Mr. Zhao didn't go to the big hospital; they didn't have the money for more check-ups. But judging by Zhao Run Tian's condition, he was certainly cured. They firmly believed that a child sent by heaven had come to save the Zhao family.
"Father, you always said you were naively good, but I was wrong. If you hadn't accumulated a lifetime of virtue, Runtian surely wouldn't have come back this time!" the woman said, her eyes moistening again.
Now, if it weren't for her father-in-law's accumulation of virtue and good deeds, she wouldn't believe that heaven had sent a miracle, that it was impossible for a five-year-old child to cure diseases that many big hospitals couldn't even begin to treat!
If it wasn't a miracle, could a cure appear overnight? Even a top hospital in Beijing couldn't achieve such results!
Zhao Run Tian also deeply felt the same; he had met the child, who was completely unlike an ordinary little boy—the eyes had a brilliance he'd never seen before!
