Yang Li, who just walked down to the kitchen door, suddenly felt weak in the knees, almost kneeling.
My life is doomed—
He sneaked a glance inside and saw Lu Huashan scooping the black porridge into a bowl.
Yang Li's face changed dramatically; if he drank that bowl of porridge...
He turned and ran back to the study, hurriedly took out a bottle of stomach medicine, swallowed a few pills, and calmed his nerves.
When he came down again, he stood at the dining room door, hesitating whether to go in or not.
Maybe today, he shouldn't eat?
It looked frightening.
From the dining room came Lu Huashan's enthusiastic voice, "This porridge smells delicious, it can surely poison someone to death, it's just missing a fried egg, I'll fry it first."
"Shanshan, don't do it, let the chef handle this kind of rough work." Xia Weibao watched her clumsy movements, feeling a bit worried.
