The dark room was dimly lit by a bedside lamp, and the air took on a hint of ambiguity.
Barrett Scott felt his blood surging within him, so hot, unbearably hot...
This kind of heat was killing him...
The heat was uncomfortable, and due to the traditional medicine, he was in a state of unconsciousness, only aware that it was unbearably hot.
At that moment, he felt like a furnace, his throat dry and parched from the heat.
Just as he was boiling over, he suddenly felt a cold touch on his body, and instinctively gasping for survival, he muttered, "Water—"
"Don't go, don't go..."
Because his hands were tied, he couldn't move or hug the other person. All he knew was that he was burning up, almost ready to explode.
Just when he felt on the verge of combustion, he was suddenly engulfed by a chill from all sides, and simultaneously, the ropes on his hands were untied, and his lips were met with a soft and cold touch.
Lips, lips?!
