The familiar voice quickly calmed An Ying, and she slowly lifted the quilt.
"There's also a bowl of hot soup, have some first."
There was a movable wooden table beside the bed. Auntie Zhang placed the food on it one by one, pushed it to the bedside, and ladled out a bowl of soup.
"Thank you."
Faced with Auntie Zhang's meticulous care, An Ying felt undeserving.
Auntie Zhang was very satisfied to see her bowing her head and obediently drinking the soup.
After all, An Ying was not a child; she always cooperated with anything that was good for her, making her the ideal patient for Auntie Zhang to deal with.
At this moment, Auntie Zhang felt that something was amiss with An Ying but couldn't pinpoint it after careful thought, maybe it was just her imagination!
An Ying didn't have much appetite; she usually lost her hunger after being seventy percent full.
When she finished eating, a nurse came to clean up the dishes.
