The night was deep and quiet.
Tan Garden, the master bedroom on the second floor.
Yu Chiyin lay on one side of the large bed, his ink-black eyes tightly closed, a pained expression on his pale, handsome face, his thin lips pressed firmly together.
Following his arm, one could see a needle hanging on the back of his hand, with a movable IV drip stand standing by the bed.
"Click, click."
The rhythmic sound of flipping pages echoed.
On a sofa set near the bed, a carefree man was seated—the sound originated from his hands.
He appeared to be only in his mid to late twenties, with an ethereal handsomeness, distinct features, and a cross-shaped diamond earring on his left ear that glittered with every movement.
The door opened, and the butler, Lin, walked in from outside, first glancing at the slumbering Yu Chiyin on the bed, then moving toward the sofa.
"Doctor Jiu, here are the fruits you requested, freshly picked from the organic farm," said Lin.
