A/N: I AM SO FREAKING SORRY THAT I HAVE NOT UPDATED IN FREAKING FOREVER. I FINISHED WRITING THIS WEEKS AGO BUT FOR SOME REASON LACKED THE MOTIVATION TO POST IT UP. YOU ARE ALLOWED TO GET MAD AT ME IN THE COMMENTS. THAT IS ALL.

Okay not really. That's not all. I have to do the boring introduction.

Theme number fourteen - Sick. Pretty lame/common theme but one I had fun writing.

In her entire memory, Lan Fan could not remember once when she had been sick. Her Young Master had gotten sick many times before, but not once had she caught it.

So when she began feeling lightheaded and dizzy, Lan Fan simply waved it off as a side effect of the cold winter rain. Her throat had a slight burning sensation in it, but she had eaten a spicy lunch. Nothing more, she thought as she sat outside the Young Master's window. Nothing more.

There was a slight rustling, and the thick rice paper covering the window rolled up. "Lan Fan? Are you out there?"

"Young Master!" She stood up, and nearly fell back down from a sudden bout of dizziness. Again, probably the cold weather. Lan Fan slammed a hand on the wall to steady herself. Ling poked his head out, and shut his eyes when the rain shot towards his face. When he opened them again and saw her standing there, he looked surprised, and maybe a little bit horrified.

"So you were there. Come inside." He lifted the rice paper up more, until there was a human-sized gap between the paper and the window.

"Wha-" she protested. "Young Master, I need to stay outside to guard you."

"In this weather? You must be absolutely nuts. Get inside now Lan Fan. That's an order."

An order. She couldn't disobey him when those words came out of his mouth. Lan Fan silently leaped through the window and waited. Ling replaced the rice paper and turned to face her. "Lan Fan," he said in a slightly exasperated tone. "What am I going to do with you?"

She took a brief glance at herself. Her clothes were soaking wet, and to her horror the water was sliding off the metal on her armor and onto the floor of his bedroom.

"Young Master!" she cried out. "I am so sorry! Please forgive me!"

"Forgive you for what?" Ling dropped a soft, fluffy towel on her sodden hair. "Here, dry yourself before you catch a cold. Although you might have already, seeing that you were outside for so long."

"But…this is…!" She pulled the towel off her head. The fibers were soft, and made with the highest quality of cotton there was. It was clearly meant for a prince like him, not a commoner like her. "This is…"

"You really intend to get me in a bad mood, don't you?" Ling said in a cheerful voice. Suddenly his tone darkened. "Take off that mask, dry yourself with that towel, and sit down over there when you're done. I'll be getting you something hot. Don't even think of disobeying." He slipped out of the room and closed the door, leaving Lan Fan dripping water with a fluffy towel in her hand.

There was nothing she could do. It was, after all, an order. Grudgingly she removed her mask and began to dry herself, until the entire towel was a soaking mess.

Young Master is too kindhearted, she thought. But then, maybe it isn't a bad thing.

After she finished thinking of that, she sneezed.

It was exactly as Ling had predicted. Within the next day Lan Fan had woken up in bed with a raging fever. Fu felt her forehead, tsked, and found a cool washcloth for her. "I'll take care of the Young Master today," he said. "You stay here and rest so you can be better tomorrow."

Lan Fan could only give a slight moan. Her throat felt as if it had been scratched with sand, and she could barely breathe, for her nose had been plugged up. Her head hurt, and her muscles ached. It felt far worse than the end of a training session with Fu. In fact, she would have given anything to be able to stand up straight with a perfectly clear mind and fight. Lan Fan tried to sit up and she felt her head and strength drain; instantly she flopped back down onto her soft sleeping mat.

She gave up on trying to sit up and make a comeback. Instead, she curled up in her sheets and closed her eyes. I'll sleep for a little while. I'll feel better then.

It was the smell of food that woke Lan Fan up. She blinked sleepily, and turned over on her side. The washcloth fell off her forehead, and she picked it up, expecting it to be dried up and warm. Instead, it was cold and damp.

The scent of something reached her: chicken, salt, spices, and more. Her mouth watered, and she remembered that she hadn't eaten anything since the day before. The aroma was tantalizing.

"Grandfather?" she called.

"Who are you calling your grandfather?" Ling poked his head out of her kitchen, holding a spoon. "I'm almost done, so take it easy."

"Young Master!" she cried out, immediately sitting up. "What are you…ugh…" Lan Fan clamped her hand to her head, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over her. Her throat burned like fire from the simple action of speaking.

"Hey, I told you to take it easy!" She felt a hand gently but firmly push her back down onto the mat. "Don't do anything reckless, you idiot." Ling took the cloth that had fallen off her forehead, and replaced it. The cold water trickled down her head, and into her hair.

"Why…are you here?" she managed to rasp out.

Ling shook his head. "That doesn't matter. Here, I think it's done." He quickly strode over to her kitchen and came back with a bowl filled with rice porridge. Bits of preserved egg, salted vegetable, and chicken floated in the mass of hot rice. The young prince deftly mixed it up before spooning it up on a porcelain soupspoon. "I hate to make you sit back up right after I had you lie back down," he said, "but it's the only way you can eat this without choking."

Lan Fan unsteadily pulled herself up, and Ling placed a hand on her back, supporting her. "Here," he said. "That's fine.

"Now, eat." He held out the soupspoon, laden with the porridge. Steam rose from the thick mess, and he gently blew on it. Seeing her slightly mortified reaction, he quickly reassured, "It's not bad, I tried it myself while making it. I bet you haven't had anything to eat all day. Come on."

Lan Fan opened her mouth to say that the taste of the porridge hadn't been the issue, but chose to say something else instead. "Young Master," she murmured, trying not to strain her throat. "It is not proper for someone of your rank to…to act like this and feed me porridge…"

"To hell with properness," Ling immediately answered. "I don't care. You're sick, Lan Fan. Do you think I would care about that when one of my friends is sick? Eat it." When she opened her mouth to protest again, he swiftly slipped the spoon past her lips and into her mouth.

The mouthful was hot, but not burning, thanks to Ling's blowing. The flavors washed around her mouth, and she savored them. The porridge she had eaten in the past had always been plain rice and nothing more, unlike the flavorful mixture that was in her mouth right now. Did he make it himself? I didn't know the Young Master could cook…

"Is it good?" Ling held out another spoonful. Lan Fan accepted it this time, and let him spoon-feed her until the bowl was empty and her stomach was full.

"Thank you…" she whispered. "For the food."

"No problem," he smiled. He tousled her hair a little, and her cheeks flamed pink. From the fever, she thought. It's not…

Ling placed a hand on her shoulder and pressed her back downward. "Go and rest," he said. "I'll take care of everything else. You just get better, all right? Oh, right. Don't tell Fu I was here." He pulled the covers back over her and kissed her cheek. "Sleep well."

"Wait…" she started in embarrassment, but sleepiness was already clouding her mind. Soon she was dragged back under, where she dreamed of the Young Master and herself sitting together on a hill overlooking all of Xing.

It was the sun that woke her up. It slanted through the window slats and directly onto her face, making her face twitch in discomfort. Red seeped through her eyelids, and she rubbed at them with her hand, attempting to block it away. But it was to no avail; light still slipped through the cracks in her fingers. Lan Fan gave up and opened her eyes.

The light bathed parts of the room in a dark yellow, making the floor look more gold-colored than it really was. She glanced down at herself, and realized that her skin had stopped sweating, and she no longer felt so cold. Lan Fan lifted a hand to her forehead and touched her skin; it was no longer hot. Her fever had died down. Her throat was still raw, but it would probably take days to recover from that.

"You woke up." Fu came out of an adjoining room. "How do you feel?"

"Much better, Grandfather." She sat up and accepted the cup of water he held out to her. The drink was refreshing, and she set down the empty cup within seconds. Fu poured out more water.

"You must be hungry," he said. "Would you like something to eat? You haven't eaten all day."

"No," she said, surprising herself. "I'm not hungry." It wasn't a dream, then. Was it?

"Hmm. You're not?" Fu peered at her curiously, as if she was lying.

"No. I'm fine," she answered, shaking her head. "It's fine, Grandfather. You can eat without me."

"If you say so, then." He stood up and walked toward the kitchen, where she soon heard the noise of pots being moved and the sound of matches being struck to light the stove. Lan Fan sighed and slipped back under the sheets, intending to rest for a bit more.

"Something strange happened today," Fu remarked. Lan Fan's eyes snapped back open.

"What happened, Grandfather?"
He sighed. "It was the Young Master, disappearing again. It was probably around noon. He ran away from me for an hour or so and reappeared later in the royal garden, stating that he had been there the whole time. Of course he was lying—I had checked that place, and felt not a single wave of qi coming from it. Usually he disappears to his usual places, but I just couldn't find him today," the old man mused. Then he suddenly poked his head out of the kitchen, as if something had struck him. "Lan Fan," he said. "Did the Young Master come here? I believe it was the only place I didn't check."

Don't tell Fu I was here. She shook her head. "No," she said. "He didn't."

"Hm. Well, in that case, I suppose I should just brush off that disappearance as nothing. Master Ling probably vanished off to the town, but we'll never know. Hm. Then, you should go and rest, Lan Fan. I want you up and ready to go by tomorrow."

She smiled. "I will be, Grandfather. Don't worry about it. I'll be perfectly fine. Tomorrow, I'll be able to protect the Young Master again."

"Good." Fu disappeared back into the kitchen, and she heard the sound of chopsticks clinking against china. Lan Fan closed her eyes again, and snuggled back into her sheets. Yes, tomorrow. Tomorrow, I'll be back with him.

Lame Ending Much? :'D

Words: 1,990

Additional Notes: None

Reviews are love :]