Admitting the Artist’s Truth
It was the next day.
Yujia had a bowl of medicine in one hand, a spoon in her other. She sat at her master's bedside, stirring the medicine. Sunlight streamed through the paper windows. Her master was propped up against the pole of the bed.
While she stirred the medicine, her master observed her movements, saying, "I can drink medicine by myself."
Yujia shook her head, her lips flattening into a thin line. "The medicine is still too hot; I don't want you to accidentally spill it over yourself."
"You act like I'm absolutely incapable of anything," her master snorted. "I haven't gotten weak enough to that point."
But still, he didn't make any motions to take the medicine from her. Yujia continued stirring, waiting for the liquid to cool.
Softly, she asked, "Did you not drink your medicine on time before?"
"It was always a hassle to remember," he replied, looking away.
"But now you will, right?" she continued.