Cheng Zhiwei's fever had persisted for three days, and Zhang Yuanheng had run out of solutions, advising Zhou Lin to be mentally prepared, "Her will to survive is very weak, you need to be prepared."
Zhou Lin's face was pale, and his chest wound had not hit a critical spot, so his condition was still relatively good, "Do you mean, she doesn't want to live anymore?"
"That's what I mean." Zhang Yuanheng nodded silently, unable to help but complain, "With the way you are, if I were you, I wouldn't want to live either."
Zhou Lin gave him a cold glance without expression, and Zhang Yuanheng immediately made a zipping motion over his mouth.
Zhou Lin thought that when Cheng Zhiwei had stabbed him in the chest with scissors, she had truly intended to die. But he hadn't died yet, so how could she die?
"Do everything you can to keep her alive," Zhou Lin coldly instructed, "This is related to your hospital's investment funds for next year."
