Jarvin Wen's cold didn't get any better after a day. When he got home from evening self-study, his grandmother stood on tiptoe and touched his forehead, worriedly asking, "Do you want to go to the hospital? Why is your fever still low? Have you taken all the medicine?"
"I ate it all." Pulling the black strap of his schoolbag, Jarvin Wen lowered his head so that his grandmother could touch him. "Try again. It's lower in temperature than this morning."
He hunched his back, and underneath his school uniform he had the slender curves typical of a teenager.
Grandma took the temperature again and said, "It is a little lower than this morning, but let's wait and see tomorrow. If it is serious, shall we go to the hospital?"
"Don't you have a meeting to attend tomorrow?" Jarvin Wen changed into slippers and walked in.
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