Fu Nancheng gently opened his eyes, looked at the woman in his arms whose face was flushed, and his gaze gradually softened yet carried an indescribable complexity.
Qiao Mo only felt exceptionally warm, and instinctively snuggled closer to his chest, tightly curled in his embrace.
He reached out to check her forehead, and his brows furrowed again.
It seemed like the fever that had subsided was flaring up again.
He wanted to get up to fetch a thermometer, but as soon as he moved his arm from around her, she felt colder, softly whimpered with a touch of discontent, and randomly reached to grasp his large hand.
Fu Nancheng had no choice but to wrap the blanket more tightly around her.
Thinking that she had taken medicine less than two hours ago, even if she was feverish, she couldn't take more.
It might be better to wait until she woke up to see.
With that thought, he closed his eyes as well.
