In her dazed state, Nan Xian felt as if she was being manipulated the whole time.
There was a pair of large hands, with slightly rough fingertips and calluses on the palms from years of holding a pen. They carried a slightly cool temperature and kept causing trouble on her body.
It stroked her arm, brushed against her waist and abdomen, and then gradually moved downwards, gently kneading her thighs.
His movements resembled a massage, yet she sensed something was amiss.
Who is it?
Confusion and anxiety gradually brought Nan Xian back to her senses. She took a deep breath and slowly opened her heavy eyelids.
He Mingxiao bent over, his sleeves rolled up to his wrists, earnestly trying to cool down Nan Xian's fever.
His palms were icy cold, but his forehead was covered with a layer of sweat, with fine beads of sweat covering his temples.
Suddenly, he noticed a gaze coming from above, paused slightly, and looked up in surprise—
Nan Xian was looking at him with a complex and subtle expression. Her brows were strangely twisted, as if she were surprised and shy, and the tips of her ears were slightly red.
"What are you doing?
Her voice was still hoarse from weakness, and she could only utter one word before she could no longer continue.
Seeing this, He Mingxiao quickly took the nearly empty alcohol bottle and handed it to her, explaining, "I'm trying to lower your temperature physically. The doctor said you have a high fever, so I have to do this."
Nan Xian's mind was still a little hazy, and she couldn't muster the energy to think about the cause and effect of all this. Hearing the word "doctor" made her feel a little relieved, and then she closed her eyes wearily.
Oh well, let him touch me then. It's not like he hasn't touched me before...
He Mingxiao poured a glass of warm water, tested it himself first, and only brought the glass to her lips after confirming that the water temperature was suitable.
“Come on, be careful.” He spoke as gently as if he were talking to a newborn baby.
Nan Xian instinctively felt goosebumps rise all over her body. She lifted her eyelids and glanced at him, the question from last night flashing through her mind again—
Has He Mingxiao really changed a lot?
After drinking half a cup of warm water, she felt much better and gradually regained some energy.
"What time is it now?"
He helped her sit up and placed a pillow behind her back. "Don't worry about the program at 2 PM. I've taken care of everything. Just focus on getting better these next two days."
Nan Xian pursed her lips. "How did you—handle it?"
Two days may seem short, but for a variety show that is being filmed, every minute and second is precious. If a day is wasted, the production team will lose a lot of money.
He Mingxiao smiled and said casually, "We gave the production team a year's worth of promotion and trending topics."
Nan Xian felt a sharp throbbing in her temple.
Trending on social media for a year... Is this guy just burning through his money?
She took a deep breath to calm her shocked nerves, thought for a moment, and said, "It was my illness that delayed things, so I should pay for it. You—"
He Mingxiao interrupted her: "Have you forgotten that you are now an artist under the He Group? It's only right that I take care of you and help you solve your difficulties."
"You don't need to do this. I'll take responsibility for my own actions. I'll transfer the money to you."
Her tone was firm, and her action of transferring money via her phone was even more resolute.
So determined, it was as if he were about to carve an insurmountable trench between them with a knife.
He Mingxiao reached out and gently pressed down on her wrist, stopping her movement.
He lowered his eyes, sighed, and smiled bitterly: "Nanxian, don't reject me... There's so little I can do for you. Just consider me—a fool with too much money."
Nan Xian looked at him, opened her mouth, but had no rebuttal.
She remained silent for a moment, then put away her phone and didn't mention the transfer again.
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