Nangong's wife hurriedly said, "Yes, yes, this is not Fu Han's fault, nor He Xing's. Besides, didn't He Xing already bring over an expert? Please don't be like this."
Wang Yixuan's hand slowly loosened, and he stepped back two steps to take a look at He Xing. Without a word, he turned and returned to his original spot, standing as immovable as a tree that had grown from the soil.
The hospital was quiet at night, and even quieter outside the Emergency Room where no one else was present.
A cold wind swept through from somewhere, growing cooler by the moment, making one's scalp tingle and hands and feet icy.
All four of them remained silent, the only sound being the red light on top of the Operating Room that kept flickering, intensifying the palpable distress.
After thinking for a moment, Nangong's wife asked, "He Xing, how is Fu Han doing now?"
