The dark clouds painted the sky in ink.
The heavy rain poured down like falling gravel, "crashing" onto the ground.
A Lamborghini, a supercar, sprinted through the rainy night.
J City Hospital.
Mortuary.
Ye Xuan stood in the mortuary, looking at the body on the hospital bed.
Cui Xiaoman's death was too sudden.
This made it unbearable for him.
He showed no expression, and his eyes did not shed a single tear.
But no one could understand how much pain he felt inside.
It was as if a sword was cutting into his heart.
One slash after another, slicing his heart into pieces.
This is the feeling of heart-wrenching pain.
He did not blink, his hands hung limply, just coldly, with very stable emotions, staring at the blood-covered body.
That knife, piercing directly into Cui Xiaoman's heart, destroyed her heart, and with the wound from the three-edged blade, it couldn't be stitched up, leading to excessive blood loss and certain death.
Cui Xiaoman was dead.
