In the hospital ward, Shang Jianghan was not having an easy time. A spoonful of porridge, cooled to just the right temperature by his wife and fed to him, should have been a beautiful moment.
But the taste made him frown.
The girl in front of him persisted in feeding him half a bowl as if she didn't notice.
It was not recommended to eat too much for the first meal after surgery, so Shen Chaoxi took away the bowl and was just about to get up when her wrist was grabbed.
"Are you angry?" the man's voice was low and weak, seemingly tinged with a coaxing tone.
Hold a grudge against a weak patient?
Shen Chaoxi wasn't that heartless. Although she had gotten upset when she woke up in the morning and thought about the incident, her main feeling was still one of concern.
"No," Shen Chaoxi sat back down and started to straighten the man's slightly disheveled, oversized hospital gown with her other hand.
The man's face was deathly pale, and his breath was clearly weak.