Fu Cheng: ...
Fu Cheng struggled to control himself, but some physical reactions couldn't be wished away so easily.
The man's gaze was flustered as he looked away, even losing his appetite.
Shen Lu's expression turned grave. "You've even lost your appetite? You must be seriously ill. Good thing we have medicine at home. I'll give you some."
The young woman set down the bowl to look for medicine, muttering to herself.
"But the room temperature is perfectly comfortable. How could he have gotten a fever?"
"Could his wound have gotten worse?"
"No, I can't just give him random medicine. I need to figure out the exact symptoms first."
She turned back, moved the small table aside, and prepared to unwrap the gauze on Fu Cheng's body to see for herself.
Fu Cheng had no choice but to grab her hand and send her a message.
Fu Cheng: I'm fine. The wound hasn't gotten worse, and I'm not sick.
Shen Lu tilted her head, eyeing him suspiciously. "Really? Then why is your face so red?"
