"..."
Deng Jiugong fell silent for a moment.
The other patients also noticed something amiss and began looking for the source of the voice.
Everyone saw Qian Bao's sallow face. His eyes were open, and instead of the cloudiness of a sick man's gaze, they were exceptionally clear.
"This..."
They looked at one another.
Someone worked up the courage to touch Qian Bao's body.
No fever!
The patients knew the sensations in their own bodies better than anyone. The greatest sign of the illness was a burning fever all over!
Qian Bao's voice was as faint as a thread. "Has no one brought food this morning?"
This...
Qian Bao had shattered their hopes, only to force an even greater, more unmistakable hope into their hands!
The patients in the tent had struggled to hold on for so long, believing death was their only road left. Yet here was Qian Bao, alive before their eyes, despite the imperial physician's declaration that he would not survive the night!
He had recovered.
The plague had been cured!
They wept with joy!
The patients' wailing and howling woke the soldiers in the camp.
A living example of someone cured of the plague was more effective than any promise of hope!
Wan Nian arrived with food, and Qian Bao devoured it with gusto.
This plague also induced vomiting. The afflicted were like sailors aboard the Navy's ships at sea: even if they managed to eat something, they soon threw it back up.
Now, however, Qian Bao ate his foxtail millet porridge without vomiting a single mouthful. He kept praising how delicious it was and even asked for Meat Porridge!
Deng Xiu, who was inspecting the camp on his father's behalf, could not suppress the joy in his eyes. He rushed straight into the camp and