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So hot.
He suddenly understood; the little girl's red, flushed face wasn't because she had been crying, but because she was feverish, feverish to this extent.
"Wuu wuu... hot." Gigi, held in his arms, had called out to him several times, and he seemed not to have minded her. Uncomfortably twisting in the man's embrace, she started to whimper, showing signs of crying, "Uncle... Uncle... hot."
Yet her hand still clung dependently to the man's clothes, gripping tightly, like finding light in the darkness.
"Hot... Gigi... hot..."
Lyle Westbrook looked at the pair of large eyes that were so similar to those he remembered, and for some reason, he was moved with compassion. He lifted her up a bit and coaxed her softly, "Alright, it's not hot. I'll take you to see the doctor. After seeing the doctor and taking your medicine, it won't hurt anymore."
The bodyguards in the room exchanged glances,
Is this Young Master Lyle?