At the moment, Li Shaoling's eyes were tightly shut and his brow furrowed, seemingly in a lot of pain. His eyelashes throw a faint shadow over his eyelids, and his thin lips were tightly pursed.
His face was as white as paper, and no different from dead.
Nonetheless, Ji Weixi breathed a sigh of relief after touching his wrist and feeling the throbbing sensation of his pulse.
Suddenly, she was troubled why she had squabbled when she went to work with him in the morning.
Wouldn't she be regretting it for the rest of her life if he died?
No, he wouldn't die.
***
In the hospital, Jiang Cong quickly carried Li Shaoling to the chief neurologist's office.
However, it was empty.
Then, when a nurse passed by, Jiang Cong hurried to her and asked, "Where's Jiang Yigu?"
