Mr. Rong, please stay. Miss Sang doesn't want to be a widow.

"Wan'er..." Ming Zhan clenched his fingers, tears in his eyes.

Seeing this, Minglang's eyes became even redder.

Ming Zhan took two deep breaths, bit his lip and walked over slowly.

Every step is light, as if walking on cotton.

He walked to the bed, sniffed, and choked, "Master Rong, what happened to Wan'er?"

Rong Zhi gently stroked Sang Yuwan's cheek, his voice hoarse, "The poison in her body has not been completely eliminated."

Ming Zhan felt like a huge rock was pressing down on his heart, making it hard to breathe. Heartache and anxiety intertwined in his tearful eyes.

After a few minutes, he finally opened his voice and said, "Is there really no antidote to this poison?"

Rong Zhi's eyes darkened slightly, his expression solemn, "There is no solution."

Ming Zhan's body stiffened and tears rolled down his eyes.

Rong Zhi's warm big hands gently covered Sang Yuwan's wide-open eyes, wanting her to close them.

"Wanwan, have a good sleep."

The low and hoarse voice is full of affection.

Ming Zhan's heart felt like it was being plucked by sharp claws, a bitter pain clogged his chest. It was as if an invisible force was tightly wrapped around his chest, making it hard to breathe. It was a feeling of blockage, like a thick winter fog, permeating his chest, blurring his vision and his thoughts.

"Wan'er..."

The air around me seemed to become thinner, and every breath was like searching for water in the desert.

My lungs felt like they were on fire.

Rong Zhi slowly let go and held his breath.

Sang Yuwan finally closed her eyes, her pretty face was so white that it was almost transparent.

Rong Zhi's frown relaxed slightly, and he said to the dean who had been guarding the room, "You can draw blood now."

A helpless and heartbroken tone.

The dean had a serious expression on his face as he held a blood-drawing needle and a blood-collecting tube.

Ming Zhan turned away uncomfortably.

Minglang came over to support him, "Second Young Master, please sit down."

Ming Zhan shook his head, wiped the corners of his eyes, and his vision became a little clearer.

Rong Zhi waited for the dean to finish drawing Sang Yuwan's blood. His eyes darkened slightly as he said to Ming Zhan, "I have something to tell you."

"Okay." Ming Zhan nodded.

The two walked out of the room.

Rong Zhi considered that his body had not yet recovered, so he slowed down his pace.

Arriving at the study, Rong Zhi asked him to sit down at the desk and handed him a sandalwood box.

"What is this?" Ming Zhan looked up, looking confused.

Rong Zhi said in a low voice, "This is the birthday gift Wanwan prepared for you."

Ming Zhan's heart sank.

His birthday is three days later.

Unexpectedly, Sang Yuwan had prepared a birthday present for him early on.

Ming Zhan suppressed his sadness and said with red eyes, "I want to wait until my birthday so that she can give it to me personally."

Rong Zhi unconsciously folded his hands together, rubbing his fingers together with a subtle sound, as if seeking a trace of comfort and strength. His entire body seemed somewhat stiff, and although he sat upright, he revealed an indescribable fatigue and heaviness.

"That might not be possible."

When Ming Zhan heard this, he felt as if a blunt knife had ripped a piece of flesh from his heart. The pain spread, his lips turned purple, and he spoke with a trembling voice.

"What do you mean……"

Rong Zhi pursed his lips tightly, with the corners of his mouth drooping slightly, forming an imperceptible arc, as if he was suppressing some emotion and was unwilling to reveal it easily.

Seeing that he didn't say anything, Ming Zhan stood up anxiously, his fingertips trembling, "Tell me what you mean by impossible. Wan'er..."

He didn't dare say the rest.