Chapter 291 This may not be possible.

“Wan’er…” Mingzhan clenched his fingers, his eyes filled with tears.

Seeing this, Minglang's eyes reddened even more.

Mingzhan took two deep breaths, bit his lip, and slowly walked over.

Every step felt light and airy, as if I were walking on cotton.

He walked to the bedside, sniffed, and choked up, "Master Rong, what's wrong with Wan'er?"

Rong Zhi gently stroked Sang Yuwan's cheek, his voice hoarse, "The poison in her body has not been completely eliminated yet."

Mingzhan felt as if a huge rock was pressing on his heart, making it hard to breathe. His tear-filled eyes reflected a mixture of heartache and anxiety.

After a few minutes, he finally raised his voice, "Is there really no cure for this poison?"

Rong Zhi's gaze darkened slightly, his expression grave. "There is no solution."

Ming Zhan froze, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Rong Zhi gently covered Sang Yuwan's wide eyes with his warm, large hand, wanting her to close them.

"Wanwan, get a good night's sleep."

His voice was low and husky, full of deep emotion.

Mingzhan felt as if his heart had been ripped open by sharp claws, a bitter, choking sensation filling his chest. It was as if an invisible force was tightly binding his chest, making it hard to breathe. It was a feeling of blockage, like the heavy fog of winter, permeating his chest, blurring his vision and his thoughts.

"Wan'er..."

The air around us seemed to thin out, and each breath felt like searching for water in the desert.

It felt like my lungs were on fire.

Rong Zhi slowly released his grip and held his breath.

Sang Yuwan finally closed her eyes, her pretty face almost transparently white.

Rong Zhi's tightly furrowed brows relaxed slightly, and he said to the dean who had been guarding the room, "You can draw blood now."

A tone of helplessness and heartache.

The dean looked grave as he held the blood-drawing needle and blood collection tube.

Ming Zhan turned away uncomfortably.

Minglang came over and helped him up. "Second Young Master, please sit down."

Mingzhan shook his head, wiped his eyes, and his vision became a little clearer.

After the dean finished drawing blood from Sang Yuwan, Rong Zhi's gaze darkened slightly, and he said to Ming Zhan, "I have something to tell you."

"Okay." Mingzhan nodded.

The two left the room.

Rong Zhi considered that his body had not yet recovered, so he could slow down his pace considerably.

Upon arriving at the study, Rong Zhi asked him to sit down at the desk and then handed him a sandalwood box.

"What is this?" Ming Zhan looked up, his face full of confusion.

Rong Zhi said in a low voice, "This is a birthday present that Wanwan prepared for you."

Ming Zhan's heart clenched.

His birthday is in three days.

Unexpectedly, Sang Yuwan had prepared a birthday gift for him well in advance.

Mingzhan, suppressing his grief, said with red eyes, "I want to wait until my birthday so she can give it to me personally."

Rong Zhi's hands unconsciously clasped together, his fingers rubbing against each other, making a soft sound, as if searching for a trace of comfort and strength. His whole body also seemed somewhat stiff, his posture upright yet revealing an indescribable weariness and heaviness.

"That might not be possible."

Upon hearing this, Mingzhan felt as if a dull knife had ripped a piece of flesh from his heart. The pain spread, his lips turned purple, and he spoke in a trembling voice.

"What do you mean……"

Rong Zhi pursed his lips tightly, the corners of his mouth slightly downturned, forming an almost imperceptible curve, as if he was suppressing some emotion and unwilling to reveal it easily.

Seeing that he didn't speak, Mingzhan stood up anxiously, his fingertips trembling. "Tell me, what do you mean by 'impossible'? Wan'er, she..."

He dared not say what came next.