The Flower Princess, Volume 1

The man who disliked being pampered, the one who deliberately retreated to the forest, sat leaning against the headboard, his face contorted in a frown, his thick eyebrows almost tied in a knot above his nose. He wasn’t seriously ill; he might have had a fever last night, but it had subsided by late morning. He was utterly bored of being confined to bed. His sharp, stern eyes glared at the door, waiting for someone who should have been there first thing in the morning but hadn’t. Someone who had confidently promised to bring him a lunchbox. It was almost noon, and there was still no sign of them. He sighed for the hundredth time in weariness and swung his feet as if to get out of bed. Enough… he’d had enough. He’d rather go home and demand the lunchbox.
“Oh… where are you going, sir?”
the nurse asked as she entered, holding a thermometer and blood pressure monitor.
“I’m going back. I’m all better.”
“Shouldn’t you wait for the doctor? I’ll go get him.”
“I’m not that sick, just a small fever… I still have a lot of work to do. Please inform the doctor that I will…”
Aishur quickly climbed back into bed, pulling the thin, ivory blanket up to his chest and squeezing his eyes shut. The nurse gasped, “
Oh?” She scratched her head in confusion. “Nurse?”
a voice called from the doorway, causing her to turn. She saw a young woman, about her age, wearing a burgundy shirt and black trousers, smiling and holding a large stack of food containers.
“I’ve come to visit the patient,”
the woman said. “Khun Chai Aisoon? I heard you said earlier…”
“Panan, you’re here?”
a hoarse voice said, accompanied by several coughs. The man on the bed seemed to have just woken up, sitting up and touching his temples as if dizzy.
“Yes, good morning, Khun
Chai,” Panan greeted the nurse with a respectful bow and a sweet smile. The nurse understood why the man who had been begging to go home had suddenly jumped onto the bed. She simply smiled and walked to the bed, watching the beautiful woman unpack the food containers and hand the patient a thermometer. She inwardly scoffed, “
Who said women are all cunning? Even men are no different.”

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