No time to hesitate.
Li Wuhui warmed her hands on her face, then reached over to shake Qiu Yiran.
“Qiu Yiran, it’s snowing.”
This time she raised her volume.
Qiu Yiran dazedly opened her eyes for a moment in her haze, stared at her for a few seconds, but didn’t respond before immediately closing her eyelids again.
This reaction was very off.
Li Wuhui cautiously realized this.
She first pressed her cold hand to her own face, then patted Qiu Yiran’s cheek.
“Qiu Yiran—”
The words caught in her throat. In that second, she realized Qiu Yiran’s temperature was very wrong.
Li Wuhui shrank back her fingers.
She pinched her own palm hard.
Forcing herself to calm down, she probed Qiu Yiran’s forehead again. Sure enough, it burned with a frightening heat.
And at that moment—
Qiu Yiran painfully opened her eyes again, her voice hoarse. “Is it snowing, Li Wuhui?”
“You have a fever.”
Sensing Qiu Yiran’s furrowed brows, Li Wuhui slowly withdrew her hand.
She glanced out the car window and calmly took stock of their current predicament—
An uninhabited highway in Russia, increasingly heavy snow, narrowing visibility, Qiu Yiran flushed from fever and unable to stay clear-headed, and Li Wuhui too panicked with heart palpitations to dare drive onward.
A deadlock.
The only variable she could control was herself, Li Wuhui.
“Ah?” Qiu Yiran struggled to prop her eyelids open. She suddenly realized many things in her field of vision were blurry.
Especially—the woman beside her, leaning over and quietly gazing at her.
“I have a fever?”
She felt very confused.
She had no idea how this had happened. She had just felt sleepy, taken a nap, and then grew so dizzy she could barely open her eyes. She started sweating profusely, and her vision darkened whenever she opened them—this was probably the precursor before fully passing out. She had fainted from pain like this many times before.
The thought that she might become a burden again made her even more anxious. She tried to struggle upright to check the situation.
“Is it snowing then?”
But Li Wuhui pressed her back down.
She picked up the thick coat that had slipped off Qiu Yiran’s body, draped it over her, and carefully tucked in every corner.
Finally,
Li Wuhui curled her uncontrollably trembling fingers and placed them on the steering wheel.
“It’s not snowing.”
Li Wuhui said.
Qiu Yiran actually harbored some doubts in that moment, but when feverish and muddled, people easily let down their defenses.
Thanks to Li Wuhui’s firm tone, she closed her eyes with relief.
Only Li Wuhui remained.
She alone faced the ever-heavier snow, a steering wheel she hadn’t touched in ages, and a highway with severely limited visibility.
She knew there was no turning back.
She had to get the feverish Qiu Yiran to a hospital as quickly as possible and ensure they both escaped the blizzard unscathed.
Li Wuhui calmly pondered ways out of the impasse, treating these tasks as missions she would complete even at the cost of her life.
She closed her eyelids.
She took several minutes of deep breaths.
Li Wuhui forced herself to calm down.
She tried starting the engine again—
It failed.
She exhaled a puff of white breath and pinched her thigh hard—
She tried again.
It succeeded.
Li Wuhui clenched her jaw and stepped on the accelerator.
The car lurched forward successfully, still struggling toward their destination just as before.
Snowflakes and pellets battered the windshield nonstop, like locusts madly smashing at her face.
Li Wuhui gripped the steering wheel tightly, forcing deep breaths.
But she didn’t know if it was her nerves or the worsening weather.
The car had only traveled a few hundred meters when it suddenly stalled.
Li Wuhui had no idea what was wrong.
She mechanically restarted it and tried again, but it failed once more.
The third failure.
Anxiety gripped her. She was following the steps perfectly—why wouldn’t the car obey her?
Why wouldn’t her hands and feet obey?
They trembled in small, incessant shivers.
Why had she insisted on acting tough?
Why hadn’t she practiced driving before they set out? Now she had trapped them in this mess again.
After the sixth time—when the car finally started but stalled again on the roadside due to her botched operation—
Li Wuhui, restless and irritated, pressed her cold palm to her face.
It had been fine before. Why couldn’t she handle something this simple now?
In her haste, Li Wuhui suddenly flung open the car door and stepped out.
The frigid wind instantly slashed her face like a vicious knife, carving through her bones.
Li Wuhui crouched miserably by the car.
She gasped for breath desperately, her posture identical to yesterday afternoon in the parking lot.
Like a patient whose oxygen tank had been yanked away, struggling to draw air from the world itself.
Before long, snow blanketed her shoulders, turning her into a huddled snowman.
When she was on the verge of numbness from the cold, Li Wuhui pinched her thigh viciously.
She stood up, her face expressionless.
The moment she turned around,
She suddenly caught sight of Qiu Yiran’s eyes—
The snow fell heavily now. They were stopped on an empty highway, the windows plastered white, the wipers swinging back and forth like a roly-poly toy.
Qiu Yiran lurked inside the car, barely visible.
Through the drifting snowflakes, her reddened eyes stared at her.
She had been watching her the whole time.
The instant their gazes collided—
Li Wuhui’s eyes abruptly reddened.
The snow poured down, turning the world a dismal white. Li Wuhui bowed her head, desperately suppressing her ragged breaths. It took a long, long time before she finally yanked open the car door and climbed back inside.
She feigned composure as she met eyes with Qiu Yiran in the passenger seat.
But upon contact, her own eyes reddened uncontrollably.
“Qiu Yiran.”
Li Wuhui lowered her gaze.
She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand—like a stubborn child finally admitting weakness before some colossal force, yet forcing a smile to hide her disarray and misery.
“I can’t do it.”
Four very soft words.
They hung in the quiet car interior—embarrassing and disquieting.
The cabin that night felt especially hazy, as if water vapor were rising within. Qiu Yiran laboriously lifted her head a fraction.
She seemed to struggle with speech.
She tried to smile at her, but managed only to tug faintly at the corner of her mouth before exhaling a scorching breath.
“Let’s call an ambulance.”
Li Wuhui calmly remembered there was another option.
But for some reason,
As she said it, an icy tear trickled from the corner of her eye.
She didn’t wipe it away. Instead, she looked at Qiu Yiran and said, word by word,
“I’ll call. Let the ambulance take you to the hospital.”
How ridiculous.
They had a car. She knew how to drive. Yet here she was, stalled, forced to wait for an ambulance to rescue them both.
Only then did Li Wuhui sluggishly realize—this was a role reversal too.
Just as Qiu Yiran could never carry her through the hospital doors, she could never, in a crisis like this, calmly drive a feverish Qiu Yiran to safety like a normal person.
In the past, Li Wuhui had always avoided such scenarios with iron will.
So she had rarely tasted this sort of helplessness.
And yet—
This was the constant feeling Qiu Yiran had whenever she looked her way.
“Okay.”
But now in Li Wuhui’s shoes, Qiu Yiran simply watched her quietly.
Her own eyes reddened too.
She didn’t look away, offering tolerant space for the choice, staying by her side, and telling her,
“It’s okay.”
It should have been the end of it—time to relax, no need to stay strung tight.
Yet Li Wuhui’s eyes reddened even more without reason.
“I’m fine.” Qiu Yiran kept her painful eyes open to comfort her. “We can wait a little. The ambulance will be here soon.”
Li Wuhui said nothing.
She kept her eyes stubbornly downcast.
When she finally looked up, she dialed the ambulance. She pressed the cold phone to her ear and glanced frantically out the window, trying to explain their situation calmly.
But there was a language barrier, and the signal was spotty in the heavy snow. The other end spoke Russian, broken and faint.
She couldn’t understand.
She could only repeat their predicament in English, over and over.
The line stayed confused until someone who spoke English came on.
By then, she had explained it nearly a dozen times, her tone urgent.
“I said she’s got a fever. It’s very serious.”
The other side paused obviously. “Just a fever? Any other symptoms?”
“Her fever is very serious.”
Li Wuhui sounded like an AI struggling to process commands, spitting out the words one by one.
“She’s in a lot of pain, so we need help.”
“Just a fever?”
The medic probably assumed a language mix-up and muttered something in Russian that Li Wuhui didn’t catch.
She grew inexplicably agitated anyway.
She smeared the cold sweat from her face and repeated their location and condition in English. Finally, clutching the phone, she boiled it down to,
“She’s in a lot of pain. She’s in a lot of pain. Please, come as fast as you can.”
They finally got it and explained in turn—no precise coordinates for their spot, treacherous roads in the blizzard, it might take time. Just keep the line open.
After all that effort to connect,
Li Wuhui hung up but couldn’t unwind.
She fixated on the phone signal, terrified the snow would sever it.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at Qiu Yiran.
But she needed an anchor, so she kept staring at the phone.
“Li Wuhui.”
Sensing the avoidance, Qiu Yiran insisted on speaking up from beside her.
Li Wuhui stayed silent.
She stared blankly at the phone, its blue glow lighting her face.
But even in her haze, Qiu Yiran picked up on Li Wuhui’s unease.
She stubbornly held her gaze.
True to the promise before departure, Qiu Yiran said softly,
“Even calling an ambulance for something ordinary like a fever—I wouldn’t be embarrassed.”
With that, Qiu Yiran even reached out and snatched the phone from Li Wuhui’s hand. With effort, she added, “So don’t be sad.”
Li Wuhui let the phone be taken.
She lowered her eyes again, hiding how fiercely her sockets reddened in that instant.
After several stiff seconds, she said,
“I know.”
The response eased Qiu Yiran somewhat, though her breaths came unevenly.
Li Wuhui sensed something amiss and jerked her head up. Her bitten lips parted.
“You… are you in pain?”
The words had barely left her mouth when tears slid from the corners of Li Wuhui’s eyes.
She seemed oblivious, her face gleaming with moisture amid the snow outside.
Truth be told, Qiu Yiran could barely cling to consciousness anymore—the fever stemmed from inflammation.
They were only halfway through the journey.
Her body was giving out. Her residual limb kept acting up, already worn down.
Inflammation like this triggered a cascade of reactions.
Though the amputation was three years old, she had hidden away with no means to care for herself properly. Sometimes, she had survived on this very pain.
So pain still came easily now—like the drilling agony of her period from hormonal shifts, or the neuralgic torment from inflammation.
It was a phantom pain below the residual limb, as if that missing half-leg still existed and was desperately burrowing into her stump. Even with the atrophy and mismatch, the nonexistent limb kept forcing its way in, grinding down bone and flesh in her residual limb to make it fit.
Several times, the pain had drawn physiological tears from her eyes. But once Li Wuhui looked away, she had hastily wiped them gone.
And now.
Seeing the tears trickle slowly from Li Wuhui’s reddened eye corner, she felt a sudden daze for some reason—
She reached out slowly.
Her fingers brushed Li Wuhui’s red eye corner.
Soft. Hot. Wet.
Qiu Yiran stared blankly at the moisture on her fingertip. After a long moment, she said softly,
“Li Wuhui, I made you cry again.”
Li Wuhui gazed at her.
She seemed somewhat puzzled, not quite understanding why her focus at this moment was on that matter.
Qiu Yiran laughed. “I’m pretty annoying, always making people cry for me.”
“You’re not changing the subject.” Li Wuhui stared at her, her gaze slowly drifting down to rest on her left leg.
![The Female Lead Wants Me to Take My Medicine [Quick Transmigration]](https://i0.wp.com/dobytranslations.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/09/16582110617.png?resize=151,215 "The Female Lead Wants Me to Take My Medicine [Quick Transmigration]")
