"Ah… come on in, young man. Sit down with this old man; let's have a good drink and chat a bit," Ma Zhenwu said, gesturing with a thin hand toward an empty chair in the corner of the hospital room.
He was reclining in bed, his face still a little pale, but his eyes were as lively and good-humored as ever.
Qingyi didn't hesitate. With a gentle pull of his Qi, the chair glided across the floor and came to a stop beside the bed. He sat down next to Ma Zhenwu, settling Lingxi comfortably on his lap.
With a wave of his hand, a bottle of liquor appeared in the air before him, floating alongside two glasses.
Guided by his Qi, the bottle tilted slowly.
The liquor poured out with a soft gurgle, filling both glasses, and its strong, sweet aroma spread through the room, easily overpowering the faint smell of medicinal herbs.
Qingyi took one glass for himself and handed the other to Ma Zhenwu.
