Gui felt something was off.
It thought carefully and earnestly asked, "Zhao Rong, what's wrong with you?"
Zhao Rong raised his hand, placing his palm near the candle to feel the warmth of its flickering flame.
In the candlelight, his eyes were clear and bright, "Gui, right now there's nothing wrong with me, but the old me had problems everywhere!"
Gui: "?"
You must be seriously ill... it opened its mouth wide.
Without waiting for Gui to worry and ask more, Zhao Rong suddenly stood up, went to open the window, letting moonlight and autumn wind into the room, then lowered the bed curtain of little Qian'er's couch.
The night was as cool as water; he stood before the table looking up at the starry sky, taking a deep breath.
His trachea was slightly stung by the cold night wind.
However, this slight pain clearly told Zhao Rong that everything he was experiencing now was real!
