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Negotiating with Percival

Stepping out of the office, the evening sun still radiated warmth, but a refreshing breeze quickly cleared Eulalia’s muddled mind. However, her stomach started to act up. She needed to sit down somewhere, and fast. Spotting Percival’s car, she hurried over.

Percival stubbed out his cigarette, opened the car door, and slid into the driver’s seat. After watching Eulalia buckle her seatbelt, he tossed a bag from the backseat to her.

Clutching the bag, still warm to the touch, Eulalia asked, “What’s this?”

“Open it and see.”

Eulalia pulled the bag open. Inside was a cup of porridge, tightly sealed. Even with Percival’s rough toss, it hadn’t spilled.

“I heard from Oliver that you didn’t eat much at lunch,” Percival paused before continuing, “You’ve got a sensitive stomach. There’s a new medicinal porridge place nearby. I’ve tried it; it’s pretty g

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