"Young master, please eat something." She picked out some of the tastier-looking food from the tray and offered it to him, then couldn't help but ask softly, "Is your body holding up? Do you want me to take off my clothes to cushion you? You've lost too much blood, and the ground is too cold."
Philip Shaw slightly smirked in the corner, glanced casually at Angela Summer, "I'm a grown man, not as delicate as you think." He stopped Angela from continually picking meat for his plate, reaching for the ceramic plate and pulling it towards himself, "Alright, don't put everything in my plate; the rest is for you to eat."
Angela sat across from him, picked a piece of vegetable and stuffed it into her mouth. Worriedly, she watched Philip Shaw's lips grow paler in the basement, and wondered if it was just her imagination—his complexion seemed even paler than it did a day ago.
