"Meng Wu... Meng Wu... The eldest master is caught in the rain, come out and carry him back to the house." Qingying stood in the front hall and called several times, but no one answered.

When she came back just now, the farm was dark and there was no candlelight. It seemed that Meng Wu was not at home.

The rain outside was still heavy. Maybe Meng Wu was also trapped outside. Qingying didn't expect him to come back to save the situation.

Pushing Meng Zhao back into the bedroom, Qingying took off his wet clothes and threw them on the ground.

Meng Zhao fell asleep at some point. He closed his eyes, leaned back in the wheelchair, and murmured, "It's cold, so cold."

Qingying reached out and touched his forehead. The temperature to her touch was boiling hot, like a burning fire.

What she feared had happened. Meng Zhao really got sick from the rain.

This was in the suburbs. It was raining heavily and Meng Wu was not here. She had sprained her foot again. Where could she find a doctor?

Qingying was so anxious that she was about to cry. Meng Zhao must not get into any mishap. Before leaving, she had promised her wife that she would take good care of the eldest son.

But now, he had gotten sick from taking such good care of him.

Meng Zhao sat naked in a wheelchair, feeling extremely uncomfortable. Qingying wanted to move him to a large bed with bedding, which would be warmer.

Meng Zhao was of strong build, more than eight feet tall and weighing more than one hundred pounds. Qingying, a delicate and skinny woman, could not move him at all.

But she did not give up. She gritted her teeth and endured the piercing pain from her ankles. She grabbed Meng Zhao's two upper arms from under her armpits, moved his whole body weight to her slender back, and moved to the bed with difficulty.

With a "thump", because Meng Zhao was too heavy, Qingying couldn't bear it and knelt directly on the ground.

"Um..." She frowned and groaned slightly in pain. Her knees, which were broken and bleeding, were hit by the hard floor and it hurt a little.

Qingying gasped in pain, paused for a moment, and waited for the pain to subside a little before continuing to carry Meng Zhao forward. It took a lot of effort to finally get him on the bed.

Qingying covered Meng Zhao with a thick blanket. She took a quick breath and had no time to rest. She immediately turned around and brought a basin of cold water.

Since she couldn't find a doctor, she could only use cold compress to help Meng Zhao cool down.

Qingying soaked the bath towel in cold water, took it out and shrugged it dry, then folded it into strips and applied it to Meng Zhao's hot forehead.

After a while, when the coldness on the bath towel subsided, she dipped it in cold water again and applied it to Meng Zhao again.

After two quarters of an hour, the temperature on Meng Zhao's forehead dropped by more than half, leaving only a slight burning sensation.

When Qingying was about to breathe a sigh of relief, Meng Zhao suddenly groaned in pain.

His face was frighteningly pale, cold sweat kept pouring out of the tip of his nose, his body curled up into a ball, shaking constantly, as if he was in great pain.

"Young Master, Young Master, what's wrong with you?" Qingying asked worriedly.

Meng Zhao was breathing heavily, he raised his hand to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead, his ten fingers tightly grasped the bedding under him, and a few words jumped out from his clenched teeth: "My legs hurt, my knees hurt."

The pain was not much lighter than when he fell off the horse and fell down the hillside.

"Legs hurt?" Qingying muttered softly, and reacted belatedly.

Meng Zhao's old illness recurred.

He was caught in a cold rainstorm all day today. It was autumn, the weather turned cooler, and the cold air invaded.

When he broke his leg, it was the knee joint that was injured.

It must be that these two crippled legs could not withstand the cold, so they started to hurt.

Now there is no doctor to be found, and there is no medicine, so we can only give Meng Zhao hot compresses.

Qingying dragged her aching left leg to the kitchen to light a fire and boil water.

A quarter of an hour later, she returned to the bed with half a bucket of steaming boiling water, took two bath towels and soaked them in the bucket for a while, then pulled them out, twisted them half dry, folded them into strips, and applied them to Meng Zhao's knees.

While giving Meng Zhao hot compresses, she gently massaged his legs to help him activate his meridians and dredge his blood circulation, hoping that this would relieve his pain.

The bath towel was changed again and again, and the water in the wooden barrel became hot and then cold, and then hot and then cold. Qingying couldn't remember how many times she had added firewood.

When she was so tired and sore that she no longer had the strength to change a new bucket of hot water, Meng Zhao's frown finally relaxed.

He closed his eyes and slept quietly. His body was no longer curled up, and his mouth no longer uttered painful groans.

Qingying stretched out her little hand and touched his forehead. His body temperature was normal and he didn't have a fever.

She lowered her eyes and saw that his legs were straightened. He should not be in pain anymore.

Qingying breathed a sigh of relief, and her tense nerves finally relaxed.

Her head felt a little dizzy and swollen. After tucking the quilt for Meng Zhao, she could no longer hold on and fell asleep on the side of the bed.

*

"Young Master, Young Master..."

Meng Zhao was half asleep and half awake when he heard a soft female voice calling him. He

slowly opened his eyes and saw Qingying lying on the side of the bed guarding him, her soft little hands tightly holding his broad palm.

She closed her eyes and slept very uneasily. A worried look appeared on her pale face. She kept murmuring, "Young Master, does your leg still hurt? Are you uncomfortable? I didn't mean it..."

Meng Zhao recalled everything briefly.

He remembered how hard Aoying pushed him back, and even though she stumbled along the way, she never complained.

He didn't fall asleep completely just now, and he could feel Aoying busying himself with cold compresses, hot compresses, and massage.

Except for his mother, no one has ever cared so much about him.

Looking at the girl's pale and worried face, Meng Zhao's heart moved slightly, and he had an inexplicable emotion.

"Cough cough... It's so cold..." Aoying suddenly coughed, and her thin body couldn't help shivering.

Meng Zhao then noticed that the clothes Aoying was wearing were the ones that were soaked by the heavy rain when she went out.

Now this dress is still wet and sticks tightly to her body.

He raised his hand and touched her forehead, and his palm was hot.

Meng Zhao frowned slightly. This silly woman didn't even know to change into clean clothes when she came back.

He reached out and untied Qingying's belt, and took off her wet clothes.

Although Meng Zhao's legs were crippled, his upper body was strong and he was very strong. He didn't even need to get up. He just used his two hands to carry the naked Qingying to the bed.

Author: Please give me one~