A Bowl of Porridge

Ning Li knocked on the door.

Knock, knock.

Shen Zhijin came back to his senses and looked up.

"Teacher Shen."

Ning Li walked over. Lu Huaiyu followed behind her and placed a thermos on the bedside table.

Ning Li said, "This is some porridge that I cooked for you. I hope you will have some."

Shen Zhijin's gaze swept over the thermos and nodded lightly.

"Thank you."

His expression looked calm and indifferent, as if all the vulnerability and silent aura that surrounded him as he stared at the watch earlier had only been an illusion.

Lu Huaiyu opened the thermos bucket before Ning Li scooped out a bowl of porridge and handed it to Shen Zhijin.

Shen Zhijin smiled faintly.

"It's just a small injury. There's no need for so much fuss."

The wound was ten centimeters long and it was very deep. How could it be considered a small injury?

Ning Li pursed her lips.

"You saved me. This is what I should do."