Xiang Yimo narrowed his long, narrow eyes.
Even though he was now bedridden with a serious illness, he was the son of Xiang Zongyin, and he was exceptionally handsome. How dare this woman despise him?
But he saw Zhong Lingling retreating repeatedly, running towards the direction of the kitchen. "I'll cook for you!"
Watching her slender figure completely disappear from view, a smile emerged at the corner of Xiang Yimo's mouth that he himself hadn't noticed.
Zhong Lingling thought to herself as she cooked, could it be that she had not understood the method of taking a pulse? Or was there something wrong with what was recorded in that book?
Strange, Xiang Yimo's pulse was clearly normal!
The next morning, Xiaobing came over as usual to help Zhong Lingling with her makeup. Through the makeup mirror, Zhong Lingling saw that Xiaobing looked pale today, even sweating on her forehead, and seemed to be in discomfort, but she still endured it without a word, dressing her.