Mrs. Wang was very efficient, and by 10:30 the next morning, she had already had a top-notch Guzheng delivered.
At that moment, Lin Qingya sat in front of Han Yu's hospital bed, with a porcelain bowl in her hand, spooning small sips of millet porridge carefully into the unconscious man's mouth.
Although Han Yu was in a coma, his body's instincts were still present. Especially since Qingya had fed him water mouth to mouth the night before, his bodily functions had improved substantially, allowing him to swallow slowly.
Lin Qingya had never tended to someone else so meticulously her entire life. She was patient, scooping a spoonful, blowing on it twice, then gently touching the spoon's edge with her red lips to make sure it wasn't too hot before guiding the millet porridge into Han Yu's mouth.
Mrs. Wang had wanted to help, but upon seeing Lin Qingya feed Han Yu the porridge with a gaze that seemed to be pulling threads, she decisively backed out.
