That sleep was anything but restful. Cecilia felt alternately hot and cold, even though the lounge was kept warm by the heater.
She tried to remember—she was supposed to go home. But her body simply wouldn't wake up.
Again, she was swallowed by a deep, black dream. In the dream, she lay in a cramped little room.
Room wasn't the right word—it was more like the abandoned corner beneath Theodore Zane's family’s stairs.
Darkness. A wooden door. Pain sharp and throbbing through her body.
She’d been beaten. Her body ached all over: her hands, her legs, everywhere stung from the thin wooden switch.
It was a snowy winter, just the same. She wore only a flimsy layer of clothes, locked in that tiny cubby.
A small padlock dangled from the wooden door, but she was much too little, her hands much too weak to ever pry it open.
"Don’t…please don’t leave me here," she whispered in her tiny voice. But no one would come. Not tonight.
Tears streaked her cheeks; she knew she must be filthy from head to toe.
Her body was freezing, but her forehead was burning hot. She prayed—perhaps that "mother" might let her out.
Sometimes, after a particularly harsh beating, that woman would let her out for a little while.
……
The dream stretched on endlessly, without relief. Cecilia knew she was dreaming.
She tried to wake but couldn’t. Lucid moments flickered, weaving in and out of the nightmare.
Unable to breathe, unable to escape.
"Please… I’m begging you…"
"Let me out… please…"
When Fu Zhiyie came in, the little figure was curled up tightly on the sofa, clutching a small blanket with all her might. Her pale face was wet with tears, streaming down from her tightly closed eyes and soaking into her hair.
She murmured for help, caught in the grip of a nightmare.
"Baby… Cecilia…"
His breath caught. Rushing to her side, he carefully scooped her into his arms.
Bending down, he gently kissed away her tears. "Baby, don’t be afraid. It was only a dream, that’s all."
Her body was burning up in his arms. When he touched his forehead to hers, the blazing heat was unmistakable—a fever.
She recognized his familiar embrace, laced with a faint scent of wood. Confidence in his presence made her loosen her hold on the blanket, instinctively grabbing onto his shirt instead.
"Baby, I’m here. It’s just a dream, only a dream," Fu Zhiyie murmured softly for fear even a loud whisper would frighten her further.
Her long eyelashes, dark and heavy with tears, finally fluttered open beneath his gentle words.
Another teardrop fell. Cecilia clung to him desperately, still lost in the thick fog of her nightmare.
"Zhiyie…" she whispered without even realizing it, her voice far away.
Fu Zhiyie hugged her a little tighter and wrapped her up snugly with the small blanket. "I’m here. I’m right here, baby."
Anchored by his familiar voice, Cecilia choked back a sob and managed, "I had a nightmare…"
"I know. But it was just a dream, none of it’s real, baby."
She shook her head, and the tears came flooding out. "It’s not fake. I was so scared."
"Don’t be scared. No one will ever hurt you again. Not while I’m here."
His heart ached—if he could, he’d track down everyone who ever scared her, tie them up, and toss them in the sea.
Cecilia was still trembling. "Hold me. Hold me tighter."
"Okay, I’ll hold you tighter."
Afraid she was cold, Fu Zhiyie wrapped her in his own jacket, too.
He pressed his chin to her forehead, gently nuzzling her.
Cecilia curled up in his arms, comforted by the warmth of his neck and the subtle movement of his throat as he swallowed. Finally, she began to settle down.
"It was only a dream…" she croaked, her voice hoarse, as if trying to persuade herself not to be afraid.
"That’s right. Just a dream."
"Zhiyie… I want to go home."
"Okay. I’ll take you home."
"I miss Little Rice Cake and Mom, and Grandpa Rivers and Grandma Rivers, too."
"Mm, then let’s go to the old house—they’re all there."
"Okay…"
Her voice dwindled to a whisper as the fever overtook her again, lulling her back to sleep.
Fu Zhiyie gently bundled her up, covered her face with the blankets, and carried her outside.
Lao San hurried to start the car.
Fu Zhiyie carried her out the door, oblivious to the fact that he himself wore nothing but a thin shirt.
"Turn the heat up. We're going to the old house," he ordered, voice frigid with worry. The person in his arms trembled and clung to him even tighter.
He called the family doctor to wait for them at the old house, briefly explaining the situation.
When the car pulled into the courtyard, Grandpa Rivers and Grandma Rivers were already waiting anxiously by the door, worried sick about her sudden illness.
Fu Zhiyie carried Cecilia inside and called out to the elders, "Grandpa Rivers, Grandma Rivers."
"What’s happened? How did Cecilia suddenly develop a fever?"
Grandma Rivers followed Fu Zhiyie inside, eyes never leaving Cecilia.
"She just caught a chill, Grandma Rivers. Cecilia wanted to come home, and got a little clingy about it," he said, keeping his voice light and gentle. But the worry in his eyes was obvious.
"Alright, go on upstairs—the doctor is in. I’ll have Aunt Whitney make some soup."
"Okay."
Fu Zhiyie carried her up to her room and gently laid her on the bed. The room was warm and cozy.
The doctor finished a quick checkup—she was running a fever at 38°C, likely from catching cold on these snowy days after coming out from a heated room.
Knowing Cecilia’s medicine allergies, the doctor prescribed only safe herbal remedies.
He carefully explained the dosages, instructing Fu Zhiyie on how to help lower her fever. As long as her temperature dropped, there was no cause for alarm.
As the doctor was leaving, Ye Jing came upstairs. She took one look at her daughter and asked anxiously, "Is everything alright, Zhiyie? Do you need my help?"
Fu Zhiyie shook his head. "It’s okay, Mom. Go and get some rest—the doctor gave her medicine."
"Alright. If anything happens, just call for me. I’ll be downstairs."
"Okay."
"And leave Little Rice Cake downstairs for now. Don’t bring her up; in case it’s contagious."
"Mm."
Ye Jing saw the redness at the corners of Cecilia’s eyes and guessed she must have been crying. She didn’t know the reason, but worry began to knot up tight in her chest.
She took some rubbing alcohol and gently wiped behind Cecilia’s ears, along her wrists and palms. Fu Zhiyie dabbed her face, then put on a fever-cooling patch.
The girl on the bed looked so pitiful—if Fu Zhiyie ever stepped away, she would start whimpering quietly.
Even just fetching a towel, he had to jog back to her right away.
"Since when did our Cecilia become such a little rice cake—so clingy?"
As if she knew he was talking about her, the little one pouted in protest.
Afraid she’d cry, Fu Zhiyie quickly wrapped her little hand in his palm and soothed her. "Mm, I love how clingy you are. You’re my favorite when you’re like this."
"If you could cling to me every day, I’d never go to work. I’d just stay home and be with you all the time."
"How is our Cecilia so good, just like a little treasure? I want to carry you wherever I go."
He kept talking softly, his voice low and gentle…
Gradually, Cecilia’s breathing evened out, though her little hand still wouldn’t let go. Fu Zhiyie changed clothes and climbed into bed, holding her close in his arms.
He had no intention of sleeping. Staring at her pale little face, his brows furrowed with worry.
Why would she have such a nightmare? Especially after all this time…
Ever since they reconciled, in the past year, Cecilia hadn’t been like this—terrified, haunted by nightmares.
Did she run into someone? Get frightened?
He thought back carefully. She’d been at the gallery these last few days. Looks like it was time for Lao San to do a thorough check…