Mu Qingxuan watched those two familiar yet nauseating figures, her temples throbbing with each pulse.
Memories flooded back like a tide.
When she was seven, she had huddled by the stove with a high fever, her body burning as if she were melting. Sun Qiumei had been cradling her younger brother, feeding him egg custard, while muttering, "If a girl gets sick, she’ll pull through on her own. These eggs are to build up her brother's health." Mu Dashan had sat before the table, nursing cheap white liquor with peanuts, completely indifferent to her misery.
Chapter 65