Haoran lowered his gaze. "For precautions."
Zixuan stared at him. "It's just a stomachache."
Haoran's expression hardened. "It wasn't only a stomachache, Zixuan."
The way he said his name made Zixuan tremble in fear. Why was Haoran angry?
He looked away, fingers tightening around the blanket. "You're overreacting."
"I'm not," Haoran said coldly. "You could have…" he stopped himself, exhaled sharply, and sat on the edge of the bed instead. "You scared me."
Zixuan blinked, startled. He had expected Haoran to scold or berate him. But that didn't happen—the man in front of him looked so tired, almost helpless.
He wanted to say something, but his mouth stayed shut.
Haoran's gaze softened as it fell to Zixuan's abdomen. He reached out, hesitating before resting his palm gently over the blanket there.
"You shouldn't drink anymore," he said quietly. "Promise me."
Zixuan stared at Haoran's palm on his abdomen, a strange warmth spreading through him.
