"Thank you, benefactor."
Upon hearing Qin Guang say the problem was not serious, hope shone in Hong Wuye's murky eyes.
He excitedly helped his grandson to his feet.
He said earnestly, "Whatever you need to do, benefactor, just command me."
"Please, take a seat first."
Qin Guang smiled, pointed to the sofa beside him, and gestured for Hong Xiaotong to sit down.
The child was very sensible, immediately sitting down obediently and even proactively rolling up his sleeve, exposing his wrist for Qin Guang to take his pulse.
An eight- or nine-year-old child performing this action so adeptly was somewhat heartbreaking.
Qin Guang placed his hand on the wrist, and his brow furrowed instantly.
The child's pulse was so weak that it shocked Qin Guang; had it been a less-skilled doctor, they might not even have detected the child's pulse.
This showed just how frail the child had become.
