First, then, love.

Looking at Shu Yao, whose face was flushed red from the fever and who was curled up in a ball, He Zheng felt as if his heart had been stabbed.

pain.

That fucking hurts.

Those burning angers that couldn't be contained on the training field, those turbulent jealousies churning in his mind.

The moment I saw her in this sickly state, everything shattered.

It shattered into pieces, completely overwhelmed by the panic that surged from the bottom of my heart.

He hasn't been back for three days, and this little drama queen has ruined herself into this half-dead state.

The silk pajamas were soaked with cold sweat, clinging tightly to her body and outlining her thin frame.

She's usually so delicate; she'd whine and cry for ages over the slightest scrape. But now she's curled up alone on the cold carpet, too weak to even call for help.

He Zheng took a deep breath, knelt on one knee on the carpet, and ran his large hand directly under her armpit and under her knee.

With a strong push.

He picked her up horizontally in his arms.

"Light as a cat," he muttered, his voice hoarse.

Shu Yao was delirious with fever. She felt someone touching her and instinctively tried to struggle.

"Don't touch me..." Her voice was barely audible, filled with strong resistance and grievance.

"Don't move."

He Zheng gave a low shout and pulled her tightly into his arms.

He strode towards the master bedroom.

The master bedroom light wasn't on, so he hooked the door shut with his foot and put her on the bed.

The movements were unexpectedly gentle, as if afraid of breaking her.

They pulled a thick silk quilt over her and wrapped her up tightly, leaving only her flushed face exposed.

He turned and went into the restroom.

I turned on the hot water tap, washed a towel with warm water, and wrung it out until it was half dry.

I walked back and sat on the edge of the bed.

He held a warm towel in his large hand and gently wiped away the cold sweat from her forehead and neck.

His movements were clumsy and awkward, but they revealed his utmost patience.

The towel wiped her furrowed brow and her chapped lips.

After wiping away his sweat, he got up and went to the living room to find the first-aid kit.

Find the fever-reducing patch and tear open the packaging.

With a "smack," it was pressed against her forehead.

The icy touch made Shu Yao twist her head uncomfortably.

"Don't move, it's to bring down your fever," He Zheng said, pressing his large hand on her shoulder. The pressure wasn't heavy, but it left no room for refusal.

He poured another glass of warm water and mixed it with fever reducer and ibuprofen.

He half-held her in his arms, letting her lean against his broad chest.

"Open your mouth and take your medicine."

Shu Yao kept her eyes closed and her jaw clenched, refusing to cooperate no matter what.

Menstrual cramps and a high fever left her in a state of irritability and resistance.

He Zheng was speechless.

He pinched her chin, forcing her to open her mouth.

I put the pill in her mouth and then held the glass of water to her lips.

"Swallow it."

Shu Yao choked a little, "Cough cough..."

The pill slid down his throat, and tears welled up in his eyes, a result of his own reason.

He Zheng put down his water glass, took a tissue, and wiped away the medicine and tears from the corner of her mouth.

He tucked her back into bed.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his tall figure casting a heavy shadow on the floor.

His dark eyes stared at the pale face on the bed, his fingers unconsciously stroking the fabric on her thigh.

I was terrified.

If he doesn't come back tonight, if he's still struggling with his own anger.

Is she just going to burn to death, or die in agony, all alone in this empty house?

He Zheng stayed by the bedside all night.

I changed the warm water three times and the fever-reducing patch twice.

It wasn't until dawn that the high temperature on Shu Yao's body gradually subsided.

His breathing became steady, and his furrowed brows relaxed.

10:00 AM.

The winter sun shone through the gaps in the curtains and onto the carpet.

Shu Yao's long eyelashes trembled, and she slowly opened her eyes.

My eyelids felt as heavy as lead, my eyes were dry and swollen, and looked like two walnuts.

My vision is a little blurry.

She blinked, adjusting to the light.

The first thing I saw was the man sitting in the chair by the bed.

He Zheng leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a layer of dark stubble on his chin, looking very dejected.

His eyes were tightly closed, and there was a large, horrifying dark circle under them.

He was asleep, but his brows were still furrowed, giving off a sense of gloom.

Shu Yao was stunned.

My mind is still a bit foggy.

She remembers writhing in pain in the living room and the overwhelming cold.

Now, she lies in the warm master bedroom with a fever-reducing patch on her forehead.

There was still a faint bitter taste in my mouth.

He's back.

He took care of her all night.

Shu Yao's eyes instantly stung with tears.

I felt wronged, heartbroken, and there was also an inexplicable sense of dependence.

It surged up like a tide, instantly overwhelming all her defenses and pride.

She moved her arm and stretched her hand out from under the covers.

The slender, pale fingers paused in mid-air for a moment.

Then, gently, she took He Zheng's hand, which was resting on the edge of the bed.

The man had large hands, his palms covered in hard, thin calluses, and the backs of his hands were covered in blue veins.

It carried a coldness that didn't belong to him.

Shu Yao's fingers had just touched him.

He Zheng opened his eyes abruptly, as if he had been electrocuted.

He grabbed Shu Yao's hand with a strong grip.

His eyes instantly regained their cold sharpness.

But after seeing that the person in the bed was awake, the sharpness in his eyes instantly disappeared.

"I'm awake."

His voice was hoarse, and he tried to pull his hand back to touch her forehead.

"Let go, let me see if the fever has gone down."

Shu Yao didn't let go.

Not only did she not loosen her grip, but she held his hand tightly, her nails digging into the skin on the back of his hand.

Their hands were clasped tightly together.

Shu Yao's eyes were red and swollen, and tears fell like broken beads, large drops landing on the back of his hand.

Scalding hot.

She cried again.

She's more vulnerable when she's sick, and these past few days have been especially tough on her.

He Zheng's hand trembled from the burn, and his movements froze instantly.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, frowning. His tone was still harsh, but it betrayed his barely concealed panic.

"Where does it hurt? Does your stomach still hurt?"

He thought she was still feeling unwell due to her period, and instinctively reached out to rub her stomach.

Shu Yao shook her head.

She gripped his hand tightly, refusing to let him go.

Her peach blossom eyes, swollen like walnuts, were filled with undisguised grievances.

"He Zheng".

She spoke, her voice hoarse and dry from a cold.