He Jingyao’s fever spiked to 39 degrees.
As Zhixi looked at the number on the thermometer and then at the man lying in bed, her heart was filled with a mix of emotions.
He was so ill, and yet his first instinct was to be by her side, fearing that she would suffer the slightest harm or grievance.
Zhixi felt a slight sting in her nose. She leaned down and gently kissed the man’s burning forehead, then placed a cold, wet towel over it.
Xiaobao was lying on the other side of the bed, his worried little face all scrunched up: "Mommy, will Daddy die...?"
"Of course not," Zhixi said with a light laugh, picking up the little one from the bed, "Xiaobao, you shouldn’t talk about dying so casually."
Xiaobao’s eyes rounded, and he quickly covered his mouth.
"Could you wait outside for a bit? I’ll call you when Daddy wakes up," Zhixi patted his head, "Mommy is here to take care of Daddy, that’s enough."
Xiaobao obediently nodded his head.
Zhixi went out and handed Xiaobao to Li Bo.
"How is the young master?" Li Bo asked with concern.
"He hasn’t woken up yet, but the fever should subside after the IV drip is finished," Zhixi bit her lip, "Li Bo, prepare some porridge."
Li Bo nodded his head.
Zhixi returned to the bedside, her heart sour and tender as she watched the man in a deep slumber.
She held He Jingyao’s burning hand, her eyes reddening as she smiled at his sickly appearance.
"So you can get sick, too..." She brought He Jingyao’s hand to her lips and kissed it gently, "I thought you were invincible."
She buried her face in the palm of his hand, and suddenly tears began to fall.
In her memory, He Jingyao was always strong, always steering the course of action. It seemed nothing could ever trouble him. She was used to relying on him, but just now, she shockingly realized that he too could fall ill, that he too needed someone to lean on and to be cared for.
This realization did not diminish the strength he represented in her heart; instead, it made the man all the more real.
And yet what she could offer him was so little. Moreover, it was always at his expense. Then and now.
If it hadn’t been for her, he wouldn’t have come up against Zhuo Yuwei, bearing such immense pressure.
Thinking of this, Zhixi’s heart ached, and her tears flowed even more fiercely.
As if sensing her tears, He Jingyao stirred and opened his eyes.
The warm flow in his palm made him realize something.
"Zhixi?" he asked in a hoarse voice.
"Are you awake?" Zhixi hastily wiped her tears and gave a raspy laugh.
She picked up a cup of hot water from the bedside, helped him sit up, and brought it to his lips, "Drink some water quickly. Have you not eaten anything yet? I’m going to bring the porridge over."
"No need," He Jingyao took the cup and drank the hot water in one gulp, "This is enough." Official source is novelFɪre.net
His face was still very pale, but his gaze was as profound as ever; it seemed that illness did not affect his ability to think.
Zhixi took the empty cup from him and placed it on the bedside, her eyes filled with concern as she looked at him, "How do you feel now?"
"Why are you crying?" He lifted her chin and softly stroked her cheek, chuckling lowly, "It’s just a fever, I won’t be making you a widow."
He shouldn’t have mentioned it. With that comment, Zhixi’s tears became even more uncontrollable.
She buried herself in his embrace and said softly, "I’m sorry..."
"Hmm?" He chuckled lightly, stroking her hair, "What are you apologizing for when everything’s fine?"