Gao Yuan was conscious, even very clear-headed.
Excruciating pain, unbearable and unrelievable, had become not just an adjective but a real, firsthand experience.
He could even hear others talking; it was just the intense pain that left him too weak to ponder or distinguish their conversations.
He truly wished to lose consciousness, to truly wish for death.
Gao Yuan would rather die immediately than endure the current agony.
But now, he couldn't even cry out—that was the most miserable part. He was in so much pain that he could beg anyone to kill him quickly, but he couldn't make a sound.
His entire body had lost control, leaving only a conscious mind to feel the intense suffering.
If he had known it would be like this, Gao Yuan truly wouldn't want to live, really wouldn't.
Luo Xingyu wasn't even aware that Gao Yuan was desperately pleading with her in his mind, begging her to end his life quickly.
Even losing consciousness would be good.
