Su Ningyan was somewhat uneasy when she heard that the success rate of the surgery was only eighty percent.
She couldn't help but tighten her grip on Zhuo Junyue's arm, "Only eighty percent? What is the twenty percent risk? Uncle, could you be in danger?"
This was a matter of life and death, to have a surgery in his brain.
"Little one, are you worried about me?"
Zhuo Junyue half laid on the couch, pulled her to sit on his lap, holding her waist.
Su Ningyan nodded her head, "Hmm, could anything happen? Uncle, I'm a bit scared."
That kind of feeling, Su Ningyan couldn't explain why, but felt a sense of foreboding in her heart.
"Don't be scared, have confidence in your uncle, okay?"
He had weathered huge storms, and now the success rate of the surgery had increased so much, Zhuo Junyue believed that he would be fine.
"But…"
