Carriage No. 16 still didn't have a single camera; the sickbed by the window had almost become He Jie's dedicated spot, where he spent more time lying each month than at home.
Wrapped up like a mummy, He Jie lay on the bed, casting a sidelong glance at the two young people sitting beside him.
Qu Hang was peeling a black-skinned fruit, and with a few swift maneuvers, the pale yellow flesh was out. He then sliced it with a small knife, skewered a piece, and brought it to his mouth.
Damn it, the roles have reversed.
He Zhenzhen chirped on the side, "Dad, this is called a black apple. Its taste is like buttery mashed potatoes, melts in your mouth, and helps with bone growth. Director Xu says it's perfect for someone with comminuted fractures like you."
Han Qin chimed in, "Yeah, why don't you eat it when Little Hang is feeding you?"
