When dinner time, his heart became warmer. His meal was brought into the room. He was not too ill to eat by himself, but was ordered to sit still in bed. At the bedside, another young man sat by, blowing hot porridge with a spoon in one hand, and spilling soup and rice under the spoon with the other.

Chanin looked at the pose and his face became very strange.

He's shy. . . Really shy. I've never seen such a gentle Lane.

It's good to be uncomfortable. . .

"Open your mouth," says Run, as you blow porridge into a spoon until it's ready to eat.

Chanin opened his...