At that moment, she seemed to suddenly understand why Shang Yu couldn’t stay calm when he saw injuries on her.
He couldn’t bear to see himself injured, and as it turned out, she felt the same.
Because they cared, they didn’t want to see any harm come to each other.
Even a fever could cause worry and anxiety.
Li Qiao curled her fingertips, her cheeks slightly taut, then reached out again to touch his smooth forehead, raising an eyebrow, "Take a temperature?"
Seeing her insistent look, Shang Yu, with a smile, stood up, put his arm around her shoulder, and walked to the living room, "Okay."
A few minutes later, Li Qiao looked at the temperature on the thermometer, and sure enough, he had a fever.
She handed the thermometer to Shang Yu, her expression faint, "38.2 degrees."
The man glanced at it casually, took the thermometer, and placed it on the coffee table.
Then, with his warm palm, he pinched Li Qiao’s forearm and gently pulled her to his side.
Shang Yu looked at her sullen eyes and lips, a hidden smile on his lips, "Worried?"
Li Qiao, leaning on the man’s shoulder and staring at him, said straightforwardly, "Lie down for a while, wait until the fever subsides, then go to the office."
She was indeed a bit worried, the rain last night was heavy, and after returning to the Mansion, he apparently hadn’t drunk the ginger tea.
At that moment, Shang Yu, leaning back on the sofa with his arm around her shoulder and his forearm resting on his forehead, glanced at her lazily with a side glance, pondering for a few seconds, "Okay, I’ll listen to my girlfriend."
This title made Li Qiao’s still expression momentarily startled, she hurriedly glanced at him, turned her head, and secretly curled her lips.
Girlfriend... that wasn’t a bad title.
This was Li Qiao’s first time entering Shang Yu’s private space.
Unlike the noble and cool luxury downstairs, the style of his bedroom was suffused with a sense of blackness to the extreme, a gloomy oppression.
Even though the floor-to-ceiling windows offered great lighting, they still couldn’t warm up the room’s black and gold decor.
His bedroom was large and spacious with not much furniture – a lounge chair, a desk, a large bed, simple and practical but monotonously devoid of any sign of life.
Li Qiao glanced around briefly, placed the warm water on the bedside table, lowered the automatic curtains, and then urged Shang Yu to lie down.
Under Li Qiao’s gaze, the man walked towards the bed, casually undoing two buttons of his collar and sitting on the bedhead, lying back on the bed and reminding in a deep voice, "If you must go out, remember to have Luoyu accompany you."
Li Qiao stopped by the door, took a pause, and looking back, her gaze met Shang Yu’s across the void; she tilted her chin up, "I probably won’t go out before my boyfriend’s fever goes down."
Having said that, she left the room with a suppressed smile.
At eleven in the morning, Shang Yu came downstairs from the bedroom, looking much better after two hours of light sleep.
At that moment, Li Qiao was sitting in the living room chatting with Luoyu. Hearing footsteps, she turned and asked, "Feeling better?"
As she spoke, she picked up the thermometer from the table and walked towards him.
Luoyu discreetly turned and left the living room, leaving the space to the two of them.
At that time, Li Qiao stood in front of Shang Yu and checked the temperature on the thermometer: 36.8 degrees.
She relaxed her brow, relieved, "The fever’s gone."
Shang Yu looked at her intently without blinking, his fingers twirling at his side, then wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her back to take a seat on the sofa, asking in a deep voice, "You didn’t go out at all?"
Li Qiao put the thermometer back in the medicine box, shook her head, then turned to look at Shang Yu, "Master Yan, do you always get a fever after getting caught in the rain?"
She had just learned this piece of information from Luoyu’s mouth.