"Of course it's your Lyra!"
Lyra's voice was filled with grievances.
Morris Jackson saw her small mouth turned red and her body burning hot, so he pressed his forehead against hers for an intimate touch.
As the scorching temperature reached him, Morris furrowed his brows.
He asked, "Do you know you have a fever?"
Lyra nodded, "Just a little fever, it's not too serious."
"Your body is burning like this, and you call it 'not too serious'?!" He held her as if she was a small furnace.
Lyra touched her forehead and sighed, "It's just gotten a little hotter now, but I still feel fine."
He wiped her cheek with his fingertip and then picked her up in a horizontal carry.
The sudden feeling of weightlessness made Lyra panic, and she wrapped her hands around his neck. "Uncle, where are we going?"
He said, "To the hospital."
Lyra looked at the wall clock, "But it's so late now."
She added, "I've always been healthy. Maybe I'll get better after a good night's sleep."
