Dr. Zheng had a bitter smile on his face. "Young Master Peary, no matter how familiar we are with each other, I still have my dignity. Being on call whenever you summon me is one thing, but this... this is like you’re crying wolf just for kicks!" Uh, that’s not right. The ’crying wolf’ story involved Lilian. Young Master Peary is all alone, so who is he putting on this show for? "What are you waiting for? Hurry up!" Maxwell Peary frowned. He’d always found Dr. Zheng quite nimble before; could it be that he’d gotten old? If Dr. Zheng heard Maxwell Peary’s thoughts, he’d probably cough up three basins of blood. He was only in his early thirties, just a few years older than Young Master Peary, yet in the CEO’s eyes, he was already old... Maxwell Peary led the way back into the room and went to the bedside. Looking at Nia Mitchell on the bed, her eyes wide and round, he suddenly felt his heart settle. "She has a fever, come check." Dr. Zheng was still frozen in place. This... There was someone in Young Master Peary’s bed. A woman in Young Master Peary’s bed! HOLY CRAP, what the hell is going on? "This..." Dr. Zheng stretched out an uncontrollably trembling finger, slowly pointing to the lump under the covers on the bed. "My wife," Maxwell Peary said it casually, and Dr. Zheng was successfully shocked to his core. "She has a fever." Maxwell Peary spoke again, "This is the important part. Otherwise, why would I have called you over?" Introduce him to my wife? Heh, *I* don’t have the time or inclination for that. "Ah? Oh..." Dr. Zheng seemed to finally snap out of his daze, robotically taking a thermometer from the First Aid Kit. Maxwell Peary watched Dr. Zheng walk straight to the bedside and saw the doctor’s hand reaching out. "What are you doing!" Maxwell Peary grabbed Dr. Zheng’s right hand, his eyes glinting menacingly. "Uh... T-take... take her temperature..." He was about to hand the thermometer to Nia Mitchell; what on earth was the CEO playing at by grabbing his hand? "I’ll do it." Maxwell Peary frowned and took the thermometer. What kind of joke was this? This was *his* wife; how could he let another man take her temperature? Nia Mitchell was already blushing, and seeing Maxwell Peary’s expression, her face turned a few shades redder. "I’ll do it myself," Nia said in a hoarse voice, reaching out her small hand to take the thermometer. "Don’t move." Maxwell Peary frowned, tucked her outstretched small hand back under the covers, and then personally placed the thermometer under her armpit. Nia Mitchell lay awkwardly in bed. The blanket was tucked tightly around her, making her feel uncomfortable all over. Unable to help it, she shifted uncomfortably. "Don’t move!" Maxwell Peary shot her a glare. She’s sick and still can’t keep still. Hearing his two stern words, Nia Mitchell instantly stilled, her body becoming ramrod straight. The rıghtful source is 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹•𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒•𝙣𝙚𝙩 Less than thirty seconds passed, and she wilted. "I... I feel uncomfortable." Being bundled up had made her sweat, and now she felt sticky and thoroughly uncomfortable all over. So, she looked at Maxwell Peary pitifully, pouting. Seeing her , Maxwell Peary’s heart softened. He immediately sat down on the edge of the bed and gently brushed the hair from her forehead. "Good girl, don’t move. Are you thirsty? Shall I get you another glass of water?" Nia Mitchell shook her head weakly. Although her throat was very dry, her stomach felt empty, and she didn’t want to drink water. Meanwhile, Dr. Zheng, trying his best to minimize his presence, was in utter mental chaos. Was that man sitting by the bed really Young Master Peary? The Young Master Peary *he* knew? His eyes must be deceiving him. Young Master Peary couldn’t possibly... possibly be so gentle. And ’good girl’? He had to be seeing things! He must have rushed out this morning without checking the almanac.