He hadn't misheard, had he?
Although he was suspicious of it...
The woodcutter's heart... slowly sank.
He opened his mouth.
"...Little brother."
After a long while, the woodcutter finally spoke.
"You..."
A sudden flash of insight crossed the woodcutter's mind.
He reached out and felt the Young Scholar's forehead.
"Are you feeling unwell?"
"Was it the rain? Did it affect you after all?"
Although he had given the Young Scholar ginger soup, no matter how one looked at it, the Young Scholar had been soaked by the rain for several days.
One bowl of ginger soup couldn't have been enough to drive out the cold, could it?
The cold had entered his body.
It had even left the Young Scholar's mind somewhat muddled.
"I'll go find a physician."
The woodcutter immediately stood up.
He had been negligent.
He should have gone to fetch a physician from the very beginning.
He hadn't delayed his little brother's illness, had he?
The woodcutter was somewhat worried.
"Brother."
The Young Scholar called out.
He reached out, wanting to grab the woodcutter.
Unfortunately, he was still somewhat weak. His strength had never matched the woodcutter's, and now, with a light fling from the woodcutter, the Young Scholar's hand was shaken off.
But the woodcutter ultimately stopped.
For the moment, at least.
The woodcutter turned his head.
"Little brother, stay here."
"I'll be back soon."
"Brother."
The Young Scholar raised his voice.
"I'm fine."
"You don't need to find a physician."
"How can you be fine?"
The woodcutter said instinctively, "You've already started talking nonsense..."
The Young Scholar froze slightly.
Then he shook his head.
"No."
"I wasn't talking nonsense."
"I know exactly what I'm saying."
The woodcutter turned back around.
"I'm going to find a physician."
"Brother!"