"Why aren't you eating? Is the food not to your liking?"
Fatty Zhang struggled to swallow, sitting stiffly at the table, with a vacant look in his eyes as he checked his system notification—
[Critical plot trigger countdown: 5:48—]
Only six minutes left, but he had no clue, completely at a loss on how to trigger the critical plot.
The woman gently put down her chopsticks, stood up, went over to the kitchen counter, picked up a casserole from the stove, and returned to the table.
The casserole was pushed in front of Fatty Zhang, and as he glanced inside, he saw the bubbling green viscous substance and turned even paler out of fear.
He couldn't leave the table because he was well aware that he was very, very close to triggering the critical plot.
The woman picked up a porcelain spoon, scooped a bowl of the green soup, and offered it to Fatty Zhang, tilting her head with a smile, "Dapang, drink your medicine."
