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.

down first, then you should drink some warm water. If your temperature drops, we won't bother with

forehead, his voice soft, "Close your eyes and

told, but soon I heard the flick of a lighter, followed

warmth spread in my palm; Ernest was rubbing my hand, a sudden heat that made me flinch. "I'm using alcohol to bring

my dad had used it on me

frightening, having to rub your hands together

rubbed my left hand, then my right. Just when

instinctively pulled away, refusing, "No

usually so brave, even

me down,

touching your

caught me off

everything out. Yet, his words made it clear:

so

rubbing the soles of my feet felt ticklish, a warmth that pierced straight

brought back

stil around warming my heart yet filling it with sadness, drawing tears down

made some porridge. Have some when you wake

I looked at his retreating figure, "Did

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