Done, Yu Xi pushed himself up on unsteady arms. "I... I need a shower," he declared, swinging his legs off the bed.
"Where are you going? You will fall." Panic, sharp and bright, lanced through Jian Ci. "Just lie down. I will… I will wipe you down. It will cool you off."
An old memory from his childhood surfaced. Jian Ci's mother used to wipe with a wet towel with gentle hands when he had a fever. He had clung to that memory, like a lifeline in the darkness. "Stay there. I will be back."
Yu Xi nodded, sinking back onto the mattress with a soft sigh.
Jian Ci returned with a basin of tepid water and a clean towel. He knelt again, wringing the cloth out. He started with Yu Xi's face, wiping his forehead, his temples, then the elegant line of his jaw.
