"If you keep disregarding your injury like this, when will you be able to get out of bed to save Momo?"
Mo Xiuchen's voice suddenly tinged with a hint of sarcasm and a faint anger.
Ye Zhan's face stiffened.
The next second, Mo Xiuchen reached out to help him lie back down.
"Uncle Mo, can you tell me about what's been happening these days?"
Ye Zhan lay back on the bed, sweat constantly rolling down his forehead.
His injuries were so severe that even without moving, the pain was intense.
And moving made it immeasurably worse.
But, even with cold sweat pouring from the pain, he forcibly restrained himself from uttering a sound.
Mo Xiuchen looked at Ye Zhan's pale face and couldn't hide the urgency in his eyes. He sighed quietly, suppressing the anger in his heart.
The man before him was the one his daughter loved, after all.
