[Damn his logic. It makes sense, and Yuan would rather not be ill longer than this. He eyes the broth resentfully. It would have to be liquid, wouldn't it. A solid wouldn't have the risk of spilling at a shaking hand or sudden weakness.]

[He knows his limits. At least in this case. If he wants the broth, he's going to need help.]

[The quality if his silence becomes somewhat more sullen. Eventually:]

This can't be something you want to do.