In the middle of the night, Zhao Ting suddenly woke up.
It wasn't just his consciousness that awoke, but his consciousness finally synced with his body.
After lying down for so many days, his body seemed alien to him—soft and lacking any strength.
"Yaoyao." Fortunately, he could still make sounds. Zhao Ting called for Meng Yao.
Meng Yao was a light sleeper, and she woke up immediately. However, she thought she was having a hallucination because she wanted Zhao Ting to wake up so badly, so she didn't respond.
Zhao Ting called out again.
This time Meng Yao responded. She threw on some clothes, sat up, pulled out a fire starter, blew it, and lit the lamp.
"You're awake?" Meng Yao asked while feeling Zhao Ting's pulse. "The poison hasn't completely cleared. Check what medicine you need, and I'll ask Gao Shan to buy it tomorrow."
"Okay," Zhao Ting agreed.
"Do you want some water or need to relieve yourself?" Meng Yao asked again.
"Neither," Zhao Ting replied.
