Zhao Yishan was determined, deciding to wait right outside the door, insisting on inviting Great Immortal back today no matter what!
At three in the afternoon, Zhang Xiuer looked out the window and saw that the sun had started to set.
Outside the window, people occasionally walked by, talking to one another, their voices quickly drifting in. Initially uninterested in eavesdropping, Zhang Xiuer perked up when she heard the words "Zhao Yang."
She immediately stood up, walked to the window, and listened intently.
"The election meeting is tomorrow, and I heard Zhao Yang is seriously ill. Do you think he'll be able to do it tomorrow?"
"Do what? Didn't you see the look on the old doctor's face when he came out from Zhao Yang's place this morning? The last time my mother was on her deathbed and the old doctor was called, he knew right away there was no saving her—had the same expression."
"Shit, don't curse Zhao Yang. It was him who cured my migraines!"
