Murong Lin overate in his room, his mouth dripping with oil, until he almost barfed by the end.
Fortunately, he didn't throw up.
He hated to waste food.
But still, he overate.
So, during dinner that evening, Murong Lin unusually poked at his rice grains with his chopsticks for a long time, eating them one by one.
Su Yinhe: "..."
Su Yinhe looked at him dubiously.
"You're full, huh?" Murong Lin, usually the most enthusiastic about meals, was suddenly not moving his chopsticks.
"No, no, it's just... I've lost my appetite." Murong Lin burped halfway through his explanation.
He quickly covered his mouth with his hand.
Crap, it still hadn't digested.
Damn.
What was wrong with him today?
The food he ate in the afternoon hadn't digested by night.
Su Yinhe: "..."
Being stubborn, huh?
Murong Lin always liked being stubborn.
Su Yinhe shook his head and took a bite of his food.
"Alright, as long as you're happy."
Happy? How could he be happy?
He couldn't be happy at all.
