Sometimes, luck plays a significant role, and one must accept it.
Hearing the last words, Yu Xiheng's eyelashes lifted slightly, and a smile touched his lips as he softly acknowledged, "Mhmm."
"What does that 'mhmm' mean?" Mr. Yu was somewhat incredulous. "Why do you seem to be in such a good mood?"
Yu Xiheng brushed off the dust from his clothes. "I'm seeing the doctor soon, which is indeed a good thing. I won't disturb you any longer."
Without further explanation to Mr. Yu, he turned his wheelchair and left, crossing paths with Yu Yao, who had just returned.
Yu Yao's expression changed. "Uncle Nine."
Yu Xiheng, resting his head on his hand and with his eyes closed, appeared to be in deep thought.
His wheelchair, being automatic, continued forward.
"Don't mind him!" Mr. Yu said angrily. "Yu Yao, go upstairs and keep your grandmother company. She's not feeling well."
