Cheng Yan sat across from you, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes as he spoon-fed you a steaming bowl of medicinal soup. The room was filled with the pungent aroma of bitter herbs, a stark reminder of your recent recklessness. The sting of defeat was still fresh in your mind, the taste of bitter defeat almost as palpable as the medicinal concoction he now spoon-fed you. Each spoonful felt like a bitter pill to swallow, both physically and metaphorically, as you begrudgingly accepted his care.

His stern gaze never wavered, even as you scowled with each sip, your pride wounded by the necessity of this treatment. Yet, despite your protests and the foul taste lingering on your tongue, there was a begrudging respect for his unwavering dedication to your well-being.

As Cheng Yan administered the bitter remedy, his normally stoic demeanor softened slightly, betraying the depth of his concern for your well-being. Despite the pain and discomfort, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for the trouble your impulsive actions had caused.

"Careless, reckless fool," Cheng Yan's words, though stern, carried a hint of compassion beneath their sharp edge. He understood your intentions, but he also saw the folly in your approach. You have allowed your emotions to cloud your judgment, risking both your own safety and the reputation of your Master in the process.