As usual, Isabel Smith pulled up a chair next to Percy Stanton's bed, sat down, picked up the medicine bowl, stirred it with a spoon a couple of times, and looked up at Percy with a soft voice, "What you think doesn't matter, what matters is what the doctor thinks. The doctor said you are still in the recovery period, so you must get better. The medicine is bitter now, but close your eyes, drink it, and everything will be fine."
Percy's eyebrows relaxed a bit, but his words were still a bit dull, "Drinking this medicine every day makes even my breath taste bitter."
"Really?" Isabel leaned in close to Percy's face, sniffed with her nose, and said, "I can't smell it. Open your mouth and let me smell it."
Percy opened his mouth with an "ah," and Isabel quickly shoved the spoonful of medicinal juice into Percy's mouth, then put the spoon back into the bowl, raised Percy's chin with her hand, and let the medicine in his mouth slurp all the way down his throat.