At this time, Meng Yuan's cold poison was at its worst. Every night, the poison broke out, and the pain was unbearable. However, in the huge Meng Mansion, he didn't even have a relative to rely on. It was under such circumstances that he taught himself how to close the pain, and also close his feelings.
Yang Yiting looked at his cold and thin handsome face, and felt distressed for a while. In the past seven years, he had supported the business of the Meng family with a sick and weak body.
She held his cold hand and said softly, "A-Yuan, from now on, you will no longer be alone."
"Yiting'er." Meng Yuan held her hand back, a warm feeling spread in his heart. Looking at the woman beside him in a daze, he was at a loss for words.
Yang Yiting gave him a gentle smile and said, "If you don't eat it, the food will be cold. These are the dishes you told me you wanted to eat, back then on the ship."
