Inside the tile house, besides a stove and two extremely cramped rooms with two beds, there was nothing but a strong scent of Chinese medicine.
Following the sound, he saw a middle-aged man who was only forty but looked like he was sixty, trying to get up from the bed, constantly coughing.
"Dad, you better lie down right now," He Jingyun said, walking to the bedside with a concerned face, helping He Yong.
"Cough cough cough, it's okay, cough cough, this is how my illness is," He Yong looked at He Jingyun affectionately, gazing at her clothes that seemed a bit too small and the traces of scratches from medicinal herbs, his eyes filled with guilt.
"Dad, don't talk nonsense. I will definitely make money to cure your illness," He Jingyun said, looking at her father's dim and frail face, her eyes reddening.
"Yun'er, who is this?" He Yong touched He Jingyun's head and, seeing Chen Yuan at the doorway, asked with curiosity.
