What the old man said was true. Yang Yiting became excited for a while. She walked to the bed, held Meng Yuan's hand, and said happily. "A-Yuan, it seems that your cold poison can really be cured."
She had been getting worried that he would no longer endure the pain in his heart when the cold poison attacked every month. But soon, he would no longer need to rely on a wheelchair to walk, but could walk like a normal person again.
"Yiting'er." Meng Yuan stared at Yang Yiting 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 Yang Yiting's affection for him. His own Yiting'er thinking so much about him, how could he not be elated?
