This man is a pillar of China, a leader who truly does good for the people. How could such a good person suffer such pain? Now that she's here, she certainly can't just stand by and watch.
Tang Yue frowned more and more as she looked at him. Mr. Qi really didn't take his health seriously. He had been overworked for many years, and he had quite a few ailments in his body. Moreover, because he had participated in the War of Resistance against Japan, he had many old injuries that would often flare up.
Then, looking at the internal organs, Tang Yue couldn't help but widen her eyes. What? How could there be such a serious problem with the internal organs? Is this cancer? With such a healthy body, Mr. Qi is still working tirelessly day and night. Tang Yue felt a pang of sadness.
Unable to resist, Tang Yue poured her spiritual energy into Mr. Qi's body, first nourishing his body, then slowly removing his chronic illnesses. Finally, Tang Yue used her spiritual energy to directly attack the necrotic and diseased areas in his internal organs. Before long, those necrotic and diseased areas became the same as other places.
Tang Yue smiled, a slight curve to her lips. Mr. Qi's current physique, well, how should I put it, is no different from that of a young man. Tang Yue sighed inwardly, thinking, "Sigh, won't this make Mr. Qi work even harder?"
But what could she do? She couldn't control herself.
Tang Yue originally came to deliver something to Mr. Qi, but now that she's done all this, she can't. Otherwise, Mr. Qi will find out sooner or later that she did it. She's done too many good deeds anonymously, and this time will probably be the same.
Tang Yue smiled and left.
Mr. Qi felt he had never slept so comfortably before. When he woke up, he was a little confused as to why he was lying in bed. He sat up abruptly, and then seemed to freeze in place.
What's going on? When did he become able to move so nimbly? And is this really his body? Why doesn't he feel any pain at all after such strenuous movements?
Mr. Qi, disbelieving, quickly lay down again, then quickly got up again, repeating this several times. Finally, Mr. Qi fell silent. It's forbidden to promote feudal superstition now, but at this moment, Mr. Qi didn't know how to describe his body.
After thinking it over carefully, he clearly remembered writing a detailed plan, but how did he wake up in bed? Could it be? He had fainted again.
After leaving the lounge, he went to his desk and, sure enough, noticed that the last stroke of his pen was rather long. He sighed helplessly; it seemed that Old Tian had gotten him into bed.
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