Suddenly, a sentence that Jing Min had shouted earlier flashed into her mind—
"I can afford to be cuckolded!"
He clearly had a high fever at that time, and was clearly on the verge of losing his mind.
But he gritted his teeth and held on, not letting her call the police or make a scene.
Her fingers trembled slightly, but she ultimately didn't dial 120.
She turned and glanced at Yang Jinchu—
The man's face was ashen, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and he stared at her with half-open eyes.
It was as if he wanted to speak but didn't have the strength to open his mouth.
Chu Wuyang sighed.
She wasn't unaware of why Yang Jinchu had called the media.
This man probably had his own selfish motives as well.
Back then, it was Jingmin who notified the media to photograph her; now he's doing the same.
But justice is never like that.
It's just that both men were too selfish; they used her to settle their scores with each other.
She did hesitate.
But she knew that once the ambulance arrived,
Everything will be exposed.
Yang Jin was seriously injured, Jing Min had a relapse, and the media was still keeping a close eye on things.
The slightest movement could turn this private feud into a city-wide spectacle.
She couldn't let things get out of control like this.
She gritted her teeth, turned off her phone, and stuffed it into her pocket.
She walked towards Yang Jinchu, squatted down, and tried to keep her tone steady.
"Are you still able to walk?"
"I'll take you to the hospital."
Yang Jinchu responded in a low voice.
"good."
She carefully helped him to his feet, her shoulder pressed against his blood-soaked shirt.
His entire profile was almost pressed against his sweat-drenched neck.
And she was completely unaware—
Just as she turned her back to the living room and helped Yang Jinchu step by step toward the door.
Behind me, a slow "click" came from the sofa.
It's like a stuck mechanism that's being pried open with all its might.
Jingmin struggled to support himself on the edge of the sofa and finally stood up.
His body swayed, almost kneeling back down, but he gritted his teeth and looked up at the door.
Chu Wuyang's figure had already blurred out of sight.
His head throbbed as if a hammer were pounding his skull, his vision was unfocused, and the tinnitus was so intense that he could barely hear the world around him.
But he still walked over step by step, trembling.
It's like being driven by instinct.
His instincts told him only one thing:
She can't leave.
He seemed to have reached a point where he could no longer make a sound.
All I could do was grit my teeth and follow her relentlessly from behind.
Even with a splitting headache, even if the world is spinning—
He couldn't bear to see her go either.
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