"Why hasn't her fever gone down yet?" Jian Yuming murmured, checking Jian Yiling's forehead again. She had been on the IV drip for quite some time, and despite the medication, her temperature remained alarmingly high.
The elderly matriarch shared his concern, feeling the weight of helplessness. No matter how much they worried, the medication would take time to work; reducing a fever was a gradual process.
Jian Yiling lay in a haze, feeling as if her body were leaden, and in her feverish state, she drifted into a nightmare. In her dream, she was the former Jian Yiling, gravely ill and lying on a hospital bed. She opened her contact list on her phone, only to find that there was no one she could reach out to. A profound realization washed over her: she felt she was on the brink of death but had no one to share her final words with.
Suddenly, she jolted awake, her surroundings resembling those from her troubling dream—a stark hospital room filled with the scent of antiseptics and the soft beeping of medical machines.
"Are you awake?" Jian Yuming's voice interrupted her thoughts, snapping her back to reality.
Turning her head, Jian Yiling saw her brother still clad in his pajamas, worry etched across his face. The elderly lady, her grandmother, who had been resting on the sofa in the corner, quickly stood up.
"How are you feeling, Xiao Guai?" she asked, approaching the bed with a mix of anxiety and concern.
It dawned on Jian Yiling that she was indeed sick. She had forgotten just how fragile her body was and how poorly it could handle stress and exhaustion.
"I'm fine," she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper, even more hoarse than usual.
"Fine? Clearly, you're not fine!" The old lady exclaimed, her heart aching for her granddaughter. "The doctor said you've been burning up for a while now. You must have felt terrible last night, and yet you didn't say anything!"
The old lady's guess was spot on. Last night, as Jian Yiling had been working late into the early hours, she had started feeling unwell. Not wanting to worry her family, she simply went to bed, hoping to sleep it off.
Jian Yiling didn't respond, but her silence confirmed her grandmother's suspicions.
Seeing the frail figure on the bed, the old lady felt tears welling up in her eyes. "You're driving me crazy! Why didn't you tell us you were feeling sick? I'm still young enough not to fear a little midnight fuss! Look at you now! You've been burning up for so long that you've developed gastroenteritis! From now on, just drink plain congee! You can't have any of the delicious food!"
With that, the old lady hurried to the door, calling out for the butler waiting in the hallway. "Get me some sweets—bring candied fruits, sugar, and snacks! Just pile them up!"
Jian Yiling turned her gaze back to Jian Yuming.
He looked at her with a mixture of amusement and concern. "I don't know how you eat; you're already this old, yet you're so light! Carrying you over here didn't even take much effort."
Jian Yiling looked at her brother, noticing his disheveled appearance. He was still in his pajamas and slippers, his hair a chaotic mess of gray and white, giving him an almost comical appearance. Clearly, he had rushed out of his room without bothering to change or comb his hair, and if anyone were to see him like this, it would definitely make for some scandalous headlines.
"Thank you…" Jian Yiling managed to say, her throat dry and raspy.
Jian Yuming smiled at her, a playful glint in his eyes. "Why are you thanking me? If you want to say thank you, then hurry up and get better! Look at your face—it's a mess!"
Realizing that perhaps his words were a bit harsh, he quickly added, "I mean, you look better when your cheeks are rosy. You're not... um, hideous right now either."
Knowing he lacked the skills to comfort a girl properly, he decided to revert to what he did best: "How about this? While you're stuck here getting your IV, I'll sing for you. I charge others for my singing, you know."
His lighthearted approach, along with his awkward charm, made Jian Yiling smile despite her discomfort. In that moment, the bond between them felt palpable, a reminder that no matter how sick she was, she was not alone. The warmth of family would always be a source of comfort, and as Jian Yuming began to hum a melody, she allowed herself to drift into a peaceful slumber, feeling a little less burdened by her illness.