She should have an inherited disease just like her daughter.
Just like myself and Li Lan.
A hand holding a white towel appeared in the line of sight, it was fair, delicate, and indeed small, undoubtedly a child's hand.
The towel covered the woman's mouth and nose, and the sensation of suffocation began to intensify.
Then, a face came into view.
Li Zhiyuan was stunned because the face was his own!
The "self" was staring coldly at the woman, and since he was seeing it from the woman's perspective, it was as if he was looking at his "self".
In an instant, Li Zhiyuan remembered the voice he had heard earlier from outside the window from the girl's point of view, recalling the strong sense of familiarity in the tone.
Because most of the voice one hears when speaking is different from that played back on a recorder.
He had dark under the lamp, matched that voice with everyone else, but never thought that it could be his own.
