"You're awake?" Lin Qiushu saw that Yan Ye had finally woken up, and her heart that had been clenched for days finally eased. "For the past few days, you've been repeatedly running a fever. Each time, the fever shot past thirty degrees, leaving you dazed—it was truly frightening to see."
"The fever's gone now. I feel much better," Yan Ye said weakly.
"What happened? Your hand was injured—why has the fever been so persistent? Was the wound infected?" Qin Jian put down his things and approached the bedside to check on Yan Ye.
"Hmm. The inflammation's mostly under control now! You guys don't need to worry about me!" Yan Ye said, casting a guilty look at An Hao. "I made you suffer. I, a grown man, ended up leaving first—abandoning you to face being a hostage alone. Honestly, I feel awful about it."
After he finished speaking, he lowered his gaze, his long eyelashes casting a shadow beneath his eyelids.
