Chapter 118: Fever

Lu Yan closed the notebook and looked at his wife. "So you suspect that this woman is He Xiangcao, right?"

Shen Qingyi nodded, then shook her head. "She’s not He Xiangcao."

When she had just gone to confirm with Feng Erqiu, she realized she hadn’t made a mistake in the sketch. Feng Erqiu was quite surprised at how strikingly similar it was.

Lu Yan saw the disappointment on his wife’s face and felt a pang of sympathy. He spoke gently, "He Xiangcao’s hometown is Baxili Village, Nanyang Town, Honghe County. After marriage, she divorced and had no children. Later, she went to the capital with relatives to make a living and got a job as a general worker in our school cafeteria through recruitment."

"And Feng Erqiu’s husband, Liu Yong, is not from that place," he added.

Shen Qingyi was surprised. "You investigated He Xiangcao?"

"Yes."

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Shen Qingyi’s heart stirred slightly.

Lu Yan was silent for a moment. "About your father’s matter... can you wait a little longer?"

"How long?" Last time, when Lu Yan asked her to wait, she didn’t object. But now, with her father’s belongings being coveted by others, if the truth wasn’t cleared up soon, she wouldn’t be able to properly protect those items at the school.

These were her father’s lifelong efforts—she absolutely wouldn’t allow anyone to exploit them for profit.

"Can you trust me?" Lu Yan asked her.

Shen Qingyi looked into Lu Yan’s clear, bright eyes—like the moonlight—and quickly looked away.

She could trust Lu Yan with everything she had, but not with her father’s belongings. If her father had trusted Lu Yan completely, he would never have left the manuscript in her hands for six years.

Her mother had said that if the manuscript truly existed, even if she left the Zhao family, she could stand on equal footing with the Xia family. That manuscript must be an immense treasure.

Faced with such enormous temptation, no one could guarantee what might happen.

Lu Yan understood. They had only been rebuilding their relationship for just over two months, and his wife hadn’t even prepared to accept him fully as her husband again. How could she possibly trust him on such a critical matter?

Seeing his slightly downcast expression, Shen Qingyi comforted him, "It’s not that I don’t believe you; I just don’t want to wait too long. If it drags on, the witnesses might disappear. Like He Xiangcao—I don’t even know where to find her."

And her mother could change her mind at any moment.

"Do you remember what I told you before?" Lu Yan asked.

Shen Qingyi certainly remembered. "You said that any matter requires the right timing and going with the flow. Someone has already set the chessboard behind your father’s case."

Lu Yan nodded.

Lu Yan’s meaning was clear—he still insisted that she wait.

But what exactly was the right timing? Did her mother’s willingness to testify count? Did Xia Xiyue’s discovery of He Xiangcao’s whereabouts count?

Before parting, Shen Qingyi added, "Don’t worry about your father’s matter for now. Just focus on the work you have."

Lu Yan knew his wife had refused him again.

He, as a husband, was ultimately inadequate.

Shen Qingyi glanced at her watch, stood up, put the sketchbook back in the box, and said to Lu Yan, "Go get some sleep. Have you taken your medicine?"

"Not yet!"

Shen Qingyi turned to the table, poured him a cup of warm water, and handed it to him. "Take your medicine, then go to bed early. Don’t think about anything else."

She hoped Lu Yan’s health would improve soon.

He still coughed occasionally throughout the day.

Lu Yan took the cup from her hand, went to the bedroom, poured out two pills from the medicine box, swallowed them with a sip of water, and then lay down beside An’an.

In the middle of the night, Shen Qingyi, half-asleep, felt her body shaking slightly. Opening her eyes, she saw their son An’an crouched by the sofa.

"What’s wrong?" Shen Qingyi stroked his head.

An’an drooped his head, rubbed his sleepy eyes, and mumbled, "Dad’s burning up, and I can’t wake him up."

Shen Qingyi hurriedly got up, carried An’an to the sofa, let him lie down, tucked a blanket over him, patted his back, and said gently, "You stay here and sleep. Mom’s going to check on him."

"Will Dad be okay?" An’an asked worriedly.

"He’ll be fine. Sleep now, Mom’s here," Shen Qingyi said, then turned and walked into the bedroom.

She sat beside Lu Yan and reached out to touch his forehead, startled by the high temperature. He had been fine during the day.

Her heart clenched as she softly called twice, "Lu Yan! Lu Yan..."

There was no response from the man on the bed. Shen Qingyi quickly got up. Not daring to turn on the bright room light, she switched on the bathroom light instead. The light filtered through the door and glass, softly illuminating the room.

Returning to Lu Yan’s side, she saw him clearly.

His brow was furrowed uneasily, his cheeks flushed bright red, and his normally rosy lips were slightly parted, their redness glaringly vivid.

Shen Qingyi hurriedly turned and filled a basin with cool water from the bathroom, brought two towels back.

She soaked one towel, wrung it out, and gently placed it on Lu Yan’s forehead.

When An’an had a fever, the neck and underarms were key places to cool.

With that in mind, she didn’t hesitate to unbutton Lu Yan’s shirt.

When she reached the third button, her hand was suddenly grasped by a burning hot palm.

Shen Qingyi paused, speaking softly, "It’s me."

The hand immediately relaxed and dropped.

She continued unbuttoning, soon revealing his chest and abdomen.

This reminded her of the last time he and An’an had gone swimming by the river—the perfect proportions of his body, not exaggerated muscles, but lean and powerful.

She remembered how strong he seemed when he first came...

But now, he looked so weak.

Shen Qingyi shook her head, banishing such unseemly thoughts, silently scolding herself. He was sick now—what were you thinking?

She quickly pulled a thin blanket from nearby to cover his abdomen, wrung out another towel, and laid it on his neck.

Turning again, she fetched another towel from the bathroom to wipe his palms, ankles, and other areas.

After finishing, she touched his forehead again. The fever hadn’t subsided, but the redness on his face had lessened considerably. She took the towel from his forehead, wrung it out once more, and applied it again.

In a drowsy haze, Lu Yan felt a pair of cool, gentle hands stroking his forehead, cheeks, and ears, easing the heat from his body.

"Lu Yan!" Shen Qingyi softly called his slightly parted lips.

The man on the bed only twitched his eyelashes with little response.

Shen Qingyi gently stroked his face. The heat finally subsided a little. When her fingers brushed over his lips, she hesitated for a moment. His lips were full, perfectly shaped, the corners slightly upturned, now flushed a different shade of red—strikingly beautiful.

Recalling the panic and unexpected experience from yesterday, she was compelled by some strange impulse to lean down—just a fleeting touch—and the man on the bed responded.

"Qingyi!" Lu Yan croaked out her name.