A book was thrown from the tent, bang, hitting Amu on the forehead.
"Shut up or get the hell out."
Lu Xingye sat cross-legged on the bedding, with an ultra-thin laptop on his lap, the light from the screen reflecting on his face.
His enchantingly soft and handsome face showed a slightly morbid paleness, and his voice was hoarse, "Pour me a glass of water."
Amu obediently kept silent, poured a cup of warm water, and then took out his medication from the luggage, handing both over to Lu Xingye with both hands.
After taking his medication, Lu Xingye continued to work on his computer. Amu wanted to urge him to rest earlier, but seeing his condition, he dared not speak up and disturb him.
Without much choice, Amu sat beside him and sneakily glanced at the computer screen, noticing he was in contact with Qixuan.
"Young Master, why are you contacting Qixuan?" Amu asked.
