With a clang, the cup in Feng Wuya's hand fell to the ground.
This was already the second cup he had broken tonight.
Sitting across and drinking tea, Murong Yu frowned, staring at her obviously distracted son, "What's going on? What are you thinking about?"
Feng Wuya was startled and shook his head.
In fact, he didn't even know what he was thinking.
"Wuya, you've been out of sorts these past two days, are you feeling unwell again?"
A mother's greatest concern was always her son's health.
Although Chu Qianli had operated on him before, and it was very successful, it was still a heart condition after all; no one knew if there could be any complications after the successful surgery.
Feng Wuya continued to shake his head, his voice indifferent, "Mother, I'm fine."
Murong Yu studied his face. A mother knows her child best, and her son, since he was small, was not the type to hide his thoughts. Whatever he was thinking, it was almost always evident on his face.