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."

His calm voice sounded so gentle to me.

That it made my eyes suddenly well up with tears.

He returned to the bedroom and said, "Have some warm water."

I wanted to say many "thank you", but I felt they would be too feeble.

I was burning up and in a daze, but I took the water and began to urge him to leave.

"Sorry, I've really caused you trouble. You should leave quickly, don't let me infect you."

I rambled on, saying many things, many of which I can't remember. "If I survive this, I'll offer myself to you after you leave..."

Brandon chuckled, "The probability of you offering yourself is way too high."

He comforted me, "Don't think too much about it. Have a good rest."

After that, I had a dream. I dreamt that Brandon was still the prince of Candyland, but because I had bitten him last time, leaving a wound, he fell ill and couldn't get out of bed.

I was scared awake.

When I woke up, I realized it was the landline that had woken me up.

I was still pondering whether the dream was some sort of prediction, whether Brandon would be infected by me, as I answered the phone.

The receptionist emotionlessly informed me, "The latest entry quarantine regulations have been released, and centralized quarantine is no longer required."

"You can go home now."

I was at a loss for a while.

My still-burning brain couldn't catch up. Brandon asked from behind the door, "What's wrong?"

I was still burning up.

But the hotel said that I could go home?

Originally, I had planned to stay at the hotel until I tested negative.

I had been afraid to let my family know I was sick.

I wanted to transfer the remaining room fee to Brandon and ask him to go home quickly.

But not only did he refuse to take the money, he also said, "I'll stay."

I was at a loss for words and blurted out, "You wouldn't... really wait for me to offer myself, would you?"

...

He was obviously speechless.

Then why didn't he leave?

I confirmed it many times and tried to persuade him kindly, but he still didn't intend to leave.

In order to reassure me, he emphasized, "It's not because of you."

But no matter how I thought about it, I felt that he was afraid of leaving me alone here.

The more I thought about it, the more guilty I felt. I decided to have my parents come and take me home.

After contacting my parents, I learned that a large number of people had fallen ill outside, and people like me had become the majority.

Before leaving, I wanted to ask Brandon for a way to contact him, but I felt embarrassed.

Our meeting had been so sudden, and our parting was just as abrupt.

But I should have been an unfortunate and unpleasant episode in his life.

When saying goodbye, I sincerely thanked him.

"Thank you, and I'm sorry! I hope you won't encounter unreliable people like me in the future."

He was stunned for a moment. Without waiting for his response, I armed myself with my suitcase and left the room.

……

Young people have good resistance, and within a week, I was back on my feet.

Perhaps due to good protection, my family members were also fine.

Seeing me idling around, my mother asked me to go to the supermarket to buy some groceries.

Seeing the throat lozenges on the shelf, I thought of Brandon.

I thought of the medicine he bought for me but didn't deliver, wondering if he was doing well and if he had fallen ill.

So when he suddenly appeared in front of me, I thought it was my own hallucination and slapped myself twice.

Brandon was taken aback when he saw me and was about to come towards me, but then he stopped when he saw me like that.

I didn't know what to say.

He didn't know what to say, either.

After a moment of awkward silence, he spoke first, "Hello."