Clearly speaking the truth, Yu Tingwan still managed to upset Wei Zhao.
Wei Zhao no longer spoke to her, even tugging the quilt from her grasp and pulling it under himself, closing his eyes and ignoring her.
This was a serious matter.
However... Yu Tingwan didn't care.
She sat at the head of the bed, poking Wei Zhao's back with her finger.
"How many times have you coughed up blood?"
Wei Zhao let out a muffled grunt.
He lifted his eyelids, his eyes revealing no emotion: "You..."
The last time he said she was poor, Wei Zhao had this same expression!
It was an unpleasant memory.
Thinking about it now still made her sad.
Yu Tingwan frowned, interrupting, "If it's something unpleasant, you might as well not say it."
She added, "Coughing up blood is no trivial matter, how can you hide it from Aunt and Uncle?"
Wei Zhao didn't respond.
