"Ahem..."
He coughed lightly, feeling a bit awkward, and reached out to take the bowl. To cover his embarrassment, he didn't let Zhiwei feed him but lowered his head to take a sip himself.
The spirit porridge was warm and fragrant, slipping into his stomach and transforming into a stream of warmth.
"The master knows now." His voice softened, "The master was a bit unsettled, overthinking things."
Zhiwei saw his expression relax and finally felt at ease, quietly kneeling beside him and watching him drink the porridge.
After finishing the bowl of spirit porridge, Chen Ye felt much better all over.
Man is iron, rice is steel.
Even as an immortal cultivator, eating still brings enjoyment.
"Alright, the master's feeling much better."
"Master, should you rest a bit more?" Zhiwei retrieved the empty bowl.
"No need."
Chen Ye shook his head, his expression firm,
