"Raising a loss, can't even manage a meal, do you want your father to starve?!"
The man was drunk, spewing filthy words all night long. Shen Zhiyi sat at the desk, her pen unconsciously leaving the book and deeply carved several marks on the edge of the table.
She stared blankly at those marks.
The next day, she went to the clinic in town to get medicine.
"You still need to drink herbal remedy for the allergy..."
Shen Zhiyi lifted the curtain and saw the young man sitting inside, and stopped short.
Pei Yu lowered his eyes, and quickly drooped his lids. He wore a black shirt today, of fine quality and clearly expensive, setting off his figure as precious as jade.
"Is Zhiyi here for medicine?" The elderly doctor obviously recognized Shen Zhiyi, "Is the anti-inflammatory medicine running out? Let me see how the wound looks."
Shen Zhiyi glanced at Pei Yu, who showed no intention of leaving.