"Alright then, how many pills do you have in that bottle? Give them all to me," Yangyang frowned and said, "But I need to write a letter to my mother, asking her to prepare some silver."
"Once you've written it, I need to check it. After I check it, I'll deliver it for you."
The old man thought he might be old, but he wouldn't be taken for a fool. If they wanted to write an address, there was no way.
Yangyang pursed his lips upon hearing this and went to the study. This old man was really annoying.
Yang Chuxia and Ye Zi'an traveled back to the Capital City from the cliff road, only to be stopped at the city gate.
"Why are there so many people?"
The city gate in front was tightly shut, surrounded by a crowd of people who looked like refugees.
"Go and ask what's going on."
