Yang Qingheng didn't know whether she was more angry or anxious. She took some hot water and fed it to him, her movements practiced as if she had done it a thousand times.
He almost got stomach cancer in his past life, and he's still like this in this life. He won't eat the food I bring him. He deserves it!
This is the consequence of messing around with a vixen!
Thinking about how he threw all the bento boxes she had carefully prepared into the trash can, Yang Qingheng wished she could just leave him there.
"Let's go to the hospital!"
She kicked him in the shin.
Song Hengjue let out a muffled groan, his eyes suddenly regaining their clarity. He grabbed Yang Qingheng's wrist, his dark eyes fixed on hers: "Why do you think I have a stomachache?"
He hadn't done anything, so why did Yang Qingheng think he had a stomachache? Why did her actions always give him a sense of unease?
How could nineteen-year-old Yang Qingheng know about antique vases? And why is she suddenly making a scene and refusing to divorce him?
The answer in my heart was about to emerge.
Yang Qingheng frowned, finding his behavior utterly baffling: "With your habit of skipping breakfast every day, what else could hurt but your stomach? Get up and go to the hospital right now!"
Dissatisfied with her answer, Song Hengjue gripped her wrist tightly and wouldn't let go.
Yang Qingheng was annoyed and pulled him forcefully.
"Ah!" She tripped over the bed leg and stumbled, falling towards Song Hengjue.
The door opened in response.
Li Qiqi stared at the two people embracing on the bed, paused, and her face instantly turned as red as a persimmon.
She quickly turned around: "I didn't mean to, I just saw your door wasn't closed..."
Yang Qingheng was annoyed. She pushed Song Hengjue away and stood up. "It's nothing. We just tripped. Tell me what's wrong."
Li Qiongqi blushed, her eyes avoiding looking into the room, and hesitated before speaking.
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