It was nearly seven in the evening when Yan Feifan's group of four returned to their residence at Zuimo Court from Jingcheng.
They were tired, hungry, and thirsty, but fortunately, Du Qiu had prepared a rather sumptuous dinner.
In addition, a guest had come over to bum a meal—Wang Chuan!
"Mr. Wang, you're just in time. I have something important to tell you."
As soon as she saw him, Yan Ziruo, as if she had just found her rock, rattled on about the results of Mr. Yu's pulse diagnosis for Yan Feifan.
She said worriedly, "Mr. Wang, 'an oil lamp about to run dry.' Just listen to how scary that sounds! Feifan is only twenty-five."
"Mr. Wang, tell me, what are we going to do?"
Yan Feifan quickly tried to defend himself. "Mr. Wang, don't listen to my sister's exaggerations. It's not as scary as she's making it sound."
"I'll just be more careful from now on and get more exercise."
"Besides, Mr. Yu prescribed me many doses of Chinese medicine."
