His voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible.
With a face full of grief and indignation, Yan Feiping gripped his father's hand. "He won't sell it."
Between life and death, there lies great terror.
This was especially true for Yan Gushu, who had once wielded boundless power. He had no intention of dying; the instinct to survive made his breathing suddenly quicken, and the lines on the monitor fluctuated violently.
"Heaven… does… not grant… a life… what… can… one… do…"
The old man spoke with great difficulty, his withered fingers clutching tightly at his son's wrist.
"Dad, don't get worked up."
Yan Feiping pressed the call bell.
Muddy tears welled up in Yan Gushu's eyes. His breathing grew more and more rapid, and the monitor let out a shrill alarm.
The doctors and nurses rushed into the ward, and Yan Feiping was asked to step out.
