She suddenly seemed to feel much more relaxed.
The tune Zhang Qingrui hummed... carried a sense of warmth.
It was as if a stream of heat had been born in her lower abdomen before beginning to spread toward her limbs... Beneath the cold, damp cavern, Song Ying felt her cheeks growing hot. Even her consciousness was becoming hazy.
Her body grew sluggish, and the weakness in her limbs suddenly made Song Ying feel uneasy. She instinctively touched her forehead, only to find that it was burning hot.
I have a fever... Is it because I caught a chill?
Amid her blurriness, Zhang Qingrui's voice seemed to stop as well. Song Ying shone her phone's light over at Zhang Qingrui... and found her leaning against the rock wall, her cheeks flushed, breathing in small gasps, her gaze unfocused.
"It seems... it seems something's wrong..." Zhang Qingrui's voice came in fits and starts.
Song Ying struggled to reach out and touch the other woman's forehead. Zhang Qingrui was burning hot as well, just like her... Could it be because of those vines and tendrils they had just sucked on?
Are we poisoned...?
Song Ying laboriously shifted closer to Zhang Qingrui and shook her by the shoulder. "How are you... Are you still conscious...?"
Even so, Song Ying's own consciousness was gradually growing hazier.
Her vision began to warp, and she could barely make out Zhang Qingrui's features... So hot... So hot... So hot...
As her consciousness blurred, Song Ying only felt a hand roaming over her body. She raised her head slightly, her gaze growing even more unfocused, and saw a pretty face drawing infinitely closer to her.
The sound of breathing.
A primal impulse began to drown out her reason... She suddenly became proactive—or rather, she let her body take control.