However, when he opened the empty room, he saw the mortal woman lying in her sleeping bag, curled up in a ball like a silkworm's cocoon. When he saw her face, flushed from the fever and pained even in her sleep, his heart clenched.
He carried her back to the suite, laid her gently on the bed, and freed her from the sleeping bag. Shivering uncontrollably from the cold, she instinctively pressed against him, desperate to soak up his warmth. Yet her body was like a red-hot coal doused with water—damp and alarmingly hot. She twisted and struggled, as if trying to break free from the shackles of her illness.
'If I'd been a moment later, would she have died from this fever?' Bei Mingyuan's heart ached. 'Would it damage her brain and make her forget me? Would it burn out her optic nerves so she could never see me again?'
Humans were just so fragile. Any little problem could kill them in an instant. But she… she was different. He wanted her to live, and live well.
