Based on Jiang Yun's current condition, the three daily doses add up to more than ten pills, which indirectly shows how serious her illness is.
Lowering her eyes to look at that palm-sized kraft paper bag, Jiang Yun opened it as if it were routine, shook a few white tablets into her palm, and half-smiling, half-not showed them to Bo Jinghang: "You turned me into this. Do you regret it, even a little?"
Bo Jinghang's fine-looking brows lifted slightly.
He seemed unsure how to face Jiang Yun's accusation; his thin lips pressed into a line, and he stayed silent, not answering.
That attitude left Jiang Yun utterly disheartened. Her thin fingers wrapped around the cold glass, she slapped the pills from her palm into her mouth, secretly pressed them under her tongue, tipped her head back and took a big gulp of water, maintaining her previous blank expression.
"Clack."
