Shen You'an put down her chopsticks and stood up, walking over.
She reached out to touch the boy's forehead, but he flinched instinctively, retreating a step back.
As though she was some kind of ferocious beast.
Shen You'an paused, slightly stunned. "Is your brain working properly?"
The boy said nothing, pressing his pale lips together.
He looked frail and small, only reaching her shoulder. His clear eyes carried a melancholy shade of gray-black.
Like a stubborn yet fragile little lynx.
For some reason, a fleeting moment of tenderness surfaced in Shen You'an's heart.
She smiled and spoke in an exceptionally gentle voice, "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."
Perhaps it was the girl's tenderness that eventually melted his tension. The boy began to lower his guard.
"I just want to check if you still have a fever."
This time, the boy did not resist Shen You'an's touch.
Fortunately, the fever had subsided.
Shen You'an let out a breath of relief.
