Zhang Jiren groaned as he dragged himself to the kitchen of his penthouse, his eyesight a bit blurry as his head was pounding very badly. Damn it, why did it feel like the distance between his bedroom and the kitchen was too far. The moment he came home after work, his fever shot up, making him feel miserable.
Now, his throat felt dry and aching. He so desperately wanted to drink something to quench his thirst. Zhang Jiren had fallen asleep instantly the moment he laid down on his bed. However, he suddenly woke up feeling worse than he did.
As he reached his kitchen, he pulled out a bottle of water from his fridge and took some medicines to lower his fever. Hopefully, he would get better soon because he didn't think his workload would be able to wait for him to recover. They would only pile up if he slows down at work.
