Xiaoxi barely had time to process what was happening. Ling Buyi, unconscious and limp in her arms, was burning up with a fever that Xiaoxi had never felt before. The heat from her body was alarming, and every breath Ling Buyi took was shallow and labored, a clear sign that her body was in deep distress.
"Come on, Sister Ling," Xiaoxi muttered under her breath, beads of sweat rolling down her own face as she struggled to keep her grip on Ling Buyi's limp form. "Please, hang in there."
Her heart pounded with fear as she half-carried, half-dragged Ling Buyi toward the door. She wasn't a large woman, and Ling Buyi's weight—though frail from months of neglect—was still too much for her to bear alone. But Xiaoxi had no choice. She couldn't leave her friend here, lying on the floor of this cruel household, where no one would help her.
