The moment Xiao Feng stepped into Liu Qing’s apartment carrying her, he was met with crumpled sketch papers and scattered clothes littering the floor—including quite a few intimate pieces. His brow furrowed slightly. *Why is Sister Qing’s place such a pigsty today? Is it because she’s sick?*

Thoughts aside, he wasted no time. Carefully navigating the mess, he carried her swiftly into her bedroom.

Unlike the chaotic living room, Liu Qing’s room was clean and tidy—simple decor, yet warmly inviting. Breathing in her faint, familiar scent, Xiao Feng gently laid her onto the soft, spacious bed.

Earlier, in the dim hallway, he’d only noticed she was in pajamas when she opened the door. Now, he saw clearly: white sleepwear thin as cicada wings.

Nothing unusual—summer pajamas *should* be light and breathable. But it was sweltering, she was feverish, drenched in a light sheen of sweat. The damp fabric clung to her skin, forming a tantalizing silhouette. Xiao Feng swallowed hard. Thankfully, she wore undergarments beneath. Otherwise… he wouldn’t have known what to do.

“Sister Qing, change into something dry first. I’ll take you to the doctor soon,” he said softly.

Eyes closed, Liu Qing let out a weak “Mm-hmm.” Then, right before Xiao Feng’s utterly bewildered gaze, she began undressing—as if he weren’t even there.

He stayed silent. Speaking up would only cause mutual embarrassment. Quietly, rationally, he tiptoed out and pulled the door shut.

Though Xiao Feng had seen plenty in fiction, witnessing a stunning, mature beauty casually undress in real life? A first. Shyness and nerves flickered—he was still an inexperienced boy. Truthfully, he *was* curious about what might follow… but after just two stolen glances, guilt washed over him. The rest? Pure imagination.

That faint creak of the closing door jolted Liu Qing awake. *Xiao Feng was just in here… and I undressed in front of him?!* Her face burned hotter. Already flushed from fever, her cheeks now glowed like a ripe, juicy apple—so vividly red one might ache to take a gentle bite.

Outside, Xiao Feng stood still, listening to the rustling of fabric. A tiny pang of regret for missing “Victoria’s Secret” flickered… then vanished. *Sister Qing’s always been kind. Taking advantage of her like that? Unforgivable.*

Just as he chastised himself for impure thoughts, a soft, weak voice drifted out:

“Xiao Feng~”

He snapped to attention. “Sister Qing, dressed? Ready to go see the doctor?”

A soft “Mm-hmm.” Before he could move, she opened the door.

She now wore loose sportswear, hair tied in a neat bun—less alluring than usual, refreshingly crisp, yet her frailty tugged at his heart.

“Your face is redder. Fever worse? Let’s go!” he urged, eyes fixed on her flushed cheeks.

She shook her head gently, lifting hazy eyes to his. “You’re still so heartwarming, Xiao Feng… What should I do? I feel like I’m starting to fall for you…”

Xiao Feng sighed. “Even sick, you tease me. Some habits never change.”

Still… a tiny, inexplicable warmth bloomed in his chest. Hard not to feel *something* when a beautiful woman says that.

“Alright, let me support you. Delay medicine much longer, and your brain might fry!” He reached for her.

She twisted away, pouting. “I’m a patient! No strength left! Are you in love with someone else? Don’t love Sister anymore?”

Xiao Feng went silent. *Sounds like I’m cheating. Even if I were… we’re not even *that* close.*

If she weren’t genuinely feverish, he’d have walked away.

“Tease me once more,” he said helplessly, “and I really will leave you be.”

She grabbed his arm, resting her head against it like a spoiled child. “No! Sister wants Xiao Feng to carry her on his back!”

He sighed deeply, crouching down. “Hurry. At this rate, I’m convinced the fever’s fried your brain.”

Liu Qing smiled—a soft, happy curve of her lips. She leaned gently against his back: not broad, yet radiating quiet, steadfast security.