"Oh, I can't accept this."

"What's there to be embarrassed about? We're relatives."

"I'm so sorry to bother you, Mr. Lu. I'll just find a hotel to stay at."

"Oh dear, but there's no village or shop around here, so there's really no suitable hotel."

"What about places that are even further away?"

The man looked increasingly aggrieved: "The car is almost out of gas, it can't go more than a few miles."

"I can take a taxi myself..."

"Ouch!" The man suddenly clutched his stomach, his face contorted in pain. Tong Su asked anxiously what was wrong. He feigned pain and waved his hand weakly, "I have a stomach ailment. I didn't eat lunch today, and it flared up again... You can take a taxi if you want, but I'm home alone. In my current state, I really can't help you..."

Tong Su held the man's shoulder, her lips pursed in worry: "You're in this state, how can you say you're helping me? Do you have any stomach medicine? Where's the nearest hospital? I'll take you there."

"No need, no need. My apartment is just ahead. I'll just go back, have some hot water, and take a nap."

"Just drinking hot water won't do! Can you even drive now? How about I take you home? You should at least have some millet porridge!"

“It’s that neighborhood over there…” The man looked at her pitifully, his face pale as if from the pain. “I don’t know how to make millet porridge, I just drink hot water. My stomach problems are chronic, I always just drink hot water…”

"Aren't you being ridiculous!" she said, both angry and worried. She sighed, "I'll take you home and cook you some porridge."

The man immediately perked up: "Okay!"

The small apartment that Lu Zhiyang mentioned is actually not small at all; it has four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and an open-air balcony.

The house was clean but cold. It was a well-decorated apartment with brand-new furniture. It was cleaned regularly and there wasn't a speck of dust. However, the owner didn't live there for many years, so there was no sense of home in it. Instead, it felt like a long-stay room in a hotel.

As soon as the man got home, he slumped on the sofa, groaning and clutching his stomach, looking like he was in so much pain he could barely stand. Tongsu wanted to find him some stomach medicine, but where in the house could she find any?

She said she was going downstairs to buy some "medicine," but he made excuses, saying that the owner of the nearby "pharmacy" was heartless and that the "medicine" he sold was ineffective and a waste of time; she might as well just drink some porridge.

"Could you order some takeout for me?" he asked weakly, his expression harmless yet pitiful.

"Eat less takeout; there are too many additives in it. Let me make you something."

"Really? That's great, thank you!" He smiled gratefully and happily. "If it weren't for you, I would have fainted in the car from the pain. I'm so grateful to you today."

"It's okay, you helped me before."

Tongsu boiled water for him, took out the millet she had packed from her suitcase, and went into the kitchen to cook porridge.

Fortunately, the kitchen was still fully stocked, and the ingredients in the refrigerator were changed daily. She selected a few light yet nutritious ingredients and made a nourishing dinner.

The ingredients were simple, but Ke Tong's cooking skills were superb. The man ate with great relish, his eyes shining, and he didn't look like a patient at all.

After dinner, Lu Zhiyang seemed to be feeling much better. When Tong Su wanted to wash the dishes, he had the strength to stop her and insisted on doing it himself.

Seeing that he was much better, Tongsu said goodbye. Unexpectedly, Lu Zhiyang turned around, clutched his stomach, and cried out, collapsing into a chair.

"It's okay, you can go now. I'll put my phone by my bedside tonight. If the pain gets really bad, I'll just call 120 myself..."