Qinghe's heart fluttered with a trace of emotion when he thought of the words he and his wife had said in the yard this morning, that they would let him starve to death without intervening.
That rising flicker of emotion was once again suppressed by a cold greyness.
After finishing the medicine, Xiao Yuchuan put the medicine bowl on the table, "I'll go warm up the porridge for you…"
"No need to trouble yourself, cold is fine," Qinghe declined with a shake of his head.
Xiao Yuchuan, feeling a pang of heartache for his Fourth Brother, still went to the kitchen, warmed the porridge over the stove, and brought it back to the room.
Outside in the yard, Su Qingyue saw Third Brother carrying the warmed porridge and felt wise in her approach.
She couldn't let Fourth Brother die.
Otherwise, Third Brother would certainly be guilt-stricken for a lifetime.
