Dear Mr. Shi

A long time ago, Song Qinghuan had already seen Shi's protection against the cold, black belly and shamelessness.

Last night, Shi Yuhan refreshed her shame again, letting her understand that Shi Yuhan’s shamelessness and black belly have absolutely no lower limit!

Early in the morning, Song Qinghuan woke up with aching body. She opened her eyes and looked at the dilapidated smallpox. She was unable to move all over her body weakly.

Shi Yuhan was not in the room again, and I don't know where he went again.

Turning his head to look in the direction of the cradle, the baby still stayed quietly in it, seeming to be asleep.

So late, the baby should wake up too.

Song Qinghuan got up and put on clothes, and went to the rocker to look at the baby, only to find that the baby's face was a little abnormal.

She couldn't help but was startled, and hurriedly stretched out her hand to touch the child's face. With this touch, she suddenly felt cold all over.

Of course it was not that the child was cold, but the child who wanted to reverse was so hot, it was frightening that her hands and feet were cold.

"Baby, baby," Song Qinghuan patted the child's cheek. The child didn't respond at all. With such a high body temperature, it was obviously a fever, and the fever was so unconscious.

Song Qinghuan almost lost half of his three souls and seven souls, and his head buzzed. If she didn't detect the child's breath, she would have fainted on the spot.

She didn't even care about changing her shoes. She hugged the baby in her slippers, and rushed out of the room in a panic. At the same time, she yelled: "Where are you from the cold, and the baby has something wrong."

Shi Yuhan was coming here with a bag of food. Seeing Song Qinghuan panicked, he immediately strode over.

He asked softly: "What's the matter?"

Song Qinghuan became anxious and incoherent: "Baby, the baby is sick and has a high fever. Take a look, take a look, what should you do? Find a doctor, there is a doctor..."

"Don't worry, give me the child," Shi Yuhan said, throwing the bag in his hand to the ground, and pressing the child from Song Qinghuan's hand: "There is a clinic in the village. Let's take the child and take a look. ."

Talking about taking steps, holding the child to the destination.

Song Qinghuan immediately ran to catch up.

When she reached the door of the clinic, she rushed in quickly, crying for help anxiously all the way, "Doctor, help!"

The doctor in the clinic was very young, about thirty years old, wearing glasses, and looked very elegant. Seeing her look so flustered, he caught up with her. He stretched out his hand to signal her not to worry, and asked, "What's wrong? What happened? Yes? You speak slowly."

"Child, save the child, I have a high fever." Song Qinghuan said, pointing to the door.

It just so happened that Yuhan hugged the child and stepped forward quickly. The doctor's eyes sank and he immediately reacted. He immediately greeted him and took the child from Shi Yuhan's hand.

He hugged the child, laid it flat on the hospital bed, and began to examine and treat.

Song Qinghuan was in shock, standing beside him in a daze, looking at the doctor at a loss, looking at the child's red face, filled with waves of guilt and self-blame.

The rescue process was less than a minute, but for Song Qinghuan, it was as long as it was centuries.

It was not until the child suddenly opened his eyes and then cried out loudly that Song Qinghuan realized that he did not know when he clenched his fists and pinched his nails deeply into the palm of his hand.

During this process, Shi Yuhan held her shoulders all the time, hugged her in his arms, comforting her silently.