After hearing this joking remark, Qin Zhao just glanced at Jing Li lightly.
That is to say, we should take advantage of the fact that he is burning with fever and cannot move or speak, otherwise we will not allow this little fish to be so arrogant.
"Okay, I won't tease you anymore." Jing Li scooped a spoonful of porridge, blew it cool, and fed it to Qin Zhao's mouth.
This porridge was just ordinary rice porridge, with nothing in it. It had been simmered for a long time and had a soft, sticky, and thick texture. But when Qin Zhao drank it, he actually tasted a bit bitter.
These are all symptoms of typhoid fever. Qin Zhao understands medicine and naturally understands them.
He frowned slightly, his throat rolling, and he swallowed hard, enduring the pain. Then he said in a low, hoarse voice, "Increase the dosage of the preventive decoction by 30%. You and Ah Qi should take it every morning and evening. Don't—"
"I know." Jing Li fed him another spoonful of porridge and interrupted, "Qi has already prepared the medicine. You don't have to worry about these things. Just take care of yourself."
Jing Li lowered his eyes and sighed silently: "You didn't see your son crying outside the door. I felt so sad."
Qin Zhao swallowed a mouthful of porridge and replied softly, "Okay."
Not long after he finished drinking the porridge, Jing Li brought him some medicine. Qin Zhao's consciousness was already a little hazy when he drank the medicine. In his confusion, he felt unbearable pain in all his muscles and bones, and cold sweat almost soaked his clothes.
Jing Li was no longer as panicked as he was when he first saw Qin Zhao fall ill.
He stayed by the bed all night, feeding him water, cooling him down, wringing out the towel, and wiping Qin Zhao's body over and over again.
The next day, Qin Zhao opened his eyes.
His body temperature had dropped, but his limbs still felt sore and weak from the high fever, and his head was aching so much it felt like it was splitting. Qin Zhao took a breath silently and was about to stand up when he touched a cold, bare arm.
Jing Li lay beside him, her limbs covering him, her head still resting in Qin Zhao's arms.
He was shirtless, and Qin Zhao's shirt was also open, allowing him to directly touch the other's slightly cool skin.
Is this... helping him cool down?
Qin Zhao lowered his head and looked at Jing Li's sleeping face.
The young man slept uneasily, his brows furrowed tightly, and he looked a little tired. Last night, Qin Zhao was drowsy from a fever, and he could feel this man guarding him all the time.
Judging from his appearance, he probably didn't sleep all night.
Qin Zhao gently stroked Jing Li's hair. The latter was indeed not sleeping soundly, and he woke up almost immediately after he moved.
Jing Li straightened up slightly and used his palm to test the temperature of Qin Zhao's forehead: "The temperature has dropped a little, but it's still a little hot."
"This is typhoid fever, how can it be cured so easily?" Qin Zhao's voice was still a little hoarse. He stroked Jing Li's hair and asked in a low voice, "When did you go to bed last night?"
Jing Li slid out of the quilt, picked up the clothes thrown aside and put them on, rubbing his eyes: "I don't remember."
“You…”
Qin Zhao sighed and was about to say something when he heard Jing Li say, "Ah Qi said that Yuzai was very well behaved last night. He slept peacefully on his own and didn't need anyone to coax him."
He knelt beside Qin Zhao and whispered, "This is the first time I didn't coax him to sleep..."
Qin Zhao was silent for a moment, then stood up.
"Don't move." Jing Li quickly held him down. "Whatever you want to do, I'll do it. The doctor said you need to stay in bed and rest."
"Okay, I won't move." Qin Zhao said, "Then come here."
Jing Li: “Ah?”
Qin Zhao stretched out his arms: "Come here and let me hug you."
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