Young Master Song's charismatic charm was impossible to resist, and his honeyed words came freely, leaving Zhao Yan beaming with joy.
Zhao Yan was still talking about Song Shize after he left for quite a while, "Your classmate is really nice, quite the smooth talker."
"But," Zhao Yan was a bit puzzled, "his complexion seemed rosy and his limbs nimble, why is he hospitalized?"
Qingran's expression almost collapsed. Ultimately, why Song Shize was hospitalized, it's because of your son, isn't it?
She said something against her conscience: "I don't know, maybe it's a hidden illness."
Deep down, she felt somewhat guilty for misleading Zhao Yan like that.
Zhao Yan's expression faltered for a moment, murmuring to herself: "It's hard to tell. What a pity."
Zhao Yan, lying on the caregiver's bed doing a facial mask, received a video call notification on her phone. She glanced at it and pushed the phone toward Qingran.
"Ranran, help me answer it."
