Wen Mian was outside in the cold wind.
That night, when Wen Mian came out after her shower and wash, her hair was still damp.
A gust of cold wind swept over her, leaving her mind foggy.
The fatigue on her face became increasingly evident.
By midnight, Wen Mian felt a chill in her limbs, and her forehead started to burn with fever.
Pei Zhiyao, who was still working, quickly heard the nonsensical words Wen Mian was murmuring.
Realizing something was wrong with Wen Mian, Pei Zhiyao immediately went to her side.
In her groggy state, Wen Mian grabbed Pei Zhiyao's arm.
"Don't go."
Pei Zhiyao instinctively stopped in his tracks.
His expression softened as he looked at Wen Mian.
She tried to look at Pei Zhiyao, but her blurry vision could only make out his silhouette.
Unclear and indistinct.
It wasn't long before Pei Zhiyao's voice broke through the haze.
"Feeling unwell?"
Wen Mian didn't respond; instead, she curled up in Pei Zhiyao's embrace, her discomfort more apparent.