When Zhang Qian arrived at the hospital, what he saw was the deeply troubled face of Wen Suihan.
The two men exchanged a glance, but neither said a word.
After all, given their tacit understanding, it was clear they both knew exactly what the other was thinking.
A moment later, Wen Suihan said directly, "Zhang Qian, He Tang brought her in too late. If she doesn't make it, you'd better be prepared to handle what comes next."
Zhang Qian's usually calm and confident face was now unusually pale.
Wen Suihan's gaze fell on Zhang Qian's coat.
Zhang Qian's coat was open, revealing a light grey home sweater underneath.
He must have come in a hurry—the drawstrings of his sweater's hood, one inside and the other hanging out, a stark contrast to his usual meticulousness.
Zhang Qian sat next to Wen Suihan, attracting the gazes of many passersby.
The looks of the two men were equally matched.
