Because she was injured, she had to spend the night in the hospital, which Gu Qili hated the most. She had once stayed in such a place for three years.
When she was taking care of Gu Dezhong, she would often encounter life, ageing, sickness, and death. The hospital was simply a microcosm of life's beginnings and endings; she had seen sorrow, witnessed tears of joy, and seen too many farewells and reunions.
She lay in bed, unable to fall asleep, feeling repulsion in her heart, the wounds painful. Thinking back on the brave act she managed earlier that day, she now felt scared. Had the attacker truly intended to kill, had the bullet been more powerful,
but at that time, all she could think of was Mu Shuoqian and hadn't considered these things.
"Can't sleep?" Mu Shuoqian, who had been sitting beside her as a human-shaped pillow, felt her restless tossing and turning. He put down the documents in his hand. "Does the wound hurt?"
