“Neither of them works.” Han Siqi says and goes to the kitchen, opens a small pot, pours a bag of powder into the tremella soup and stirs it with a spoon. Seeing that Fu Zhengzheng is looking at him with wide eyes, he pretends to pick up a bowl, saying, “Medicine soup, would you like some?”

“No, thanks.” Fu Zhengzheng shakes her hands and goes out, and then can’t help looking back. She vaguely feels that Han Siqi’s behavior is somewhat ...