Unlike his grandfather, A Fu slept soundly without thinking much about it. After so many years, his leg hadn't healed, and he had long come to terms with it. Since he couldn't change it, he could only accept the reality.
Even if Yang Fan couldn't heal him, he would still be grateful to Yang Fan. After all these years, he had no expectations for his leg. Striking it lucky or experiencing a miracle was something A Fu, who had lived in the reality of being disabled for so long, never dreamed about. There was no need; besides wasting time, he didn't see any point in it.
Daybreak came, and A Fu, with his habit of early to bed and early to rise, woke up early in the morning.
Dressing and getting out of bed, he took the crutch by the bedside, and as usual, planted one foot on the floor, placed the crutch under his armpit, and began to walk out with difficulty.
But today, the other leg, which had been useless, felt noticeably different.
