"He's running a high-grade fever." Li Xinyuan whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "Is it an infection..?"
On the other side of Bai Huiqi's bed, Cheon WuHui frowned hearing those words. His scarlet gaze flicked to Li Xinyuan's face, then to the unconscious man.
Ultimately, for a long time he said nothing but simply clenched his fists.
"Infection?" In a low voice, he intoned, almost hesitant.
Li Xinyuan looked up at him, face calm. "Yes, I have to check." He murmured softly and stood up to check over the unconscious man. "Lend me a—" he cut himself off when he received neither a reply, nor so much as a shuffle, he frowned.
The prolonged silence compelled the surgeon to glance over his shoulder. Looking behind himself more carefully, he saw nothing.
Oh, there was no one.
