Zhao Xuan had just finished a round of searches, and the subordinates he brought were already planning to start the third round.
Every police officer felt as if their legs were filled with lead, and their hands were too heavy to lift.
Zhao Xuan stood on the first floor, his hands on his hips, his gaze sweeping over the staff and patient relatives entering and exiting the Inpatient department gate.
"De Sheng, oh, my son! You died such a tragic death!"
"Mom brought you your favorite braised pork. Eat it, and after you've eaten, you can rest in peace!"
"Alas, your fate was so hard. When you were young, our family was poor, and we had to mix a piece of meat with a bowl of rice. Now, mom has made you an entire big bowl. You can eat as much as you want, and if it's not enough, you can ask mom in your dreams."
