Fu Zhengzheng looks up but finds that it is not Han Siqi.

It is Chen Qiaolan, who is holding an insulation barrel. She is breathing slightly. Her cotton-padded clothes are still unzipped and her soles are wet.

“Why are you here, Aunt Chen?” Fu Zhengzheng asks softly.

“Has your fever gone, Xingxing? Are you still uncomfortable?” Chen Qiaolan doesn’t answer her; instead, she hands the insulation barrel to Fu Zhengzheng and walks directly to Fu ...