After leaving the restaurant, the two drove to the dessert shop near the Central Academy of Fine Arts.
It was afternoon. The sunlight slanted through the glass window, casting a bright streak across the white tablecloth.
Chang Xuyu reached out to touch the light, her fingertips faintly reddening in the warmth. She sat in the wheelchair, a light gray blanket draped over her knees.
"Are you determined to wrap me up like a zongzi before you're satisfied..." Chang Xuyu looked down at the windbreaker she was wearing—clearly a size too large—and spoke flatly, but the corners of her lips curved slightly.
Yuan Zixu walked over carrying a plate of tiramisu. At those words, she set the plate on the table and handed the fork to her: "Less talk. With your body right now, what if you catch a cold? Whether those lab drugs of Song Shuheng's work or not is still up in the air. I don't want anything to happen to you."
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