In theory, it shouldn't have acted up.
"How should I know? I was injured on the job. As the big boss, aren't you going to compensate me for lost wages?"
"What? Injured on the job? Wait... a few months ago?"
"You're only finding out now?"
Ning Jing shot me an aggrieved look, held her head, and leaned back against the sofa without saying another word.
I took a bottle of orange juice from the refrigerator in the back seat and tossed it to Ning Jing.
"Here. Don't drink it. Hold it against the spot that hurts. The cold should help."
Before the apocalypse, I'd often been crushed by this kind of illness. To be honest... even getting a monster's claw through my stomach,
had often been easier to bear than a migraine.
It was mainly the pain. There wasn't much else to it. I couldn't eat greasy or salty food, look at light, feel a breeze, or
hear noise. Even a slightly louder sound—
At its worst, even walking could set it off. The moment my foot touched the ground, it would tug at my brain, as if a knife were twisting around inside.
There were only three ways to deal with it: lie down and rest, take painkillers, or apply something cold.
Those were the three best remedies I knew, so seeing Ning Jing like that, all I could do was give her a bottle of juice and let her cool her head with it.
Those drinks had all been prepared for me, but I wasn't that desperate for them. Clearly, they didn't appeal to me as much as barbecue.
Still, I liked them well enough. At least they were a little treat, right?
"A few months ago... You mean the time you came back injured from an outing?"