Up ahead.
Jiang Changning had already finished the call.
Unfamiliar with first aid, all she could do was take note of the woman's features.
She examined the women's qipao, as well as the elegant embroidery.
The fabric was clearly not from Lincheng and was undoubtedly expensive; the embroidery, clearly hand-stitched.
"Survival rate: 30%, 40%," Si Fuqing remained crouched on the ground, a soft glow twinkling in her eyes as she uttered numbers. "55%..."
By this time, the assistant was drawing dangerously close.
Just a few more steps, and she could reach out to unmask the mysterious girl.
Behind, Xu Ruotong, who had been watching the whole time, was already gripping her phone, ready to snap a picture.
Si Fuqing kept her head low. Her form remained still, one hand pressing on the woman's ribcage and the other firmly grasping her acupoints.
Only her toes lightly tapped the ground.
"Whoosh—"
