Chapter Forty-Eight: The Rescue Army Finally Arrives!

When Lin Xing’s fever broke, it was already four in the morning. Qin Sheng and Jiang Miaomiao were utterly exhausted, slumped beside him with barely enough strength to straighten their backs.

Jiang Miaomiao breathed a sigh of relief, glanced at Lin Xing, then shifted her gaze to Qin Sheng. “Sheng, what’s really going on with Lin Xing?”

Qin Sheng shook her head. She had never seen Lin Xing like this before. She wondered if perhaps his abilities were awakening, but even in her previous life, she had never witnessed such a condition, so she dismissed that possibility.

“He’s over the fever now. He should be fine. You two should get some rest; I’ll stay and watch over him.” Compared to Jiang Miaomiao and Chu Xingyu, Qin Sheng seemed the most composed. She insisted they return to their rooms to rest.

“I’ll stay, Sheng. You must be tired, too.” Chu Xingyu’s voice was weak, but he stubbornly offered to keep watch over Lin Xing.

“If you both go, I’m not all that tired—I’ll stay.” Jiang Miaomiao chimed in.

Qin Sheng laughed softly, already used to their friendly squabbles.

“Be good, I’m fine. Go rest,” Qin Sheng said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Only then did Jiang Miaomiao and Chu Xingyu relent, leaving together to rest.

Qin Sheng lowered her eyes to Lin Xing, whose cheeks were still flushed from his fever. She felt his pulse; it was nothing like that of someone who’d just been through a high fever. Qin Sheng had never read of such a case in any medical book.

“It seems I can’t let my skills as a caretaker lapse,” Qin Sheng sighed, pulling a medical book from her space. It was unmistakably the new medical treatise she’d seen at the Random Shop, signed by her grandfather Qin Zongming.

Qin Sheng sat beside Lin Xing, quietly leafing through the unfamiliar book.

Since childhood, she had followed her grandfather, Qin Zongming, reading all manner of medical texts. She had poured over his writings and compilations countless times, so much so that they were etched in her mind.

She sighed, running her fingers gently across her grandfather’s handwriting—familiar yet strange. Counting both lives, it had been so long since she’d seen him.

“Caught up in your reading, are you? Not even a greeting for your young master?” A wickedly charming voice echoed through the air, pulling Qin Sheng from her reverie.

Qin Sheng raised an eyebrow, closed the book, and turned to face the source of the voice.

A tall, slender figure in white emerged from the darkness. Qin Sheng watched Song Qing’an approach, arms folded, observing him in silence.

“Did Lu Shenchen not feed you tonight?” There was a hint of laughter in Qin Sheng’s eyes. She hadn’t noticed how familiar she had grown with Song Qing’an, enough to tease him easily.

It was nothing like acquaintanceship of just a month, more akin to old friends.

Song Qing’an sighed and took a seat beside Qin Sheng, crossing his legs and speaking in a pitiful tone. “Lu Shenchen suddenly decided to fast today, for reasons unknown.”

Qin Sheng was surprised. For Lu Shenchen, a notorious foodie, to even mention fasting was astonishing. She recalled how, the last time she left, Lu Shenchen had swindled plenty of good food from her.

It was likely Song Qing’an had provoked Lu Shenchen, leaving him without a meal tonight.

Qin Sheng nodded knowingly and, without hesitation, pulled an Orleans chicken sandwich from her pocket.

Song Qing’an’s eyes lit up at the sight and quickly snatched it from her hand.

Qin Sheng watched him eat with gusto and smiled helplessly. He must have been starving for too long. She fetched more snacks from her space.

Song Qing’an stared at the pile of food before him, surprised and somewhat puzzled. He had expected nothing but compressed biscuits tonight, yet here were sandwiches and so many treats.

Qin Sheng noticed Song Qing’an had paused, and asked, “Why aren’t you eating?”

Song Qing’an came back to himself, took a big bite of the sandwich, and replied, “Nothing. I just noticed you seem rather gentle tonight.”

Qin Sheng was startled by his words. Her smile stiffened slightly. She hadn’t realized she’d been smiling at Song Qing’an just now.

“All this food and you still can’t keep quiet?” Qin Sheng cleared her throat, smile vanishing, returning to her usual cool demeanor.

Her mood shifted so quickly that Song Qing’an was caught off guard. He raised his eyebrows instinctively and continued eating.

“Sandwiches really are the best.” After so many compressed biscuits, the sandwich tasted like a rare delicacy.

Qin Sheng touched the phoenix charm on her wrist, thinking of the endless supply of food in her space. From hotpot and barbecue to anything found in a supermarket, she could retrieve it all.

“Why do you act like you’ve never had good food?” Qin Sheng asked, puzzled. Lu Shenchen’s cooking wasn’t gourmet, but it was delicious enough. Yet Song Qing’an seemed nearly moved to tears by a mere sandwich.

Song Qing’an paused, his eyes turning bitter. After a long moment, he forced a smile and replied, “I truly haven’t had much good food.”

Qin Sheng hadn’t expected her guess to be right. She frowned in suspicion. “You don’t look it.”

Song Qing’an had just finished his sandwich and wiped his hands. Seeing Qin Sheng’s curiosity, a sly gleam flashed in his eyes.

“Are you sure you want to hear?” Song Qing’an’s mischief faded, replaced by a trace of sorrow.

Qin Sheng nodded, an inexplicable heaviness pressing on her heart.

“Then I’ll tell you.” Song Qing’an grabbed a bottle of water, took a sip, and began, “My parents died when I was very young. For years, I had only myself…”

At his first words, Qin Sheng’s eyes softened with pity. Though she hadn’t seen her family for a long time, at least her childhood had been happy—so different from Song Qing’an’s.

Seeing her compassion, Song Qing’an knew his words had struck a chord. He pressed his lips together, and continued, “I wandered for a long time, so a sandwich might be something I’d never eaten before.”

Qin Sheng’s heart ached. These snacks she could easily keep in her pocket, but anything else would be too conspicuous.

Song Qing’an had only gotten halfway through his story when Qin Sheng stood and left. He opened his mouth to speak, but she was already gone.

“Did I overdo it?” Song Qing’an muttered, uncertain why Qin Sheng had left.

About five minutes later, the door opened again. Song Qing’an couldn’t immediately see what had entered.

Qin Sheng returned, arms full of instant hotpot and an assortment of snacks, struggling under the load.

Recognizing her, Song Qing’an hurried forward to take the items from her hands.

“These are for you,” Qin Sheng said, placing everything on the table and gesturing at Song Qing’an.

He raised an eyebrow, not overly interested in the food, but surprised by Qin Sheng’s reaction.

“Eat your fill of what you once couldn’t have,” Qin Sheng smiled, patting his shoulder, her gaze warmer than he’d ever seen.

“No need to be moved. I have plenty more,” she added as Song Qing’an remained silent.

He raised an eyebrow, the smile in his eyes deepening. “Alright.”

Qin Sheng returned to her seat and resumed reading. Song Qing’an quietly munched on his snacks. Neither spoke for a long while.

As dawn crept in, Song Qing’an stood.

Qin Sheng noticed and rose as well. “Are you leaving?”

Song Qing’an nodded, his eyes lingering on the heap of snacks Qin Sheng had brought, piled like a small mountain. He couldn’t help but laugh.

Qin Sheng looked puzzled. “What’s so funny?”

Song Qing’an shook his head, speaking with layered meaning, “A little cunning never hurts.”

Qin Sheng: “?”

Song Qing’an smiled, gathered up the food, and walked out, leaving Qin Sheng behind, still confused.

A minute later, her voice rang out in the room.

“Song Qing’an, you’re the one lacking sense!”

Song Qing’an, not far away, stopped in his tracks, the smile at his eyes brightening.

Gone was the sympathy she’d shown earlier; Qin Sheng now wanted nothing more than to drag Song Qing’an back and demand an explanation.

She’d given him good food, and he’d called her foolish.

Qin Sheng clenched her fists, vowing never to give Song Qing’an treats again.

“Miss…” came Lin Xing’s weak voice from behind.

Qin Sheng hurried to pour him a glass of water and handed it to the freshly awakened Lin Xing.

“How are you feeling?” she asked as soon as he finished drinking.

He shook his head weakly, his lips still alarmingly pale. “Much better now. Thank you, Miss.”

Hearing Lin Xing was alright, Qin Sheng finally relaxed.

“Rest well. I’ll prepare something for you to eat.”

Lin Xing nodded and lay back down.

Qin Sheng left and headed straight for the rooftop. She remembered storing some supplements in her space; she just needed to search for them.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

No sooner had Qin Sheng reached the rooftop than she heard the crack of gunfire and the roar of heavy weaponry not far away.

She clenched her fists.

Just as she had expected.

The rescue troops had finally arrived.