The sun rose from the east, the morning glow like splendid brocade.
Shen Yan's hair, wet with dew, was still fixed on the tent without blinking; her once tender and moist cheeks were now swollen with numerous mosquito bites.
"Damn it, that bastard didn't just sit there and die, did he?"
Shen Yan cursed under her breath. Logically, even a seated person would fall over if they died, but Tang Ming's shadow hadn't moved at all, making Shen Yan hesitant to check. If he wasn't dead, it would be her bad luck.
While Shen Yan was caught in her dilemma about whether to check or not, the tent flap was pulled open, and an invigorated Tang Ming came out, stretching languidly and exclaiming with satisfaction, "Maca Powder from dead flies is really the best, rejuvenating, brilliant!"
"He's seriously not dead?!"
Shen Yan's eyes bulged in disbelief as she stared at Tang Ming, feeling an urge to cry. She had spent the whole night feeding mosquitoes, only for it to end like this.