Morning and Evening Chapter 17

He Mu slept deeply without a single dream all night. When he finally woke up, his body felt heavy and drained from the severe illness. He tossed off the covers in a daze, paused briefly at the threshold, and opened the door. Chang Ming’an was sitting at the dining table quietly drinking porridge. Hearing the movement, he glanced up at him.

“Morning.”

Every detail of yesterday came flooding back to He Mu: Chang Ming’an helping him switch into clean clothes, carrying him downstairs to get to the hospital, and even holding the IV drip while standing by his side outside the restroom. He froze on the spot, overwhelmed with embarrassment. Watching Chang Ming’an casually lower his gaze to focus back on his breakfast, He Mu quietly washed up, scooped himself a bowl, and pulled out the chair directly opposite him.

“No classes today…” He Mu began softly after finishing half his porridge, desperate to break the quiet. The moment the words left his mouth, he winced, remembering it was Saturday.

“Yeah, none,” Chang Ming’an replied softly.

Silence settled between them once more as they finished their meal, punctuated only by the soft clink of porcelain spoons touching the rims of their bowls. Seeing that He Mu was nearly done, Chang Ming’an slid the medicine and a glass of warm water across the table, placing a digital thermometer beside it.

“Take your medicine first, then check your fever.”

Once the timer beeped, He Mu pulled the thermometer out and turned it around to check. Before he could read the screen, Chang Ming’an naturally reached out, took it from his fingers, and lifted it toward the light. After reading the display, he looked over at him.

“You still have a low fever. Go lie back down.”

He Mu had a shift at his part-time job coming up. It was only one quick session as a teaching assistant, lasting a little over an hour, so it wouldn’t take much energy. He hated rescheduling lessons on such short notice, so he shook his head gently.

“I have a class to assist with today. It’s fine, really.”

Chang Ming’an frowned immediately. He pointed to the glass on the table, signaling He Mu to finish every drop of the warm water, his tone firm.

“Can’t you request a day off or swap shifts with someone? You’re still running a temperature.”

Aside from feeling slightly run-down, He Mu felt well enough to push through. He deeply appreciated Chang Ming’an’s concern, but he simply drained his glass, set it back down, and lowered his gaze in quiet refusal. Seeing him sitting there stubbornly silent with his head down, Chang Ming’an found himself at a complete loss. He couldn’t bring himself to push the issue, yet he hated letting He Mu go out sick. Unable to win the silent argument, he gave a soft sigh.

“I’ll drive you.”

He Mu still wavered, but Chang Ming’an had already stood up and snatched his car keys off the hook.

“Let’s go.”

He Mu quickly changed into his clothes, packed his bag, and knelt by the entryway to give Mu Mu’s broad face a warm squeeze before following Chang Ming’an down to the garage. By tacit agreement, neither of them brought up the previous night, yet He Mu could subtly sense that something fundamental had shifted between them.

Chang Ming’an avoided holding his gaze for too long, and physical contact was kept to a strict minimum. Even when he leaned across to help pull the seatbelt into place, his fingers brushed He Mu’s side, prompting an immediate “sorry.”

A quiet wave of disappointment washed over He Mu, but he quickly brushed it aside. At the very least, Chang Ming’an was still right beside him, which made being sick feel far less miserable.

He Mu worked at a local children’s dance studio not far from the university district, a position he had held for two years. He was remarkably patient with the kids, who adored him in return, and the senior instructors always looked out for him. He took his work seriously and had even considered pursuing dance education full-time after graduating.

Following He Mu’s directions, Chang Ming’an pulled up outside the building. He glanced down at his watch before turning to him.

“What time do you finish?”

He Mu hadn’t anticipated that Chang Ming’an would wait around to drive him back.

“I can just take the bus home…”

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just sit here and wait.”

He Mu’s fingers twisted nervously inside his hoodie pocket.

“An hour and a half.”

Chang Ming’an leaned over to unlatch his seatbelt for him.

“Go on up.”

An hour and a half was neither a long wait nor a short one. With a free schedule and nowhere in particular to be, Chang Ming’an decided to stay parked. He played an economics lecture on his phone as background noise, resting his head back against the headrest while his thoughts drifted.

He had originally intended to move back to his downtown apartment, putting some distance between them so they both had room to think clearly. Yet He Mu’s sudden illness had pulled everything right back to where it started.

Except things weren’t quite the same anymore.

It was late autumn, and most of the golden ginkgo leaves had tumbled from the branches. The quiet side streets were blanketed in thick layers of yellow, creating a vibrant golden carpet over the pavement.

Chang Ming’an remembered the single ginkgo leaf he had casually handed to He Mu back then. Neither of them could have anticipated that their bond would evolve into something so complicated. As for how it had happened, Chang Ming’an couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment. Did He Mu genuinely harbor feelings for him? He Mu had never explicitly confessed it, and Chang Ming’an didn’t dare ask outright.

What if the answer was yes? Chang Ming’an, usually so sharp and pragmatic, found his mind completely stalled. His thoughts felt thick and tangled, like a bowl of cold starch that couldn’t be stirred smooth no matter how hard he tried.

Lost in his thoughts, the hour and a half slipped by in what felt like moments. Checking his watch again, Chang Ming’an tapped his knuckles rhythmically against the leather steering wheel and decided to give it another ten minutes. Soon, small clusters of children began streaming out of the main entrance with their parents.

Worried that He Mu’s fever might have spiked again while teaching, Chang Ming’an locked the car and decided to check on him upstairs.

He followed the directory outside the elevator up to the fifth floor.

The floor housed several spacious dance studios featuring wooden floors and floor-to-ceiling glass walls. Most rooms were packed with energetic children practicing splits and stretches. In the studio furthest down the hall, He Mu was gathering up props.

His long hair was swept into a high bun, and he wore a lightweight dance top. His back was glistening with sweat and his cheeks were flushed pink as he knelt to talk to a young girl with her hair tied up in a matching style.

The little girl clearly adored him, holding onto his wrist as she looked up with wide eyes.

“Teacher He, did I do well in class today?”

“You did wonderfully,” He Mu replied gently. “Miao Miao, who’s picking you up today?”

The little girl pouted slightly.

“My cousin is supposed to get me, but he isn’t here yet. Can you wait with me?”

“I would, but someone is waiting for me downstairs,” He Mu said softly.

Miao Miao’s eyes rounded with curiosity.

“Who’s waiting? Is it your girlfriend?”

“No, nothing like that…”

He Mu was clearly at a loss when handling her playful interrogation. The little girl reached into her small bag, pulled out her phone, and held it up to show him.

“Look at this performance outfit the teacher picked out for me, it looks so silly…”

Whenever He Mu worked with children, he treated their thoughts with complete seriousness, avoiding the dismissive praise adults often fall back on. He looked at the photo carefully before offering his thoughts.

“Not at all, I think you look very cool in it.”

Miao Miao wrinkled her nose in protest.

“Why would you say cool? Cool is for boys, you’re supposed to call me pretty!”

He Mu thought about it for a second, a gentle smile touching his lips.

“Girls can be cool too, just like boys can be pretty. But I really have to head down now.”

Standing outside the studio, Chang Ming’an caught himself smiling without realizing it. Reassured that He Mu wasn’t overexerting himself, he quietly slipped back toward the elevator, returned to his car, and settled in to wait. A few minutes later, He Mu emerged from the lobby entrance guiding Miao Miao by the hand. He leaned down to say a few parting words to her before heading toward the parking area.

Spotting Chang Ming’an’s car, He Mu quickened his pace, stepping eagerly across the pavement under the warm autumn sun with a soft, helpless smile lingering on his face.

Watching him approach, Chang Ming’an’s hands tightened around the steering wheel as an unexpected flutter stirred in his chest, making his heart beat just a little bit faster.