The sky was slightly bright and Liu Yan woke up. He had sweated a lot last night, and Yi Mo covered him tightly so that he didn't catch the cold. So when he woke up, Liu Yanwei felt his head was heavy, and except for some softness and soreness in his waist, he felt unusually refreshed. The low-grade fever that persisted for several days was cured without medical treatment.
Liu Yan looked at his forehead and thought of these three lives. Except for the first one, which was weak and often sick, the remaining two lives were always healthy, even if they were sick, they were also heart-wrenching.
Just like Ji Jiu in his previous life, he fell seriously ill after meeting Yi Mo for the first time. If the baby's babbling sound hadn't awakened his consciousness, he wouldn't have been ill for how long.
Liu Yan thought of her daughter in her previous life, but now she didn't know whose wife she was, or she might have passed away long ago. All the impressions of my daughter in my mind were of that delicate little person, with her red nails pouting and her little mouth open, waiting for the wet nurse to feed her. Naturally, he thought of Ji Leping again.
The father and son look at each other, not without sadness. After all, they are flesh and blood relatives. When they meet, their hearts naturally soften. Because of this softness, when they are stabbed, it hurts more.
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