Xing Ling went downstairs, out the door, and indeed saw Ye Sihan sitting on a bench in the distance.
As she approached him, she was unhappy, "Why aren't you resting in your room with your injury?"
Ye Sihan lifted his face to look at her, his calm demeanor appearing innocent.
Xing Ling pursed her lips, "What's making you uncomfortable? It's not that your wound has opened up, is it?"
"I don't know."
"I'll call the doctor to come over," Xing Ling turned around to leave.
Her hand was suddenly grasped, freezing her in place.
"Will you stay with me?" Ye Sihan's voice was rather pleading.
Xing Ling pulled her hand back, turning away with a resistant look on her face.
"I'm here alone, and I only know you."
At that moment, a maid came over with a porcelain bowl in hand, "Mr. Ye, here is your medicinal soup."
As the maid passed by Xing Ling, she smelled the scent of the medicine, "What is this for?"
The maid was about to speak when Ye Sihan cut in, "It's for replenishing the body."