For more than ten years, Xia Yanxin could no longer count the times the doctor had issued critical condition notices for her. Every time at those moments, she always felt that no amount of money was useful, as money could not conquer illness. When her daughter lay dying on the hospital bed, it was then she felt she was a poor pauper; it was only at those times she clearly realized she should hand her daughter over to Yeh Huang.
"I've said, this isn't an illness; it's fate!" Yeh Huang was silent for a long time, "Since you agree, I'll take her tomorrow! After that, I'll contact you periodically so you can stay informed about her condition."
"Tomorrow!!! No, no, that's too sudden, too rushed..." Thinking of her daughter's separation, Xia Yanxin couldn't accept it at the moment.
