"No need," Brandon said calmly, "Your Visa card can only be used abroad; remember to get a different one."

He was so gentle that I could have cried.

But I actually wanted his WhatsApp ID!

……

The suite was really expensive, but it's spacious.

There were even two bathrooms alone.

But the problem was...

Why was there only one bed?

I wandered around, hoping to find a hidden door that would lead to another bedroom.

But no, there was nothing—really nothing.

Brandon remained silent, meticulously disinfecting the doorknobs and floor drains with a spray bottle.

Clearing my throat, I said softly, "Um… I'll sleep on the sofa?"

He glanced at me.

I explained, "There's only one bed…"

He shrugged it off, "You sleep in the bed."

"That would be too embarrassing. You're the one paying for the room."

...

That was all he said before turning back to wash the kettle.

Brandon appeared cold and aloof, and his tone was flat, but it turned out he was quite considerate.

I ran over and pressed down on the kettle he was about to wash. "Don't. The one from the hotel isn't clean. I brought my own!"

I opened my 28-inch suitcase, half of which was filled with snacks and daily necessities.

I had heard that the food during quarantine wasn't great, so before returning home, I splurged on a whole box of instant snacks, along with some hot dogs, sandwiches, and pickled vegetables.

I even packed a foldable water bottle.

It was already past nine in the evening, after the hotel's meal service hours. I asked him, "Are you hungry? Want to share some instant snacks?"

Brandon shook his head and took my kettle.

Gurgle.

Someone's stomach growled.

I looked up at him, and his ears turned slightly red, though he pretended to be nonchalant.

She was so cute.

I chuckled to myself, saying, "Just pretend you're helping me eat. I really don't want to take a bunch of instant snacks home."

After boiling the water, we sat at the table and swallowed the snacks together.

They were really delicious.

After finishing, I collapsed contentedly onto the sofa.

It was getting late, and I planned to wash up and go to bed.

After brushing my teeth and just as I was about to lie down, I suddenly realized a problem.

The blanket—there was only one.

Even with the air conditioning set to thirty degrees, it was still December in the north.

Brandon and I exchanged glances. I gathered my courage and spoke first.

"How about… we sleep together?"

Brandon let out a sigh.

"Aren't you afraid?"

I blinked and said, "What's there to be afraid of?"

...

Brandon looked a bit helpless. "I can do without the blanket."

I panicked. "No way! You paid for the room, and you shouldn't sleep on the sofa or go without a blanket. What if you catch a cold?"

He stared at me, making me feel a little guilty.

I shrank my neck, "Well, even though I really want to give the blanket to you, I'm afraid of the cold."

I raised three fingers to the sky, "I swear, I sleep very honestly!"

He sighed again.

It sounded like he was reluctant. "Fine."

I placed a bottle of water in the middle of the blanket as a dividing line, and we each took our side.

Brandon's breathing was shallow as he slept. I was initially a bit tense, but as time went on, fatigue washed over me, and I fell into a deep sleep.

I had a strange dream.

In my dream, Brandon was a prince from Candyland, his whole body made of sweets. His arms were chocolate, his fingers were vanilla cookies, and his lips were strawberry candy.

I accidentally crossed into his country and couldn't believe they were all candy people.

He extended his arm and let me take a bite.

I looked at him suspiciously, hesitated, and then bit down.

It was really chocolate-flavored.

I stepped back and stared at him.

What's this, good enough to eat?

He said, "Do you believe me now?"

I said, "I don't believe it unless you let me take another bite."

He said, "Okay, where do you want to bite?"

I acted like a hooligan, hugged his neck, and took a bite of his lips.

Why isn't it strawberry flavor?

"Hiss!"

Brandon pushed me away.

"Did you take your temperature?"

I heard someone calling outside and opened my eyes drowsily.

Brandon was propped up above me, with flushed cheeks and wet lips, as if he had just been bitten.

What the hell? I thought.

Right now, I just wanted to explode on the spot, feeling ashamed and embarrassed.

He calmly got up and pulled my arm out from under the blanket.

The electronic thermometer beeped.

37.1°C.

He was left speechless.

I immediately said, "Listen to my explanation!"

He smiled, "Okay, explain yourself."

With him being so cooperative, I didn't know where to start.

The hotel staff was still waiting outside, Brandon glanced at me and then "shot" me in the forehead.

37.3°C.

He frowned and asked me, "Do you feel feverish or anything?"

I didn't react and just blurted out.

"Just my face feels a bit hot."

Thinking about the dream and my actions, I felt really embarrassed.

He paused, didn't say anything, and turned to put on a mask and talk to the staff at the door.

I saw that the tips of his ears were a bit red.

"It's a bit over 37 degrees, no other symptoms, probably just because I just woke up..."

He patiently explained to the staff.

I listened to the conversation outside, and scenes of him propped above me involuntarily floated in my mind.

But that was too much.

I couldn't help but bury my face in the pillow and kick excitedly.

Damn, Sarah Johnson, you're really something! I thought.

Right now, I felt a mix of excitement, shyness, embarrassment, and guilt, not to mention how complicated my feelings were.

Then Brandon came back and saw me having a fit on the bed.

He seemed to have chuckled softly and asked me, "Are you sure there are no symptoms?"

I immediately stopped moving like a dead fish.

"No."

"Okay, your nucleic acid test was negative yesterday, so there shouldn't be a problem."

After that, we both deliberately avoided what happened in the morning.

I thought we would just spend the next three days calmly and then go our separate ways.

Unexpectedly, on the third day, I started showing symptoms.

At first, I just felt a dry throat, thinking it was because the air conditioning had been on all the time; later, I started feeling dizzy.

The staff came to take my temperature, and it was 37.8, a slight fever.

The nucleic acid test results came out that night, and as expected, I tested positive.

And in the evening, the front desk called the bedroom's landline.

Brandon picked it up.

By then, I already had a hunch and kept my distance from him, always wearing a mask.

He listened quietly to the person on the other end and only responded with a "Hmm."

After hanging up the phone, he looked at me.

"You..."

Seeing that he was hesitating to speak, I understood.

I thought I was lucky, but I didn't expect that I would really fall into the "trap".

I lowered my eyes, too guilty to look at him.

"I'm sorry for dragging you into this."

He said, "It's okay. I volunteered."

His tone was calm, showing no signs of blame or unhappiness.

The calmer he was, the worse I felt. I almost wished he would scold me a little.

How could someone be so kind?

I called the front desk to ask if there were any available rooms, but there were none.

Every day, new arrivals were brought in for quarantine.

I feel powerless.

The only thing I could do now was to keep my distance from Brandon as much as possible.

I thought about sleeping in the living room while Brandon took the bedroom, trying to avoid opening doors as much as I could.

He disagreed, saying, "You're running a fever, and your immunity is low. Sleeping in the living room will just make it worse."

The hotel sent over some fever-reducing medicine, but it was just "the flu," and I had to rely on the medication to recover.

I patted my chest and assured him, "I've always had strong immunity. I don't need medicine for a fever; a good sleep will do. Don't worry!"

His eyes were filled with doubt, as if asking, “Then why are you sick now?”

I felt resentful. I had squeezed onto subways and eaten street food while studying abroad for over two years without a hitch, and I even had a nucleic acid test before entering the country. Who could have predicted this?

"Anyway, I'm sleeping on the couch. We need to keep our distance."

After saying that, I held my breath and quickly ran into the bedroom to pull out my suitcase.

I put on my down jacket, wrapped it tightly around me, and flopped down on the couch.

"Don't even think about it; the couch is mine!"

Brandon silently watched my series of actions and sighed.

He stood up, walked out of the bedroom, and approached me.

He drew closer, and I shouted at him, "Don't come over! I'm a giant virus factory right now!"

He ignored me and stood beside the couch, looking down at me.

I blinked.

"You sleep in the bedroom."

Before I could react, he bent down, reached out.

Before I could react, he effortlessly scooped me up, carrying me toward the bedroom.

……

I was like, what the hell?

If it weren't for the heavy down jacket I was wearing and the fact that we both had on N95 masks, this could have been a pretty romantic scene.

I wasn't sure if it was the fever or something else, but my heart was racing.

He placed me on the bed, and just as I was about to sit up, he said, "Do you want me to carry you again?"

I felt my face flush and shook my head vigorously.

"You can close the door."

"Okay."

His face gradually disappeared behind the door. I whispered, "Thank you."

His hand paused for a moment on the door, "You're welcome."

……

In the middle of the night, I started burning up with a fever, my whole body ached, making it impossible to sleep.

I took a dose of painkiller, which only helped a little, and the fever continued.

It was nothing like the easy recovery people talked about online; I felt miserable, as if I were on the brink of death.

I also started coughing. Thinking about Brandon sleeping outside, I covered my mouth, trying my best to stifle the sounds.

I ran out of water on the bedside table, but I didn't dare to go out to refill it.

Not long after, Brandon knocked on the door.

"Do you need water?"

As soon as I opened my mouth, I started coughing, my throat hoarse: "...Yes."

He opened the door and came in, taking my water bottle.

The hotel provided bottled water, but without a water dispenser, I had to use a manual pump, making it a hassle every time I needed water.

I turned over to check my phone; it was 3 AM.

Brandon was boiling water for me.

"I ordered throat lozenges; the hotel should be able to deliver them tomorrow. Hang in there for now."