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Xue Dongting flushed crimson. When she was talking with the widow she seemed to have called him “my hubby…”

When she didn’t answer, Song Yuming smiled gently. She saw him do it out of the corner of her eye, saw him relishing in it, so she jerked her shoulder trying to toss his big arm off. It didn’t work. She just had to curl her lips and take it.

When they got back home, Xue Dongting was having hot and cold flashes both. She felt like she was floating and just wanted to lay down and sleep.

Song Yuming saw how worn-out she looked and thought it was from all the effort she had exerted last night. “Go lay down and rest,” he urged.

Xue Dongting nodded and went in and went to bed. She felt chilly all over. A little while later, Song Yuming came in with a brazier, but she still kept shivering.

Song Yuming knit his slanting brows and felt her forehead. “You have a bit of a fever,” he said, worried.

She mumbled acknowledgment. She really did feel unwell. Must be from being so cold all night.

Song Yuming said nothing, just turned and left the room. Drifing in and out of consciousness, Xue Dongting caught the heavy scent of medicine. She lifted her eyelids in time to see Song Yuming enter carrying a bowl of medicinal soup. He helped her sit up and she heard him say, “Go on now, and drink this.”

Xue Dongting sniffed it and knew it was fever medicine. She took the bowl and drank. The soup was warm, but really bitter.

Song Yuming sighed. “Your forehead is burning. How can your body be so cold?”

Xue Dongting was quiet, feeling weak. She lay her head on his broad shoulder. She didn’t know what happened after that.

She slept deep into the night and when she woke she found herself wrapped tightly in Song Yuming’s arms. She was sweating and felt better, but she was still weak. Song Yuming slept, his breathing steady, his brows slightly knit. She looked at him and reflexively reached out to stroke his brow, but as soon as she was about to touch him she stopped short. There was a brief pause and then her hand drew back.

That soft hand of hers had been caught by a big, rough hand. Song Yuming’s eyes were open, looking at her, but he said nothing.

Xue Dongting coughed lightly, blushing. “You were faking!”

He smiled. “I was really asleep, but you woke me up.”

She blinked. “I don’t believe you. I barely moved, how did that wake you up?”

Just as she said this she was pulled in closer . He brushed his bluish stubble against her smooth forehead. It was scratchy and itchy. She wanted to turn away, but he head onto her head so she couldn’t.

Song Yuming looked at her, eyes smiling. “You’re not hot anymore. How did you recover so quickly?”

Her heart jumped. She felt his smile was somewhat lewd. She was no longer fevered, but she was still weak. “My head hurts,” she said softly. “I don’t have the energy.” She said this as pitifully as she could.

“Mm,” he said. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have taken you with me. Go on to sleep.” He held her tightly.

Her clothes were damp from her fevered sweats, but he was holding her tight. “I’m all sweaty,” she reminded him. “I’ll get your clothes damp…”

“Mm,” Song Yuming grunted. He didn’t loosen his grip. “It doesn’t matter,” he mumbled, eyes closed.

Xue Dongting looked at his weathered face, her heart twisted in knots.