Madam Bao said, "Mingyuan, shall we invite a master to chant for us?"
Bao Mingyuan couldn't help but smile wryly: "All that is feudal superstition."
Madam Bao fell silent.
Madam Bao didn't sleep all night and looked haggard.
She sat beside her son's sickbed, wiping his sweat with a handkerchief.
Her heart ached.
Xia Minglan was helplessly wiping away her tears on the side.
At that moment, Bao Ziqi's lips moved slightly, uttering a few faint words.
Madam Bao beamed with joy: "Ziqi is awake."
But he wasn't.
Bao Ziqi just kept repeating those few words.
Over and over.
As if it was an obsession in his heart.
Madam Bao leaned in to listen but couldn't make out what he said.
Bao Jingyuan didn't believe it; she leaned in close to her brother's lips.
Suddenly, she yelled out: "Brother is calling Ruanruan."
She was straightforward and bold: "Brother can't forget Ruanruan; he's even calling her name in his dreams."
Everyone's face turned sour.
