The spacious hospital room suddenly filled with a faint aroma, appetizing and tantalizing.
She turned her head to look at Yu Lingqian, "Young Master Yu, come and see if this suits your taste."
Yu Lingqian turned and sat down on the sofa, his gaze inadvertently fell on her hand, and he furrowed his brows, "What's wrong with your hand?"
Mu Anran passed the meal to him, not particularly concerned, "Oh, I accidentally cut it while chopping vegetables."
Yu Lingqian's face grew even grimmer, "And your arm?"
Mu Anran stuck out her tongue, "I accidentally splashed some oil on it, but it's fine."
Seeing him frown deeply, she smiled, "Young Master Yu, don't look so stern, try this."
She ladled a small bowl of soup and handed it to him.
It was a bowl of chicken soup, made with not too many ingredients, its light and clear fragrance wafting over. Yu Lingqian took a small sip, and his knit brows relaxed a bit.
