Days passed one by one, and a month went by in a flash.

The doctor who gave Meng Zhao acupuncture every day was worthy of being praised by the world as a miracle doctor. After this period of treatment, Meng Zhao's legs had improved.

The weather has been a little colder recently. Qingying was afraid that Meng Zhao's legs and feet would be frozen, so she covered him with two quilts when he went to bed at night.

Although it was winter, it was not cold enough to need two quilts.

Meng Zhao was in good health, and his blood was strong. With two quilts covering his body and the little one in his arms, the body temperatures of the two blended, and he was so hot that he was sweating all over his back.

In the middle of the night, Meng Zhao subconsciously raised his leg to kick the quilt. This casual kick actually kicked a corner away.

The chilly air poured into the quilt and just froze Qingying's jade-white feet.

Qingying frowned and murmured, reaching down to tuck in the quilt.

Meng Zhao still felt hot, and in a daze, he raised his leg and kicked the quilt away.

The cold air kept pouring in, freezing Qingying's feet a little cold. She was a little bit bad-tempered after falling asleep, and her usual concept of master-servant hierarchy had long been thrown out of the window.

She raised her hand and slapped Meng Zhao's thigh, and said angrily: "Young Master, don't keep kicking the quilt, it will freeze me."

After Qingying finished speaking, she didn't react herself, and the room was quiet.

The next moment, she suddenly opened her eyes, sat up immediately, and reached out to touch Meng Zhao's leg.

Qingying shook Meng Zhao's body and asked in shock: "Young Master, Young Master... Was it you who kicked the quilt just now?"

Meng Zhao was shaken by Qingying and immediately woke up.

"Kicked the quilt?"

He recalled and vaguely remembered that he seemed to have raised his legs twice just now.

Meng Zhao tried to lift his right leg up, and he actually lifted it up, but he couldn't lift it very high, only half a foot high.

Seeing the scene in front of her, Qingying shouted excitedly: "Young Master, your legs... your legs can be lifted up."

Meng Zhao was also shocked. He hugged Qingying and leaned on her shoulders, ecstatic: "Qingying, my legs are responsive and can move freely."

"Yes, Young Master, I saw it.

Although Meng Zhao's legs could be lifted up and he could make simple movements, he still didn't dare to walk on the ground.

That night, he still lay obediently in bed.

The next day, the miracle doctor came to give Meng Zhao acupuncture, and Meng Zhao told him that he could lift his legs.

The miracle doctor explored Meng Zhao's calves, and asked Meng Zhao to lift his legs on the spot to show him.

He stroked his gray beard and nodded: "Well, the recovery is good. In another half a month, you can use crutches and let someone support you to try to walk a few steps on the ground. "

The doctor took out the silver needles from the medicine box and began to give Meng Zhao acupuncture. After the acupuncture, he wrote a prescription for Qingying. He

asked Qingying to send someone to get the medicine and boil water for Meng Zhao to take a foot bath. During the foot bath, Qingying was needed to help massage some important acupuncture points on Meng Zhao's legs.

The doctor handed the massage technique to Qingying, demonstrated it twice in front of her, and then left.

Qingying prayed in her heart that Meng Zhao could stand up soon. She did as the doctor instructed and did her best to massage Meng Zhao's legs.

The doctor said to continue massaging for two quarters of an hour. If When the fruit water cooled down, she continued with the hot one.

After massaging for a quarter of an hour, Qingying's fingers felt sore, but she did not stop. Even though her palms were red and swollen, she still did not let go.

Madam Meng came once during this period. She came to visit Meng Zhao.

Madam Meng did not let anyone go in to report. She walked to the door and looked into the room. She saw the heartwarming scene of a couple living happily together in the room under the warm candlelight.

Qingying was massaging Meng Zhao's legs. Meng Zhao saw that her forehead was sweating from the massage, so he wiped it with his sleeve: "Qingying, are you tired? Take a break, and then massage again. "

Qingying shook her head: "The miracle doctor said that we can't stop halfway. Maybe if we stop, it will be ineffective. I can still hold on for a while. It's almost two quarters of an hour."

Meng Zhao was moved. He stroked Qingying's fair cheek and said affectionately: "Qingying, you are such a silly girl. When my leg is healed, I will go to Yingtao Mountain, pick the most beautiful peach blossom, and make a box of rouge for you with my own hands."

Qingying raised her head and looked at Meng Zhao steadily. There was a slight gleam of water in her clear almond eyes: "Young Master, you are so good to me."

However, she might not be able to wait for the rouge made by him.