To tell the truth, it hurt a lot.
Zhao Qingheng had never imagined that someone with heart disease could possess such strength.
"What are you doing..." Zhao Qingheng hadn't finished speaking when he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his chest, a surge of blood in his throat, and his body weakened, causing him to kneel on the ground.
"Cough, cough, cough..."
At that moment, he coughed up blood.
This was the first time in Zhao Qingheng's life that he had tasted blood in his mouth.
He felt the urge to say something profound.
But all he could vomit was a mouthful of blood.
Su Nanzhi even took the opportunity to move further away, lest his blood splatter on her.
Her disdain was obvious.
Seeing this, Zhao Qingheng coughed up another mouthful of blood.
She had infuriated him.
Only when he was kneeling on the ground, coughing dryly until no more blood came out, did he shakily lift his head and ask Su Nanzhi, "Am I about to die?"
Su Nanzhi: "...Do you want to die?"
