Yang Pingchuan in the hospital room was finally much better, Yang Huiru holding onto his wrinkled hand with tears, ever since Grandpa fell ill, she, as his granddaughter, was blocked outside by her domineering uncle, unable to see her grandfather for a month.
Now, she could finally see her grandfather. Yang Huiru, a woman who doesn't usually cry easily, didn't even cry when she was trapped in a room by terrorists at the most desperate moment, but now tears were uncontrollably streaming down her face.
Yang Pingchuan's thoughts were clear, he moved his lips slightly: "Huiru, your grandpa is fine, child, don't cry. I have seen King Yan already, there's nothing I'm afraid of now." He said this and then gasped for breath.
Yang Huiru really stopped crying, she shouldn't be crying. It was a time to be happy, she wiped her tears and forced a small smile: "I'm not crying."