'Will the little fatty be left a simpleton?'
'Impossible. How could someone who was bouncing with energy just the other day be reduced to this by a fever?'
He was filled with extreme remorse. 'That day, when Seventh Brother made his move… if only I could have stopped it, the little fatty wouldn't have gotten such a fright. It's all my fault. All my fault.'
By daybreak, after several hours, Ye Qianning's high fever had mostly subsided, but she still hadn't fully regained consciousness.
Old Master Zhan had written a prescription. Now that the fever had broken, the next step was to reduce the inflammation and prevent it from returning. She had to continue taking the herbal medicine without interruption.
Dean Chen had gone nearly two nights and a day without sleep. At over eighty years old, his eyes were sunken. He only began to relax slightly once Ye Qianning's temperature returned to normal.
