Chapter 111: Everything

She prayed all night long—to any god, deity, Buddha, Bodhisattva, Jade Emperor, or Yuanshi Tianzun—please save him, don’t let him die.

Guilt and self-reproach tormented her heart; if a man who had shown her kindness died because of her in this desolate forest, she… she truly didn’t know how she could ever repay him.

With worry and urgency, she kept her eyes wide open, watching him constantly, monitoring his temperature and heartbeat.

Fortunately, by the late night, Thomas’s heartbeat had grown steadily stronger; though his temperature remained low, it was slowly rising. It nearly brought her to tears.

She still held him tightly, continuing to warm him.

In the darkness, only a light rain still pattered against leaves and grass, all silence, as if no longer of this world.

Tree branches and leaves swayed gently in the night, casting tiny black shadows; everything was utterly still.

At dawn, Thomas’s heartbeat gradually stabilized, his temperature slowly returned, and Yang Yi’s heart finally eased a little; in the lullaby of drizzling rain, just as her worry lifted, exhaustion and drowsiness overwhelmed her.

She woke to the crisp chirping of birds.

The rain had stopped sometime ago; a pale blue morning mist hung over the forest, and the sky between the treetops was translucent blue-black.

It was the threshold between night and morning; faint light now glimmered within the forest.

The warm corner where they lay remained dark; Yang Yi looked down at Thomas’s face—he kept his eyes tightly shut, his lips had turned from deep red to dry and pale, yet his skin bore a sickly flush.

Feeling his heartbeat much stronger now, Yang Yi finally exhaled in relief.

She reached out to feel his forehead, then remembered she herself was burning hot from warming him; she pressed her own forehead against his—and realized he had a high fever.

“What are you doing?” Thomas suddenly opened his eyes, staring fixedly at the black eyes so close to his own. He shifted slightly, immediately sensing the intimacy of their position.

Time froze in that moment.

Yang Yi shot upright, instantly pulling away from him—but the space was too narrow; her head slammed hard against the top, producing a loud “thud—” that startled the birds resting nearby.

“Mr. Thomas… please let me explain… your body was freezing yesterday… your heartbeat was very slow…” Yang Yi stammered; she realized she didn’t know the word for “hypothermia,” and every time she opened her mouth, she couldn’t describe his condition or justify her actions.

She had never faced such an embarrassing situation in her life.

Thomas listened to her jumbled explanation, then said calmly: “Hypothermia—lowered body temperature, slowed heartbeat, violent shivering. I passed out yesterday, didn’t I?”

Yang Yi nodded vigorously.

“Hmm. Your first-aid method was scientifically sound. Without proper equipment, it was the only viable option.” His tone was indifferent.

“Yes, yes. It was the only first-aid method I could think of.” Yang Yi was almost moved by his words; freed from the embarrassment, she let out a long breath.

Thomas pushed himself up slowly with his left hand; Yang Yi hurried to help him.

He glanced around the surroundings, his gaze lingering on her for a moment—only then did Yang Yi realize she was still naked.

Her face flushed crimson; she crossed her arms over her chest and spun around abruptly.

Thomas picked up a bundle of clothes from the ground and tossed them to her, his voice still calm: “So—you killed those wolves yesterday?”

“Mm.” Yang Yi pulled out her filthy clothes and quickly dressed, retreating to a corner.

Thomas’s right wrist was bitten by a wolf; he could only struggle to pull on his clothes with his left hand, pressing his throbbing head, eyes closed in thought.

Yang Yi said nothing; she truly didn’t know what to say.

Though they had lain skin-to-skin all night, they were essentially strangers to each other.

“Why did you come into the forest alone?” Thomas asked quietly.

Yang Yi obviously couldn’t say she’d come to kill the black panther; she hesitated, then said, “I had nowhere else to go. I planned to live in the forest.” After all, she had already decided to live here—find a stream, build a house, plant flowers, and hunt any beasts that dared trespass. It wasn’t a lie—just a partial truth.

“Hmph—fair enough. You killed three wolves yesterday; you certainly have the right to live in this forest! And you’re an Awakened One.” He sneered, “Looks like I overestimated myself…”

“No, I used your pistol,” Yang Yi corrected him.

Thomas said nothing. He pressed his throbbing head, slumped weakly against the tree trunk, and closed his eyes again.

His pale skin was now flushed red; his black shirt hung loosely on his shoulder, the stark contrast of black and white strangely vivid. He lacked the energy to button it; his damp clothes clung to him, making him look even thinner.

With a high fever and soaked, icy clothes, his condition would worsen.

Yang Yi kept glancing at the sky, wishing dawn would come faster—perhaps the sun would bring some warmth.

“Do you know the way out?” Yang Yi asked. “You’re running a fever, and your wrist was bitten by a wolf—you need prompt medical care.”

Thomas didn’t open his eyes; his voice was weak: “Wait until the sun rises to determine direction.”

Yang Yi pressed the wrong button: “Oh, you’re lost too?”

Thomas ignored her. His right wrist throbbed painfully; his whole body shivered with cold, yet his forehead and face burned. He tried to button his shirt with his left hand but couldn’t even lift his arm.

Worried his condition would deteriorate, Yang Yi watched him closely; seeing this, she quietly stepped forward and buttoned his shirt for him. Thomas half-opened his eyes, glanced at her, and said nothing.

Due to illness, his hazel-green eyes were damp, his usually sharp lips tightly shut.

After finishing, Yang Yi retreated to her corner.

They could only wait for the sun to rise before finding direction; both fell silent.

The cramped space grew increasingly suffocating.

Yang Yi picked at the dirt and dried blood under her fingernails—left hand, then right, then her clothes.

Thomas kept his eyes shut, leaning against the tree trunk, his breathing growing increasingly rapid from the fever.

“Where are you from?” Thomas suddenly asked. “Why are you in the forest?”

“I don’t want to lie to you,” Yang Yi said, plucking a handful of dew-drenched grass from outside and rubbing it against the half-dried blood on her arm.

Thomas gave a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, alright. Then what’s your name?”

Yang Yi wiped her hands, paused, then said, “Frisa. I like that name.”

She revealed nothing.

Thomas stared straight at her; in the darkness, his hazel-green eyes seemed to glow. “You’re an Awakened One. Are you being hunted? Did you escape from a lab? Were you used in human experiments? Or are you part of some organization? Just tell me—I can help you…”

Yang Yi shook her head. “No.”

Thomas grew impatient; getting no answers to any question irritated him. Except for his work, he had little patience for others—and now, shivering, his head pounding, he was nearly out of patience entirely.

Normally, he would have flown into a rage, hurling insults—but today, for some reason, perhaps because he was too exhausted, or perhaps because of the fever, he tolerated her repeated evasions.

He wanted to help her. He wanted to resolve this mess quickly and return to his peaceful life, not be stuck like this…

He felt everything had gone completely awry—and it was only getting worse.

“Your accent bears the unmistakable traits of Xia. You’re from Xia.” He stated it as fact.