"So cold." Ye Xuan, in his daze, felt incredibly cold as if he were submerged in icy water at the bottom of an abyss, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.
Qing Zhu, also in a haze, seemed to hear a voice, and it startled her wide awake. Blinking and staring for a moment, realization dawned upon her. Could it be that the man was running a fever?
Qing Zhu didn't want to get up, but the intermittent mumbling from outside had her feeling resigned as she lit a lamp: Who are you really? Did I owe you something in my past life that you're tormenting me like this?
Qing Zhu grabbed a small stool and sat, looking at the man whose face was flushed red. She sighed, it was indeed a fever. This made sense - with so many open wounds and blood loss, how could there be no inflammation? Even though Qin Xue had provided some medicine, it had been exposed to air for too long. Without proper care and treatment, developing a fever was a normal response.
