Meng Xinian knew just how rare Chiang Xiao's pastries were, so of course, he wouldn't keep them to himself.
Zhao Xin opened his eyes, his voice extremely weak, "Sister-in-law, how did you, come here?"
"Yes, she's here. Do you remember the pastries she made? You've had them before, and you said that if you could eat two pieces every day, life would be more comfortable than that of immortals. Now she's brought some pastries, do you want some?" Meng Xinian spoke to Zhao Xin as gently and patiently as perhaps he never had before.
Chiang Xiao felt rather puzzled hearing this.
"Am I, am I not going to die?" Zhao Xin's voice was very low, faint, conveying a heavy weakness.
Chiang Xiao was taken aback; she turned her head sharply to look at him and saw his face pale as paper, lips devoid of color, eyes open but without any sparkle – it was a clear sign of a life fading away.
