Ye Cheng and Ye Ruoshuang stood at the entrance to the intensive surgery room, their vision darkening, nearly fainting.
At that moment, a hospital bed was wheeled out from inside.
Ye Cheng had, after all, weathered many storms.
He managed to maintain his composure, barely supporting his body.
Ye Ruoshuang was hanging on his arm.
The two approached the mobile hospital bed with trepidation.
"Hm? Why is it a man?"
Ye Cheng, thinking his vision had failed him, quickly patted Ye Ruoshuang, who was hanging on his arm.
"Shuang'er, Shuang'er."
Hearing this, Ye Ruoshuang ignored her father's call.
She hurriedly moved away from Ye Cheng to take a closer look.
Although the man on the bed had been disfigured beyond recognition by the explosion, he still had distinct male features.
After all, Ye Ruoxue didn't have such a large frame, did she?
The man on the bed seemed to have already breathed his last.
He was a ghastly pale.
