"So..."
Afafu's head was still reeling, unable to clear for a long time.
"It's all over, Miss Afafu. The killer has been shot dead on the spot by the action team's warriors."
The doctor wearing a mask glanced at Qiao Xing, who was lying in a coma on the hospital bed.
"The patient needs a quiet recovery environment, and also, accepting reality takes some time."
Afafu, holding her sleeping child, licked her pale lips and nodded, "May I spend some time alone with my husband?"
"It would be best not to take too long."
The doctor gave a piece of advice before leaving with a lowered head.
Afafu brought her legs together and sat down. The continuous hum of machinery buzzed in her ears intermittently. She lowered her head, her cold fingers clutching Qiao Xing's hand, disheveled hair veiling her profile. After a while, soft sobs finally filled the hospital room.
...
This outcome wasn't too far from Zhuoma's prediction.
"It's all over."
She pinched her own arm.
