"Miss Ye Luo is back."
A middle-aged woman, who looked like a nanny, exclaimed upon seeing Nie Wenling.
"Wang Ma, how is my sister, how is she now?"
"Ah, Miss Wen Yu just vomited blood and passed out. She is currently upstairs in her room, and the situation seems very dangerous. Sir, Madam, and Young Master Xiang Zuo are all up there."
The woman named Wang Ma explained.
"Wait here for me, I'm going up."
Nie Wenling told Ye Luo before hurriedly running upstairs.
In a room upstairs, quite a few people were gathered. On a neat bed, a beautiful woman lay, but at this moment, her face was sickly pale, her lips were cracked, her eyes were tightly closed, and her breath was faint. She looked utterly devoid of vitality. An old man with graying hair was taking her pulse by the bedside.
A middle-aged couple stood nearby—the man with a square face and a bit of stubble, his features solemn and imposing, commanding a strong presence.