Zhang Qian returned to the car and leaned back in the rear seat to rest with his eyes closed.
Jin Ling meticulously explained a recent case she handled to Zhang Qian.
Zhang Qian, while listening, began to massage his temples with his hand.
Recently, his mind had been too cluttered with issues, and his headache had increasingly worsened.
Jin Ling saw Zhang Qian frown in the rearview mirror.
She stopped talking, turned around, and asked, "Sir, are you alright?"
Zhang Qian shook his head tiredly, "I'm fine."
"If your headache is really severe, I have some medicine in my bag, do you want to take one now?"
This time, however, Zhang Qian did not respond to her.
Jin Ling stared at Zhang Qian for a while and knew about his temperament.
Since he had already succinctly stated that he was fine, he wouldn't say another superfluous word about the subject.
But although that was the case, Jin Ling, still concerned, couldn't help but to ask one more time.
