The noise outside was quite something, reaching Wei Zhao's ears indoors.
These days, he was especially lethargic, as if to make up for all the nights he had stayed awake from pain and spitting blood, tossing and turning till dawn.
Smoke from the incense burner spiraled and spread into every corner, the aroma was from high-grade Calming Incense, fresh and elegant to the nose.
He lifted his eyelids, straightened up, got off the bed slowly, washed up, then went over to the wooden table, and took out the porridge kept warm in the food box.
The porridge was fragrant, cooked in half a day's chicken broth.
But after taking so much medicine, his mouth felt tasteless, and Wei Zhao emotionlessly scooped it into his mouth.
He wasn't in a hurry to go out, deliberately letting Yu Tingwan and Old Master Sun exchange pleasantries. After so many years apart, they must have a lot to say.
After eating a few bites, there were two or three knocks at the back window.
Two light, one heavy.
