Fortunately, by midnight, Chen Jiao's fever finally broke. Zong Qi, at last able to relax, leaned back against the nightstand with an elbow on the edge of the bed and drifted off to sleep.
The high fever left Chen Jiao's mouth completely dry. By the time she regained consciousness, it was the early hours of the morning. Outside, everything was quiet, as if the world itself had fallen silent.
Chen Jiao turned her head slightly. 'From this angle,' she thought, 'Zong Qi is actually quite handsome.' It wasn't the pretty-boy kind of handsome, but a cool, rugged handsomeness with very defined features.
After staring at Zong Qi for a few seconds, Chen Jiao blinked. She didn't want to wake him, so she slowly sat up. But the slightest movement roused him. Zong Qi immediately helped her sit up straight, his voice filled with concern. "Do you want some water? This glass has gone cold. I'll get you a fresh one."
Chen Jiao rubbed her stomach. "I'm hungry, and thirsty too."
