Today, Lu Mian seemed rather unwell, and everyone noticed it.
She lay quietly on her desk, her reddened cheeks pressed against the cold surface, wearing only her flimsy school uniform. Among the students wrapped in sweaters and cotton-padded jackets, she looked particularly slender and frail.
Ding Cai came down and, seeing the abnormal flush on her cheeks and her thin clothing, grew anxious.
"Why are you dressed so lightly? Do you have a cold?"
Lu Mian, languid, lifted her eyelids a fraction, "No."
A clear attempt to gloss things over.
"Mian, your face is so red, do you have a fever?" Shouhao was almost pressing a mirror right in front of Lu Mian.
Ding Cai hurriedly reached out, pressing the back of his hand against Lu Mian's forehead, then compared it to his own, his expression changing dramatically.
"Lu Mian, you have a fever!"
And it was severe; her temperature was frighteningly high.
