Chapter 12 Brother will feed you "Baby, baby!" Song...

"Baby, baby!" Song Qingshu felt someone shaking him, but he felt a little dizzy and his eyelids were heavy, so he didn't want to pay attention.

The annoying voice continued, "Wake up, baby!"

He wanted to reach out and push the person away, but he couldn't use any strength at all. His snow-white face was flushed, his breathing was burning, and sweat oozed from his forehead, which made He Feng very anxious.

He woke up from his nap and felt a little hot around him. He thought that Song Qingshu had finally slept warmer, but when he opened his eyes, he found that he didn't sleep too hot, but had a fever.

He couldn't help but regret that he would lose his mind when he saw that beautiful face. How could he really take her to the bridge?

The weather turned cold after the autumn rain. Even if Song Qingshu wore an extra layer of clothes, he couldn't stand the cool breeze, not to mention that he got a little wet on the way back.

Seeing he couldn't wake him, He Feng turned and fetched a wet towel, ready to wipe the hot sweat from Song Qingshu's body. He also found some paracetamol tablets, which he would feed to him later.

The electricity wasn't fixed yet, and He Feng, with his good eyesight, knew that people were sensitive to the elements, so he didn't light a kerosene lamp. He simply sat by the bed,

wiping away the sweat with a half-damp towel. There wasn't much sweat on the corners of his forehead or the tip of his nose, but the wet towel brushed across the unconscious man, still providing a slight sense of coolness.

He froze, peeling off the clothes that clung to Song Qingshu's body, as if peeling the skin of something, but he moved with great care, fearing to disturb the person being pinched.

The feverish heat intensified Song Qingshu's delicate medicinal fragrance, stripping away the bitter top note, leaving only a sweetness He Feng couldn't quite place.

He Feng didn't even notice that his hand, reaching out to wipe his neck, was trembling. He swallowed, his eyes and nose focused as he gently wiped the delicate, fair skin.

Being so close, the green veins beneath his blood vessels were exposed. Song Qingshu was beautiful, without a single flaw on his body, and even the warm breath he exhaled was sweet.

He Feng's face was tense, and his rough hands wiped the slender neck with a wet towel.

The sweat was wiped away, and when he put away the towel, it touched the skin on his chest. Song Qingshu, who was originally dazed by the fever, suddenly let out a faint moan.

He Feng was even more obsessed. He raised his eyelids and stared at the young man with a feverish face and bright red eyes.

The pink lips and the mumbling from his lips made him more and more excited.

Through the wet towel, his hand uncontrollably spread the towel to cover that tempting place.

The green, tender, pale pink cherries hanging on the branches in spring flashed through his mind.

Suddenly, his throat felt a little dry, and He Feng forced his eyes to fix on Song Qingshu's face.

But his hand was already covering his chest through the towel, and under his palm was his heartbeat that rose and fell with his breathing, as well as his daughter's seed.

Song Qingshu hummed in response, as if with a hint of tears in his voice. The towel under his palm was no longer cold, but was heated by the body temperature of both of them.

He Feng, who had come to his senses, wanted to slap himself. He picked up the corner of the towel with a sharp movement, opened it, and threw it into the basin of water beside him.

His skin felt cool when it came into contact with the air, and Song Qingshu opened his eyes with heavy eyelids.

It was gloomy outside the window, and the light inside the room was not very bright. He only saw He Feng burying himself in the basin of water with his eyelids drooping without saying a word.

"Brother?"

He Feng was just trying to sober himself up with water, and with his ears still exposed, he raised his head from the basin in an instant.

He snored at his face to shake off the excess water, and said in a concerned voice, "Baby, are you still feeling uncomfortable?"

The usually gentle man had his delicate eyebrows slightly frowned, and he must still be feeling uncomfortable.

Song Qingshu smiled faintly. Fevers were a common occurrence for him. In his original world, he'd even felt groggy and weak every day, his heart, like an old machine, gradually stopping.

His voice was hoarse, devoid of its usual energy. "It's okay, I'm used to it."

He Feng placed the hot water next to him on the back of his hand to feel the temperature. It was still a little hot, so he wanted to give Song Qingshu some medicine while he was awake.

Song Qingshu's eyelids drooped, looking sleepy. He touched Song Qingshu's forehead. "Put a towel on your head first. We'll take the medicine and then go to sleep."

He tilted his head to rub the warm hand, not feeling the calluses rubbing against it. "Okay."

He tried to keep his eyelids up. The water on He Feng's face flowed down the tip of his straight nose and gathered at his chin, his angular jaw. He Feng seemed unaware of it. He

leaned over and placed the wet towel on Song Qingshu's forehead.

Coincidentally, as he pulled away, a drop of water hit Song Qingshu's chest.

He Feng instinctively reached for the wipe, his index and middle fingers moving together, successfully lifting the unresponsive girl's head and making her stand straight up.

Only when their eyes met did He Feng realize what a foolish thing he had done.

He met those beautiful eyes, and froze in place like a stone statue.

Song Qingshu was the first to react, closing his eyes and tilting his head, his gaze wandering. "Help me sit up and take the medicine, brother."

He Feng didn't dare look directly at his fair, rosy skin. He pulled the quilt upwards, pinched Song Qingshu's armpits like a child, and lifted him up to a sitting position.

Two drops of water from his chin landed on the bed, but he didn't care. Noticing that the white smoke from the enamel teacup on the cabinet had subsided, he handed it to Song Qingshu.

Song Qingshu lowered his head and took a sip of water. When he was almost ready to take the medicine, He Feng handed him a white pill, his eyes first falling on Song Qingshu's rosy lips, then on his small Adam's apple.

With a click, he broke the pill in two.

"Drink one by one."

He handed over half a pill.

Song Qingshu was treated in this way when he was a child. His throat was thin and he couldn't swallow capsules and larger tablets. His grandmother would split the capsules and break the larger tablets in half.

It was actually very bitter, but his grandmother would give him a White Rabbit pill to coax him. Unfortunately, he no longer had his grandmother.

This half pill lay in He Feng's palm, looking even smaller. His nose was sour. Song Qingshu held back his tears, took the pill and put it in his mouth, quickly sipped the water and looked up again.

The pill that stayed on the tip of his tongue for a moment still left a bitter taste. He lowered his head to take the other half and drank it quickly again.

There was a little moisture at the corner of his eyes, and He Feng reached out to wipe it away. "It's so bitter."

Song Qingshu tasted the pain in his eyes from these words. He didn't dare to look up, and his nose was even more sour, for fear that the moment he looked up, tears would fall uncontrollably.

He was already an adult, and it was not good to cry in front of He Feng all the time.

Who knew that He Feng would bend down and hand over a White Rabbit candy, "Hey." "

I was worried that the baby would suffer, so I saw one on the table when I was getting the medicine, so I brought it here."

Song Qingshu used to sweeten his lips while reading novels. With a smile on his lips, tears fell down, shattering between the candy wrapper and He Feng's palm.

He Feng sighed, peeled off the candy wrapper, and raised his hand a little. Song Qingshu did not use his hand, but lowered his head along He Feng's hand and held the fragrant soft candy with his lips.

The soft lips fell on the fingertips, and He Feng withdrew his hand with a palpitating heart and held the person in his arms.

"Go to sleep, you won't feel uncomfortable after a while."

Song Qingshu nodded as he was hugged in his arms. His furry hair scratched He Feng's neck, itching slightly, and he swallowed again.

He patted Song Qingshu's back, imitating the way his mother coaxed him in his memory. "Go to sleep."

He put Song Qingshu down, then washed the towel and put it back on top. With his heart pounding, he walked out.

Seeing that the rain had subsided, he was still a little dissatisfied.

He wished that there would be a strong wind and heavy rain, hitting him, washing away his unspeakable heat and the emotions he couldn't say.

Reason was pulling at him frantically again.

Xiao Hei hid under the eaves, watching his master rush into the yard and not move. He shook his head in confusion and changed his position and lay down.

He Feng drew another bucket of well water for himself, but didn't dare to splash it on himself directly, in case he really got sick and couldn't take care of Song Qingshu.

He sat at the door of the main room and thought for a long time, until the night fell and swallowed everything.

He suddenly stood up, which scared Xiao Hei so much that he stood up from the ground and followed him into the inner room.

The person on the bed was still asleep, and the towel on his forehead was almost dry. He Feng suddenly slapped himself, then took off the towel and wiped his face.

He buried his nose in the towel and smelled the familiar fragrance. He almost felt his blood boiling. If he hadn't felt Song Qingshu's body temperature before, he would really suspect that he was made of jade.

Xiao Hei's claws hit the bricks, and the clacking sound reached his ears. He Feng raised his head and walked out.

The ducks in the yard were quacking. He Feng forgot to feed them in the afternoon. He Feng went to the sundry room to get some wheat bran, mixed it with old cucumbers, and ate it.

The chickens didn't crow, but they kept pecking at the persimmons that fell on the ground because of hunger.

After feeding, He Feng went to the pen to pick up a few eggs. He would make egg custard for him in the evening.

Song Qingshu was still woken up by He Feng. He could sleep well when he was sick. He was weak and had no strength, so he just lay there and slept.

The sugar in his mouth had melted, but the sweetness in his cheek was greasy. He Feng felt the temperature with the back of his hand. It was much better than at noon.

Worried it wasn't accurate, he leaned forward and felt his forehead against his. Their breaths mingled for a moment, and Song Qingshu's mouth dropped open in surprise.

The rich, sweet, milky aroma emanated from him,

spreading between them and adding to the ambiguous atmosphere.

He Feng stepped back and touched his ear. "My mother taught me this. She did it when she had a fever when I was little. Sometimes, when she was worried it wasn't accurate, she'd use her lips to feel the temperature." "

It's more accurate than a thermometer."

After hearing his explanation, Song Qingshu no longer felt strange and looked up at him.

"Eat something first, then take the medicine afterward."

A lit kerosene lamp and a familiar enamel teacup sat on the cabinet. He Feng held the not-so-hot bowl, scooped a piece of tea with a spoon, blew on it, and then brought it to Song Qingshu's lips.

Song Qingshu began to feel embarrassed again. He was an adult after all, so how could He Feng always treat him like a child?

He didn't let him work or help, but he took care of him in every way, even feeding him.

He raised his hand to take the spoon, "Brother, I will..."

"Brother will feed you." The tone was again unyielding.

Song Qingshu lowered his head and ate bite by bite, his thick eyelashes like crow feathers curled up, covering his eyes. Looking from top to bottom, only the tip of his nose and slightly pink lips could be seen.

He Feng enjoyed this very much, with an indescribable sense of security and happiness. It

would be nice if he could live like this, he could bury his feelings deep in his heart, as long as Song Qingshu was happy and happy.