Shang Pu stared at the bowl of pitch-black medicinal liquid in front of him, his thin lips pressed into a straight line, not reaching out to take it for a long time.
Meiniang's hand trembled slightly as she softly said, "Langjun, it's cold, you should drink it while it's hot."
Shang Pu glanced at her and said, "Seeing this medicine reminds me that the end of the month is near."
He took the medicine from the tray and drank it all in one gulp, the bitterness and indescribable taste rushing straight to his stomach, almost making him gag. He merely furrowed his brow slightly, calmly took a candied fruit from the small dish on the tray, and put it in his mouth, as if he was already accustomed to it.
Meiniang let out a breath, put the tray aside, and noticed that he was already standing by the open window, his figure thin and frail, evoking a sense of pity.
