The speed An Ning was driving at made An Guoping's head spin. The food in his stomach churned, rising up only to be jolted back down.
The sensation was so awful, 'he'd rather someone just put him out of his misery with a knife.'
"Sis—slow down! I'm... I'm gonna die!"
An Guoping really couldn't take it anymore.
"Almost there."
Sure enough, a minute later, An Ning pulled over on the busiest street in town.
An Guoping scrambled off the tricycle, hunched over by the side of the road, and started to throw up.
"BLEGH—"
"BLEGH—"
After heaving a few times, An Guoping finally felt a little better.
He walked over weakly and looked at An Ning. "Sis, you're driving a tricycle, not a plane!"
"I'd love to fly a plane, but the distance doesn't really call for it."
An Guoping looked at his increasingly sharp-tongued sister, sighed, and stepped forward to resignedly grab their things.
"Sis, how have you been feeling lately?"
"Pretty good. Look how well my vegetables turned out."
