Li Xingkui was immediately thrown off when he heard the young man claiming that Zhao Yang could cure "celestial impotence."
If Zhao Yang really had this ability, what should he do?
Beg him?
Could he help?
But if he didn't seek help from Zhao Yang, and since the doctors in the city hospital were helpless, who else could cure Li Jiazhuang's illness?
All morning, Li Xingkui paced back and forth in the village committee's office, smoking through an entire pack of cigarettes. When he extinguished the last one, he still hadn't made up his mind.
Li Xingkui decided to keep watching, thinking that if Zhao Yang really did cure the person tomorrow, he could make plans accordingly!
That night, Zhao Yang and Zhang Xiuer rolled in the sheets a few times, and after the passion subsided, Zhao Yang lay back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"What are you thinking about?" Zhang Xiuer turned to him, gently caressing Zhao Yang's sturdy chest, and asked softly.
