"Yes, of course." She led the way.

Once they reached the door, Qian Meng knocked.

And knocked and knocked. Mo Qingchen didn't even make a sound.

Where the hell was he? Xiong Hua seemed concerned as well.

She contacted the security guard, who informed them that Mo Qingchen hadn't left the house nor had he gone out for his morning run, which was apparently highly unusual for him.

Qian Meng kept knocking on his door and listening for any sounds from inside the room.

The guard finally arrived and Qian Meng recognized him as the man from last night who had stopped her. "Do you have a key to open the room?" The guard nodded, looking apprehensive.

"If he's hurt, it's your responsibility to protect him. So, open the door." Qian Meng was impatient. Her glib tongue got her out of all sorts of situations.

Just the thought of Mo Qingchen being hurt panicked her far more than it rationally should have, but in that moment, she only wanted to see him.

"Open it," she demanded firmly.

Reluctantly, the guard did as Qian Meng asked. Once the door was open, she barrelled past him. The room was a little living area with a couch and an entertainment table. The door on the far right led to what she assumed was Mo Qingchen's bedroom.

As Qian Meng reached the doorknob, the guard stopped her.

"I'll take care of this," he said dismissively. His arm blocked Qian Meng's way. He opened the door to the bedroom, leaving her behind with Xiong Hua.

She waited for what seemed like hours before she could take it no longer. She tried not to run as she made it inside the room. Her heart was racing out of her chest and her mind floated to the worst scenarios.

It took her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dark room. The guard was on bended knees, huddled over Mo Qingchen, who was lying on the floor near the bathroom.

There was no thought to her actions. She was by his side instantly.

"Oh my god!" she yelled, her eyes prickling with heat.

The guard didn't respond. He was checking Mo Qingchen's vitals. "He's breathing," he said calmly.

Qian Meng exhaled deeply and moved in closer. She wanted to see his face. He looked so pale and clammy. Her fingers brushed the messy black hair off his forehead.

His skin was scorching. "He's burning up!" she yelled yet again, unable to control her volume. She didn't panic often, but when she did, she screamed every word.

"I need help getting him to bed. Please get Xiong Hua," the guard ordered militantly.

"XIONG HUA!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, not wanting to leave Mo Qingchen's side.

The guard glared at her. Mo Qingchen stirred. Xiong Hua was beside them in a flash. The woman seemed to have supernatural powers.

After a bit of struggle, the three of them managed to get Mo Qingchen into bed. He was dead weight and it didn't sit well with Qian Meng.

"I'll call the doctor," the older woman announced before disappearing.

Qian Meng fluffed the pillows beneath Mo Qingchen's head and settled him beneath the blanket. Then she hopped into the bed so that she was sitting beside him. A light sheen of sweat covered his brows and she reached out and placed her palm on his cheek.

On fire.

Mo Qingchen started to murmur lightly, his eyes still tightly closed. She couldn't understand a word he was saying.

"Rest," she whispered, brushing her fingers along the side of his face.

But he wasn't listening. His body stirred in agitation. "Sorry," he mumbled over and over again. Not much of his other words were coherent.

"It's alright," she hushed him soothingly. But he grew more agitated. She hadn't even realized the guard was still standing in the room until the man cleared his throat behind her.

"I'll be back," he said as though Qian Meng cared. She nodded with taking her eyes off Mo Qingchen.

Thank god for Xiong Hua. She rolled in a small cart of supplies. Qian Meng had wanted to cool his burning skin but was unwilling to leave his side.

Qian Meng took his temperature and found it to be frightfully high. Somehow, with the help of Xiong Hua, she managed to feed him some medicine and then prepare a cold compress.

The older woman excused herself politely only after Qian Meng promised to call her if she needed anything. It was her first time taking care of an ill person, but she found herself dedicated to the task.

Once Xiong Hua left, Qian Meng looked down at the man.

Her mortal enemy.

The Dragon.

The snob.

As he laid there, he looked like none of those. His angelic face was deceptive. He concealed a wicked temper and a sort of pain that he pushed back.

She wrung out the hand towel over the basin of water and gently placed it against his forehead. After a few minutes, his eyes fluttered open.

He struggled to focus on her, his long lashes blinking rapidly. Qian Meng smiled down at him, relieved to see his eyes opening.

"Qian Meng," he said her name as though it were his favorite word. He was definitely delirious with fever.

"You scared me," she confessed, her tone warm with repercussion. She still kept cooling his skin with the compress. "You work too hard and don't get enough rest."

His eyes were half glazed over and staring at her face as she spoke.

"You died," he said, still staring.

She shook her head. "No, I am very much alive." And she was glad that was the case.

"No, I was at the funeral." Qian Meng's eyes flashed with shock. He's gone mad. "And I kissed you… because…" he trailed off.

"I kissed you," she contradicted. It was all a technicality.

His eyes flickered to her lips. "Why must you be so beautiful?" The sincerity in his voice took her by surprise.