Chapter 194



Ever since my parents passed away, I never complained about the bitterness of medicine again. Without them, there was no more rock sugar to sweeten the deal for me. I hadn't tasted rock sugar since.

"It's really sweet," Ernest whispered, lifting a piece of rock sugar to my lips as if to tempt me.

Reluctantly, I opened my mouth, but as the sugar touched my tongue, tears welled up in my eyes and spilled over.

"Why are you crying now?" He cleaned my tears with his hands.

His words only made my heart heavier, my tears harder to stop.

Ernest couldn't keep up, eventually taking the glass from my hand and squeezing my hand gently, "If the medicine's too bitter, we'll skip it."

He walked away, and I buried my face in my palms...

After crying for a while, I felt much better. The thermometer tucked under my arm beeped, signaling it was done.

I checked it: 101.2°F. Definitely a fever.

Ernest reappeared, holding a towel, seemingly wrapping something inside.

some ice to cool you down first, then you should drink some warm water. If your temperature drops,

ice on my forehead, his voice soft, "Close your eyes

I heard the flick of a lighter, followed by the smell of alcohol burning in

my palm; Ernest was rubbing my hand, a sudden heat that made

had used it on me when

was a bit frightening, having to rub your hands together

as he rubbed my left hand, then my right. Just

instinctively pulled away,

usually so brave,

down, and now

me touching

words caught me

down, tuning everything out. Yet, his words

then, so I

feet felt ticklish, a warmth that pierced

brought

were stil around warming my heart yet

a bit. I made some porridge. Have some when you wake

at his retreating figure, "Did you

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