Cheng Daqi was woken up by Sani's calling.
A familiar, unbearable soreness covered his whole body.
This feeling had never left him during the final moments of his previous life.
October in Saint Rodu was a bit presumptuous.
The temperature wasn't exactly low, but the sudden drop had made him sick.
"Chan, are you there?"
Sani's voice came from outside the tent, with a touch of urgency in her tone.
Usually, Cheng would leave a message for her when he left in the morning, but today he hadn't even said hello.
"I'm alright, might have caught a little cold, I'll get up soon. Is something the matter?"
The weakness brought on by the cold made Cheng's voice sound very feeble.
Hearing the familiar voice from inside the tent, Sani's hanging heart was released.
But the news of Cheng being sick again filled the girl with dread, she asked full of worry.
"Are you sick? How are you feeling?"
