Quick Transmigration: Only You Are the Desire of My Heart

"I can't take it anymore, I'm going back to sleep." Su Xiran yawned sleepily, her eyes almost closed. "I'm so sleepy."

"Then, Xiaoyin, could you please take this to Mochen? You two live nearby." As soon as they arrived at the apartment, Manager Huang handed over the thermos he had been carrying, saying with a smile.

Upon hearing this, Song Qingyin did not accept it immediately, but paused for a moment, hesitating.

“We can have Jiang Yingdi…” Song Qingyin said, glancing back, only to see Jiang Ran pulling Su Xiran away as they disappeared around the corner of the stairs, “…send them over there.”

She stammered out the rest of her sentence. Then, seeing the shop manager shoving the item into her hands without a word, and the others heading back to their rooms, Song Qingyin understood everything.

They probably wanted to ease the tension between her and Wen Mochen.

"It's good to talk things out." Manager Huang patted Song Qingyin on the shoulder, smiled meaningfully, and then turned and went back to his room.

Only Song Qingyin remained standing in the living room, clutching the thermos she was carrying, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. After a long while, she seemed to have made up her mind before going upstairs.

"Boom boom boom——"

A slow, deliberate knocking sounded at the door.

Wen Mochen opened his eyes, removed the fever-reducing patch from his forehead, coughed a few times, then lifted the blanket and went to open the door.

"coming."

Even through the door, Wen Mochen's voice wasn't clear, but one could still sense its weakness.

Song Qingyin waited quietly at the door, her gaze fixed on a single point, slightly lost in thought.

Some people, even if you haven't known them for very long, can leave a lasting impression. Meeting them felt like destiny.

A fleeting, unexpected glance stirred up a storm in her heart.

"Click——"

Amidst her chaotic thoughts, the click of the door opening drew her attention.

Because of the fever, Wen Mochen's face was slightly flushed, and his brows showed signs of fatigue. Perhaps because he had just been sleeping, his hair was a little messy, not as neat as usual, which added to his fragility.

Having suppressed his usual gentle demeanor, he now looked rather pitiful.

"Um, I made some porridge tonight, here you go—" Song Qingyin bit her lower lip awkwardly, wanting to hand him the insulated food container. But before she could finish speaking, she was interrupted.

"Come in." Seeing that the person who came in was Song Qingyin, a hint of surprise flashed in Wen Mochen's eyes, and he stepped aside to let her in.

"Oh!" Song Qingyin nodded subconsciously, and by the time she came to her senses, she had already entered the room. Wen Mochen followed behind and closed the door.

For some reason, Song Qingyin felt a little nervous. Her gaze darted around erratically.

Their rooms had the same layout: a bedroom plus a private bathroom. The space wasn't large, but Wen Mochen kept it very clean. Clothes were hung up neatly, and even daily necessities were arranged on the table according to height, spotless.

"Would you like some water?" Wen Mochen walked to the low table, picked up the kettle, poured a glass of water, and asked.

"Ah, no need." Song Qingyin shook her head repeatedly, somewhat reserved. She placed the insulated food container on the nearest table. "You're still sick, don't worry about me. You should rest well."

Then I opened the thermos, took out a small bowl, and ladled out a bowl of porridge. The milky white seafood porridge was still steaming, sticky and smooth, and looked incredibly appetizing.

"It's been cooking for two hours, eat some to replenish your energy." After serving the porridge, Song Qingyin held the small bowl and turned to hand it to Wen Mochen, but bumped into him.

Song Qingyin couldn't help but exclaim in surprise, as she was about to spill the porridge.

Wen Mochen quickly took the bowl with one hand and grabbed Song Qingyin's arm with the other to prevent her from falling.

"Hiss—" Having just narrowly escaped a crisis, Song Qingyin was still somewhat shaken when the stinging pain in her arm distracted her.

"What's wrong? Did you burn yourself somewhere?" Wen Mochen heard Song Qingyin gasp and immediately put the bowl aside, asking anxiously. His pupils constricted slightly when his gaze fell on the spot where Song Qingyin had just touched him.

"How did this happen?" Wen Mochen looked at the red and swollen skin on the inside of her arm, the glistening blisters standing out starkly against her fair skin. Moreover, due to the lack of treatment over a long period of time, it was even showing signs of ulceration.

"Maybe the oil splattered while I was cooking, and it burned me," Song Qingyin frowned, involuntarily gasping for breath. She had been busy and hadn't paid much attention, and now Wen Mochen had accidentally bumped into her, so her arm felt burning hot.

"Wait." Wen Mochen's voice was somewhat serious, but the worry in his tone was obvious, though Song Qingyin didn't notice it at the moment. He quickly walked to the bedside, took out a medicine box from the drawer, and then pulled Song Qingyin to sit down on the sofa next to him.

Looking at Song Qingyin's burns, he frowned and moved very carefully.

I used a cotton swab dipped in iodine to disinfect the area, then gently pricked the blister with tweezers. After the pus drained out, I applied burn ointment.

"Hiss—" The cold ointment stung the skin again upon contact.

Wen Mochen looked up at the person whose lips were turning white from biting them, and said gently, "Bear with it." As he spoke, he gently blew on her to ease her pain.

Looking at the earnest person in front of her, Song Qingyin felt a slight stirring in her heart. She felt the pain in her arm gradually disappear, replaced by a cool sensation.

"How could you be so careless?" After applying the ointment, Wen Mochen couldn't help but sigh softly. "Don't get the wound wet for the next few days, or it will leave a scar."

"Girls should take better care of themselves."

"Thank you!" Song Qingyin said softly, pinching her slightly burning earlobe, her feelings a bit complicated.

"Hmm." Wen Mochen put the used ointment back in its place and responded almost inaudibly.

A long silence followed between the two.

At this point, Song Qingyin should have said goodbye, but she had too many questions to ask and didn't know how to start. While she was hesitating, she heard Wen Mochen say something.

"Are you... angry?" His tone was uncertain and hesitant.

"What are you angry about?" In an instant, Song Qingyin composed herself, calmly looked up at him, as if waiting for his answer, or as if she already knew what he was going to say next.

“Because of that day…” Wen Mochen hesitated, unsure how to begin. He didn’t know why he had asked such a question; he could simply pretend nothing had happened. He figured she probably wouldn’t want to bring up that day again.

Given her pride, being rejected probably made her feel more embarrassed than sad!

"Because you rejected me." Song Qingyin finished speaking his unfinished question, her expression unchanged, her calmness making him feel uneasy.