"Ha, how embarrassing~"
"Mom, you don't have to be so sour at home, the virus isn't dead yet and I'm about to die."
"Legs!" Yao Jiping glared at her son, lifting her head.
Xu Qingfan sheepishly drew his legs up onto the chair, to make it easier for her to mop that area.
When spring rivers warm the ducks know first; already in late December, rumors of an unknown virus spreading in Hong Kong were afoot.
Although the place he lived was only a little over eighty kilometers away from the epicenter of the outbreak, Xu Qingfan remembered that there had been no confirmed cases in Li Cheng District that year, so he didn't take it to heart.
Besides, he recalled that Hong Kong had effectively controlled the SARS virus by early April due to early use of traditional Chinese medicine— the ancient "Treatise on Febrile Diseases" really contained some wisdom.
