Three people left the house and got directly into a taxi, and after more than twenty minutes, they arrived at Zhong Chuling's home.
Zhong Chuling's home was located in an old-style neighborhood without even property management, and the building was somewhat dilapidated with dark hallways.
Her home was just a two-bedroom apartment of just over sixty square meters, with the scent of medicine wafting through the air, but the entire place appeared very neat and tidy—a sick person, coupled with a young girl, this surely was all Zhong Chuling's doing.
"Big Brother Song, my dad is in here," Zhong Chuling led Song Xiaodong into a sunlit bedroom.
A man lay on the bed, his features gaunt and his breath feeble, as if he might pass away at any moment. Just from the looks of him, Song Xiaodong could tell that the man was indeed hanging on by a thread.
Sitting beside the bed, Song Xiaodong placed his fingers on the man's pulse and after a long while, he finally let go.
