But that day, Deng Yuanqi still did not die.
When Xiahou Yi saw Sheng Siyuan in the hospital, the man whose face was splattered with blood looked so intimidating that it was almost fearsome.
"Is he hurt?"
"No," the old butler by his bedside immediately offered reassurance.
Xiahou Yi then felt relieved.
Watching Siyuan completely ignore his own ward and go straight to Yin Hehe's side, all he could do was lie on his hospital bed and sigh.
"Old Zhong, if it weren't for him this time, my life would have been over."
"Indeed, how else could we say that the young master is capable?"
The old butler immediately chimed in with a smile, his tone full of affection for the young master.
Xiahou Yi muttered at the corner of his mouth, wanting to ask more, but in the end, he closed his mouth.
This New Year's Eve, the Xiahou Family had experienced the darkest day in their history.
The next day.
New Year's Day.
