Xiao Zongting sat in the chair, his lips still trembling, his face covered in tears. This old man who had faced life and death was still unable to calm his emotions.
Duan Rong picked up a porcelain pot from the tea table, poured a cup of clear water, and handed it to Xiao Zongting.
Xiao Zongting's hand shook slightly as he brought the teacup to his lips, taking a couple of sips, finally calming down slowly.
Seeing his somewhat worried expression, Duan Rong, who was standing beside him, asked, "From whom did you learn this acupuncture skill?"
If not for Duan Rong's timely intervention just now, it seems that Xiao Baijiao might not have made it...
Duan Rong sighed softly and began to tell the prepared story, slowly and profoundly.
"When I was about ten years old, a neighbor moved in nearby, an elderly man, slightly hunched and living alone."
"I noticed that alone he found it difficult to manage daily tasks, so at times, I would gather some wild fruits for him."
