Wen Sheng's eyes were sore and a bit foggy.
She bit her lip involuntarily, looking down at Fu Yanlin who was sleeping heavily in her arms. The sweat on his forehead was constant and dense. His face was flushed red, his pointed chin was covered in stubble, and his handsome face had an air of suffering. He must be feeling awful from the fever, for his brows were furrowed and his eyes closed, showing pain on his face.
Wen Sheng composed herself, focusing only on helping him remove his wet clothes and pants, including his underwear.
Without any constraints, the countless wounds on his body became more shocking, revealing all that was hidden.
Wen Sheng changed his medicine, covered his wounds with fresh gauze, and clothed him in fresh and clean clothes.
By the next dawn, she had changed his clothes three or four times.
But Fu Yanlin's fever didn't subside. Instead, his body temperature spiked to forty-one degrees, and he was burning like a volcano, almost cooked by his own heat.
