Letting the umbrella rest between the juncture of his neck and shoulder, He Juan tipped a pill onto his palm and tossed it into his mouth, swallowing it dry without water.
Chen Youzhi's expression abruptly shifted into one of alarm as he recognized the small bottle in He Juan's hand, which contained the medicine for his headache.
"Boss!" He raised his voice to rival the howling rain. "You… you've already taken the medicine earlier and also the rut suppressor—"
"It's fine, Chen'er," He Juan cut him off, his tone leaving no room for rebuttal. If one looked closer, they would notice that his lips were devoid of any color, and his knuckles were white from the force he used to grab onto the umbrella handle. "I need it today."
