Zhuo Junyue took a few steps, and a thin layer of perspiration was beading on his forehead.
As a man so filled with pride, as a man who once climbed Mount Everest.
Right now, seeing only a hint of light and being unable to move his legs freely, Zhuo Junyue's temper flared up without reason.
Su Ningyan and the doctor, watching the shaky Zhuo Junyue, drew cold breaths, fearing he would fall over.
Finally, Su Ningyan, despite the danger of being hit and having her bones broken, supported him when she saw beads of sweat on his forehead.
"Take a rest first. Didn't the doctor say that the late-stage physical therapy needs to be carried out gradually?"
Zhuo Junyue felt the small hands clutching his waist tightly and pursed his brows, "It's just a few steps, why all the fuss? Is my condition really that bad?"
"You're doing great, you still have examinations in the afternoon, let's go home and practice at a slower pace."
