As soon as the words left his lips, Zhou Jian unhesitatedly pulled out the surgical knife he had previously swiped, cutting toward the wrist of his own right hand that was holding Song Xue'er's little hand.
"What are you doing? A lover's suicide?"
Time seemed to undulate before the blood-soaked Zhou Jian suddenly heard a familiar voice resonate by his ear; he strained to look toward the door and through the haze, saw two strangers dressed in black suits, wearing black sunglasses, walking into the ward.
Following them, a young man wearing denim, all smiles, as if with a halo above his head, appeared between the two men in black.
"Have the Ox-head and Horse-face become so fashionable these days?"
Zhou Jian exclaimed in surprise, then weakly closed his eyes, losing consciousness.
Inside Jack's office, Qin Aotian sat opposite Jack, chuckling as he put down his phone and looked at Jack, saying:
"Dear nephew, it's all taken care of."
