"Huh? You're actually giving it to me?"
Sun Hang picked up the cup of coffee—the cup was exquisite, made of bone china with ice crack patterns. The rim of the cup was lined with a circle of gold, and the coffee inside was filled to eight tenths full, with a small ring of fine foam clinging to the inner walls.
Sun Hang brought the cup to his nose and sniffed. A rich, burnt aroma entered his nostrils, but amidst this aroma, there was a faint, almost indiscernible smell of blood.
"Drinking this might make you question life itself, with the runs," Sun Hang muttered as he stood up and walked over to the figure labeled "Bing Six Three Four," "How about this: I think your stomach can handle it, why don't you drink it for me?"
With that, Sun Hang gripped the hair on "Bing Six Three Four," lifted it from its tattered humanoid form, and used four mycelial threads to force its mouth open, pouring the entire cup of coffee inside.
