"Are you... okay?"
As the man's voice rang in her ears, Wen Yiru was clutching the quilt tightly.
She felt so cold.
The heavy rain pelted against the tent, making a noise that almost split her head.
Fu Huaizhi was rather farsighted; when he noticed the rain approaching, he immediately found a high place to set up the tent.
Before pitching the tent, he laid a thick layer of dry grass underneath.
Yet, despite this, Wen Yiru still felt a faint dampness seep up from beneath her body.
Moreover, she hadn't bathed for several days.
Every night before bed, she'd use wet wipes to wipe her face, body, and feet.
Better than nothing, she thought.
At this moment, the rain poured down vigorously; if she weren't so cold, Wen Yiru would have run out for a while, using it as a bath.
Her mind swirled with thoughts. As the zipper opened and Fu Huaizhi's hand reached her forehead, holding her in his arms, Wen Yiru realized she had a fever.
