm afraid if you're alone with him in that ambulance, you'll finish the job and strangle him."
It turned out Su Li's "expert intuition" had failed her spectacularly. Ji Jiaheng wasn't some boy-toy being kept by a dancer; he was a Sociology PhD student paying Weiwei for fieldwork interviews. Jackson and Weiwei were the actual couple. Looking at the pained, frowning man on the stretcher, Su Li realized she had been catastrophically wrong about him.
By the time Jackson and Tao Tao arrived at the hospital, dawn had broken. The morning was a blur of blood tests, IV drips, CT scans, and Ji Jiaheng's occasional "resurrection" howls from the pain.
The nurses watched the motley crew with unconcealed judgment: Tao Tao in her head-to-toe Chanel, Weiwei reeking of booze and sequins, Jackson the DJ, and Su Li, clutching the camera gear and looking like she'd aged a decade.
"How did he end up like this?" a young nurse asked, her tone somewhere between curious and accusatory. "What is your… relationship?"
"We're… colleagues," Su Li muttered, her face burning.
The nurse paused, eyes scanning their "creative" outfits. "Are you sure you people have legitimate jobs?"
No one answered. After all, their "legitimate" roles were: a director who sold lies, an influencer pretending to be a billionaire, a nightclub DJ, and a girl who danced in a bikini for atmosphere.
Once the cast was set, Ji Jiaheng was cleared for discharge. Su Li had tried to get his phone password several times while he was semi-conscious. He gave her three different answers, each one wrong. Face ID was a bust because he couldn't keep his eyes open.
With nowhere to go, the group stood in the hospital hallway. Weiwei, propping up a half-asleep Jackson, glared at Su Li with a look that demanded a solution.
"Maybe a hotel?" Tao Tao suggested.
"No," Su Li interjected, quickly calculating the cost of a week's stay in Beijing. "He's coming to my place."
Back in the present, after hearing the full saga, Ji Jiaheng's first priority was clear. "Where are my laptop and recorder?"
"Safe. I carried them back myself."
He checked the bag, his expression softening only slightly once he saw his research was intact. "And my leg?"
"The doctor said it's a minor fracture. You'll be fine in a month," Su Li said airily, conveniently forgetting to mention he'd be on crutches the entire time.
Ji Jiaheng went quiet, his head throbbing. As Su Li turned to leave the room, he spoke up. "So, what's the plan?"
"I've covered all the medical bills," Su Li offered tentatively. This was her biggest concession. "I can pay you a settlement fee?"
"I don't need your money," he snapped.
"Then what do you need?"
"I can't move for a month, and my fieldwork isn't finished. I need someone to take care of me." He looked at her, his intention nakedly obvious.
Su Li widened her eyes, playing the innocent card. "Don't you have friends for that?"
"No," he said, completely discarding his pride.
Su Li shifted gears into defensive mode. "Look, I admit the drinks were a mistake. But how was I supposed to know a PhD couldn't handle his liquor?"
"So, you're saying you pressured me into drinking without even knowing my limit?" The PhD in him was already dissecting her argument, preparing for a counterattack.
"Yes, it's my fault," Su Li sighed. "But can you ask for something realistic? You're a man, I'm a woman—you staying in my apartment for a month? It's not appropriate."
"Look at my leg," he deadpanned. "What exactly do you think I'm capable of doing that's 'inappropriate'?"
Suddenly, a bolt of realization hit Su Li. She leaned in, her eyes narrowing. "Ji Jiaheng… do you actually like me?"
He went silent.
"If you're using this as an excuse to move in because of some crush, don't," Su Li said firmly. "I'm a professional. I have a real career. I honestly don't have the time to play house with a student."