"Shiche, the medication will make you feel nauseous no matter what you eat, and it might last for half a month. You can't have any greasy foods, not even a little. I'll arrange for someone to give you nutritional supplements every day."
"Additionally, the doctor suggested half a year of isolated treatment, but the possibility of a complete cure... is almost zero, so I've already declined it for you. I know you'd rather go home, Shiche. Go home."
"I've been to see Mo Qingshan these past few days. He said there's no antidote, he said... it has nothing to do with him if you die."
A cold, mocking smile curled at the corner of his mouth.
It really had nothing to do with him, indeed.
Mo Shiche bent over to steady himself for a while, then straightened up to rinse his mouth and wash his face, then changed his clothes.
The doorbell rang just as he was coming downstairs.
The servant went to open the door.
Yan Chu walked into the entryway.
