In this way, what the old man said was true. Zhao Ling was also a little excited for a while, she walked to the bed, held Meng Yuan's hand, and said happily, "A-Yuan, it seemed that your cold poison can be cured."
He could no longer endure the pain in his heart when the cold poison attacked every month, no longer need to rely on a wheelchair to walk, but could walk like a normal person, and he could be the proud son of the fresh clothes and angry horses again.
"Ling'er." Meng Yuan stared at Zhao Ling with a smile like a flower, and was deeply moved. He didn't care whether his cold poison could be cured or not, he was just delighted by Zhao Ling's affection for him.
His Ling'er thought about him so much, how could he not be elated?
