Qin Shuang was startled by him.
She fumbled to snatch her phone back.
"What's wrong?" He Zhiyao lowered his gaze, looking at Qin Shuang with confusion.
Qin Shuang, feeling guilty, flipped the phone over and asked him, "Why are you up? Is your fever gone?"
He Zhiyao bent down and came closer: "Let me see?"
Qin Shuang's hand was on his forehead.
It didn't feel as hot anymore.
She casually pushed He Zhiyao's head away: "It's good that the fever is gone, it's getting late, you should go back to sleep."
He Zhiyao, with one hand on the back of the chair and the other on the table, leaned in closer to Qin Shuang's face.
Qin Shuang backed away, pressing against the back of the chair: "What are you doing?"
He Zhiyao said, "Get up."
Qin Shuang, holding the phone on the table, stood up.
He Zhiyao, with a long stride, sat on the chair, then caught Qin Shuang's wrist and gently pulled her into his embrace.
