Li Qing woke up in the hospital with only Brother Gong by his side.
"Not dead, just got about a dozen stitches!"
Seeing Li Qing awake, this usually reticent man jested.
"Earlier on, I really felt like I was about to give up the ghost there, but luckily, I made it back." Li Qing shook his head and smiled bitterly.
He looked at his wounds; his waist and almost the whole of his left arm were wrapped in gauze.
"The injuries are minor, but there are quite a few of them—seven cuts in total."
Brother Gong stretched out his fingers and gestured a seven, then cursed indignantly, "I *ucking only dare to carry a knife for show, to scare people. I never expected they'd actually have the guts to use it."
"That bunch of little bastards, they're the most destabilizing troublemakers in society, not knowing how to hold back at all when they lash out."
"How's Hu Youyu?" Li Qing asked.
This was his main concern now.
