Yang Zimei went through the discharge procedures for Song Xuan.
Song Xuan also had an old courtyard-style house in the provincial capital.
The Song family has been in the antique business for generations and has considerable assets. They have their own private houses whether in the provincial capital or the capital.
The Song family house is located in a busy city, but it is only in a corner. When you open the door, you will see small bridges and flowing water, and winding paths are deep, giving people the illusion that you were standing in a busy city just now.[
"Mr. Song, I really didn't expect that in a provincial city where land is at a premium, you actually own such a big house. I'm so jealous. If it were sold, it would be worth at least hundreds of millions, right?"
Yang Zimei praised.
Although the current housing price in Guangyuan City is only 6,010 square meters, it will soar to 6,000 square meters in a few years.
Such a house with an area of at least one acre is truly extremely luxurious, and the location is excellent.
"This is what our ancestors left behind. Unless we are at the end of our rope, we cannot use money to calculate it." Song Xuan smiled slightly.
"Too."
Yang Zimei hugged Lianyi, Zhenzi pushed Xiao Qian, and followed Song Xuan in.
"Qingmei has always wanted to live here, but I don't have time to bring her here." Song Xuan sat down and said sadly.
Yang Zimei didn't know how to comfort him and only said: "Mr. Song, everything will be fine. When the time comes, you will live happily here with Sister Qingmei and Xiaopang."
"Little Fatty?"
Song Xuan asked her doubtfully, "Who is the little fat guy?"
"Your son." Yang Zimei realized that she had made a mistake. Xiaopang was the name she called Song Xuan's son in the previous life. Now her son has not been born yet, so she explained, "I think he will be fat after he is born.
If he's fat, I'll just call him chubby, haha."
"Little Fatty is a good nickname." Thinking of his soon-to-be-born son, Song Xuan's eyes were full of tenderness and melancholy.
"Mr. Song, do you want to see what your little fat boy will look like in the future?" Yang Zimei asked with a wink.
Song Xuan's eyes lit up, "Can you still figure out what my son looks like?"
Naturally, Yang Zimei couldn't figure out what his son looked like, but she had seen Xiaopang's appearance in her previous life.
She then picked up a pen and used her extraordinary painting skills to vividly paint the six-year-old little fat boy.
Xiaopang's facial features look a bit like Lin Qingmei's, but his expression is like Song Xuan's.
Although he is young and has a chubby face, he can still see the gentle wind early on.[
Song Xuan picked up the portrait, looked at it for a while with tears in his eyes, and then looked at Yang Zimei, "Xiaomei, I must get better. I can't let my son have no father, please help me!"
Seeing the fighting spirit for survival rekindled in his eyes, Yang Zimei nodded.
If a person wants to defeat a disease, in addition to the treatment of doctors, the most important thing is to rely on his own will to defeat it.
Before, although Song Xuan wanted to be treated, his eyes were filled with despair.
The purpose of Yang Zimei's painting of Little Fatty was to ignite his hope in life.
Seeing that the effect was achieved, Yang Zimei was ready to start acupuncture on Song Xuan.
The phone rang, and it turned out to be An Dongyang whom I met on the road.
"Beauty, what are you doing now?"
An Dongyang's voice was somewhat frivolous and teasing.
"I'm busy with something, so I don't have time to chat with you right now. I'm sorry. I'll call you when I'm done. Bye."
