The family doctor arrived quickly and checked on Lu Shifeng.
After setting down the medical instruments, he said, "Young master, you know your stomach isn't good, why drink so much strong alcohol? This stomach problem has been a chronic condition; you need to avoid spicy and stimulating foods. Haven't I been reminding you of this since day one?"
It truly is a stomach problem.
Su Xingyu stood by the bed, looking at Lu Shifeng's slightly gaunt profile, a faintly unhealthy hue hovering over his features in the dim light. Somewhere deep in her heart twisted inexplicably, recalling how she had taken him out for crayfish last night—perhaps he was already feeling unwell then? Maybe that's why Mrs. Gui made millet porridge for him this morning.
But he didn't tell her anything.
Her heart felt heavy as she saw the family doctor off.
She watched over him as he drank his medicine, yet he took the medicine bowl from her hand with pale, distinctly jointed fingers.
