It didn’t take long for a maid to bring in the freshly-made medicine. Yan Xiaohan took it and brought it over to Fu Shen, giving only one, unquestionable order. “Drink.”


    Fu Shen stared dejectedly at the medicinal soup that had steam roiling off of it, silently cursing his luck.


    Yan Xiaohan didn’t know how to react to that look. “If you weren’t lame, Marquis, would you currently be in this room?” he couldn’t hold back his malicious ridicule.