Chapter 31: Ethan

"Mr. Li..."

Ethan entered the room, only to freeze in place.

Lillie Bai—the ever-composed, ever-dignified Ice Goddess—was sprawled on the carpeted floor, her long hair in disarray, her cheeks flushed a deep red from fever.

Her half-lidded eyes met his, and she lifted a weak hand to gesture at her—

Ethan's brain short-circuited.

Her shirt was unbuttoned.

Not completely, but enough to reveal a sinful amount of skin. Enough to send his thoughts into absolute chaos.

"I need help…" she muttered hazily.

Ethan's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

Why? Why is she making this so difficult for me?

His hands clenched at his sides, his entire body stiff as he struggled to tear his gaze away from the enticing view.

Lillie tilted her head slightly, an innocent look on her face.

Cute. Too cute.

Ethan inhaled sharply before hesitantly kneeling beside her. He reached for the edges of her shirt with trembling fingers, carefully pinching the fabric to avoid making any contact with her skin.

Lillie watched him attentively as he started buttoning her shirt, as if this were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"You're really good at buttoning shirts," she suddenly blurted out.

Ethan exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to focus. "Because I always wear shirts."

Lillie hummed thoughtfully. "Elliot has lots of shirts too."

The movement of Ethan's hands stilled.

"…Really?" His voice dropped dangerously. "How many?"

"Lots!" Lillie chirped, her fever making her unusually talkative. "I always buy him shirts on his birthday, Christmas, and New Year."

Hoh…

A dangerous glint flashed through Ethan's eyes as he resumed buttoning her shirt with slow, deliberate movements, masking the simmering jealousy burning inside him.

Lillie blinked at his frosty expression before giggling.

Ethan looked up, startled.

Her soft, breathy laughter sent an unexpected warmth through his chest.

Then she did something that made his entire system malfunction.

"You're really handsome, Mr. Li~" she purred, her voice sultry and sweet.

Ethan's mind short-circuited for the second time that night.

He stumbled back, staring at her in utter disbelief.

Is this woman really sick or just drunk?!

Lillie, however, had no intention of letting him escape. She slowly crawled toward him, her movements languid, feline-like.

"Mr. Li…" she whispered, her lips curving into a playful smirk. "I feel so hot…"

Ethan's entire body tensed.

"…Would you mind taking this off for me?" she teased, fingers toying with the edges of her shirt.

His pulse skyrocketed.

Lillie's feverish, mischievous gaze locked onto his, her body swaying as she leaned closer.

"Or…" she drawled, trailing her fingers up his chest, "…do you want me to take yours off instead?"

A shudder ran down his spine as her soft body pressed against him.

Ethan was officially in danger.

His brain was screaming at him to push her away. Resist, you fool! This is not the right time!

But his traitorous body was frozen, paralyzed under the assault of her intoxicating scent and warmth.

Then, as if to deliver the final blow, Lillie leaned into his ear, her breath tickling his skin.

"Don't worry…" she whispered huskily. "I'll buy you lots of shirts too."

Ethan nearly blacked out.

Then—

"Won't you serve this Emperor tonight, beloved Empress?"

Ethan's self-control snapped.

With a sudden burst of energy, he pushed her off.

"Owie~" Lillie whined, pouting at him like a spoiled kitten.

Ethan wasn't taking chances.

Before she could pounce on him again, he grabbed her, threw her over his shoulder like a sack of rice, and dropped her onto the bed.

"Woah!" she yelped.

Without hesitation, Ethan grabbed the blanket, wrapped it tightly around her like a burrito, and—somehow—produced a rope from seemingly nowhere, securing her in place.

He stepped back, hands on his hips, admiring his handiwork.

Tadaa~ A Lillie burrito, made by the amazing Chef Ethan Li.

Lillie thrashed wildly, her muffled shouts of frustration only making the situation funnier.

"Let go! Let go of me! How dare you tie Zhen up?!"

Ethan sighed, running a hand down his face before slumping against the bed.

It was amusing to see this rare side of Lillie, but he wasn't about to take advantage of her while she was like this. Fever or not, she wasn't in her right mind.

Eventually, the bed stopped shaking.

Ethan turned his head to check on her.

Lillie was panting heavily, sweat beading on her forehead. Her face was still flushed, her breathing ragged.

His amusement faded.

Climbing onto the bed, he gently placed his cool hand against her forehead—and immediately flinched at the heat radiating off her skin.

Dammit.

"You're burning up," he muttered.

Lillie groaned softly, shifting uncomfortably under the blanket burrito.

"I'll get some medicine for you," Ethan said firmly, standing up. "Stay put and behave."

As he turned to leave—

A soft voice stopped him.

"…Ethan…"

His breath hitched.

Slowly, he turned back to her.

She was half-conscious now, her feverish gaze hazy but filled with something unreadable.

His heart clenched.

For a moment, the teasing, mischievous vixen was gone.

For a moment, she was just Lillie.

The woman he had loved for years.

Swallowing hard, Ethan forced his voice to stay steady.

"I'll be back soon."

And with that, he walked out, leaving behind the one woman who could unravel him completely.

—

Ethan's eyes flew open.

He stared at the ceiling, his heart still pounding wildly in his chest.

A dream.

It was a dream.

Exhaling sharply, he covered his face with one hand, his body still burning from the memory of Lillie's fevered touch.

Damn it.

"…What the hell was that?" he muttered, rubbing his face with both hands.

Even his subconscious was torturing him now.

Lillie Bai would never act like that. Ever.

He turned to glance at the real Lillie, who was still fast asleep on the bed, her fever finally cooling down.

She looked so peaceful.

So innocent.

Nothing like the mischievous vixen from his dream.

Frustrated, Ethan threw himself back against the pillows, glaring at the ceiling.

Of all the things his fevered brain could have conjured, why that?

He groaned softly. 

I'm never going to survive at this rate.