"Crack!" the sound echoed.
It startled Qin Yao, who was on the rooftop.
Seeing that Gongliang Liao was entirely unresponsive, like a dead man impervious to any words, Sikong Jian angrily smashed the medicine bowl.
Sun Jiang cautiously inquired from outside the door, "Sir?"
The door opened, and Sikong Jian coldly ordered, "Nothing's wrong, just have someone come in and clean up."
Sun Jiang quickly directed two servants at the door to enter, then cautiously asked again, "Sir, there is more medicine. Shall I continue to serve the teacher with it?"
Sikong Jian nodded, stood by the door, then looked up at the blue sky and white clouds outside the eaves. In the early summer, such a beautiful time, his teacher used to love taking him to the countryside to drink wine and test him on his studies.
From a young age, he loved Laozi and Zhuangzi, priding himself that no one understood non-action better than he did.
