"Huh…"
The cold wind brushed past Su Ming'an's ears, and he blinked.
He was afraid that he would rewind time to a point where it was "impossible to save" Yuanyuan, like in the early hours of the morning when he had overslept, unable to do anything, which was tantamount to declaring Yuanyuan's death.
As his vision gradually cleared, he saw strands of beige hair fluttering in the cold wind. Light reflected off the shards of glass scattered on the ground, and Tretiya stood in the corridor, staring intently at the pulse bombs she had set up.
Seeing this scene, Su Ming'an suddenly felt relieved.
It was almost eleven o'clock at night, and Lin Guang was still lying in the rehabilitation pod; there was still a chance for everything.
