Song Xiang soaked the rice and cooked a pot of glutinous rice mixed with rice porridge. He relied entirely on the equipment and the result was gratifying.
As expected, the first pot of egg pancakes failed. She added water and eggs again, and the second pot succeeded.
Yan Han probably didn't expect her to succeed so easily. When he saw the cakes and porridge, he still wanted to find faults, but in the end, he lacked the language to find faults.
The most important thing is that he is indeed so hungry that he feels dizzy. If he has something to import, it would be nice if he doesn't wolf it down.
Song Xiang was sitting next to him, and the atmosphere was so harmonious.
Yan Han drank two bowls of porridge and finished a plate of cakes.
"Do you want more?"
Yan Han: "I want a bowl of porridge."
Song Xiang shook his head, "You can't eat it."
Yan Yanhan glanced at her sideways, "Did you eat your rice?"
Song Xiang put away the dishes, took away the small table, and glanced at the clock on the wall, "If nothing else happens, will you have to vomit out what you just ate?"
Yan Han frowned, not understanding what she meant.
Song Xiang: "I asked the doctor, local anesthesia also has a reaction, the most intuitive thing is vomiting."
Yan Han already felt sick to his stomach, but when she said this, his dizziness and nausea instantly doubled, and he almost vomited on the spot.
He made a fist with one hand, touched his forehead with his knuckles, and felt the hot temperature.
"Give me a glass of ice water."
Song Xiang thought you were an idiot and drank ice water if you had a fever.
"I'll give you some warm water."
He gave her a stern cold look, thinking that she was nosy and verbose.
Song Xiang didn't care, she just wanted Yan Han to recover quickly and for them to draw a clear line again.
She poured a glass of warm water, Yan Han took a sip and was not happy to drink it, and put it on the bedside.
"It's eleven o'clock, why don't you go back to your room?"
Song Xiang pulled out the chair and sat down far away from Yan Han, "I'll wait for you to finish vomiting."
Yan Han frowned, his words didn't sound like concern, but more like a curse.
He glanced at Song Xiang's outfit, understood her intention to be fully armed, and turned away with disdain.
After a few minutes, he suddenly said: "What does your shampoo smell like? It gives me a headache."
Song Xiang blinked, "Rose."
Yan Han frowned and wanted to open up some air circulation. Suddenly he heard the word "rose" and suddenly thought of Bo Zhan's words.
"I remember the smell of her shampoo."
"It's a rose."
His gaze tightened and fell firmly on Song Xiang's face.
"You also went to the hot springs last night."
Song Xiang is a very perceptive person, and he can think of many things in just two sentences. He hesitated for a moment, and then said: "Ang, I went, but there was a power outage on the way."
She originally thought it was Yan Han who was responsible, but now it seemed like he didn't know anything about it.
"There's a power outage, what happens next?" Yan Han's face was expressionless and his tone was cold.
Song Xiang's tone was casual, without revealing anything strange, "Then he followed the crowd out."
As she spoke, she brushed away the broken hair on her cheeks and whispered: "Is it smoky? It's my first time to use it, and I think it's pretty good."
The first time I use it, then the person last night was not her.
Yan Han's gaze stayed for a few seconds, then he moved away, raised his head and closed his eyes, quietly recuperating.
Song Xiang secretly breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that she didn't often use rose shampoo and had only used it a few times recently.
They returned to a state of silence.
Song Xiang went to his room to get a notebook and flipped through Yue Ji's information.
Yan Han was leaning on the bedside, tossing back and forth from fatigue and dizziness, and he couldn't fall asleep at all.
Song Xiang was right, the anesthesia did have staying power, and it was rising bit by bit, making people feel that there was no end.
"Song Xiang."
Song Xiang heard the sound and quickly raised his head, "What's wrong?"
Yan Han frowned and said, "Come here."
Song Xiang did not hesitate. She was not afraid at all of Yan Han's current state.
Walking to the bed, Yan Han suddenly lay down on his side, closed his eyes, and "pressed his head."
Song Xiang understood that this guy was dizzy and asked her to massage him.
She sat down on the edge of the bed, just high enough to raise her hand, put her fingertips on the man's temple, and pressed back and forth gently.
Probably because the effect was not good, Yan Han's brows furrowed deeper and deeper, and his feeling of depression between breaths became more and more serious.
Song Xiang tested the temperature on his forehead, but it did not drop significantly.
Yan Han: "If I are executed by you, you will be buried with me."
Song Xiang curled his lips, you committed suicide and wanted to go home, do you blame me?
She didn't refute, but the next second, Yan Han suddenly opened his eyes and quickly sat down from the bed.
Song Xiang was startled, and before she could ask any more questions, Yan Han had already strode down and headed straight to the bathroom.
The postoperative reaction was delayed but arrived.
Song Xiang wanted to go in, but Yan Han shouted, "Don't come in!"
Just after he finished yelling, there was a sound of vomiting.
Song Xiang stood at the door and could imagine the scene, and then, Yan Han opened all the faucets inside.
The water was so loud that she couldn't hear the sound of vomiting.
What a delicate boy, you have to care about your image at times like this.
Song Xiang complained in her heart and paced back and forth in the room. After thinking about it, she decided to go out and call the doctor.
Just after making the call, another voice came from the room, "Song Xiang!"
She trotted back, opened the bathroom door, and Yan Han sat on the marble floor with her upper body naked and an ugly face, looking completely exhausted.