Zhuang Hong looked at Cen Shuang. She was holding a bowl of Chinese medicine. He was not in a good mood. "I'm not drinking it!"
The color of the medicine did not look good, and he knew that the taste would not be much better. Moreover, he was afraid that it would poison him.
Cen Shuang saw that Zhuang Hong was not eager to drink it. "This is good medicine. I've gotten the prescription from an established Chinese doctor. It's not something that I just grabbed for you."
Although she was not skilled in the kitchen, and this medicine did indeed taste strange, at least she made it. If Zhuang Hong did not drink it, it would be a waste of her good intentions. She quickly brought the bowl to him. "It's just that it does not taste very good. I guarantee that it won't kill you."
Zhuang Hong rubbed the space between his eyebrows helplessly and asked, "What is it for?"
