The boy was about fourteen or fifteen years old, with withered hair and obvious malnutrition on his face, but his eyes were particularly sincere. As he spoke, he walked quickly to the bedside, carefully helped Su Jingchen up, and then turned around and took over a cracked rough porcelain bowl on the table. The bowl was half filled with turbid water, with a few unknown blades of grass floating in it.
"Sir, please drink slowly. This is the herbal water I made for you. The doctor said drinking it can reduce fever." The young man carefully handed the bowl to Su Jingchen's mouth, his tone full of concern.
Su Jingchen looked at the young man in front of him, then at the bowl of turbid herbal water, his mind went blank. Young Master? Small? Herbal water? What the hell is going on? Isn't he working on a manuscript in a rental house? Why are you here? Are you still called "Young Master"?
Could it be... Time travel?
