Feng Yu's face was ashen, and he had fallen into a coma. He had been shot three times in total: one bullet in his thigh, another in his chest, and the last one in his brain. If not for the life signs still registering on the monitoring equipment, Fu Bing would have truly thought she was facing a dead man.
Fu Bing showed no hesitation. "Does Qin Jinhai know?"
"He's been notified, but it's uncertain whether he can come."
Fu Bing recited a string of numbers. "Tell him I'm here."
"Okay."
The medical staff's spirits lifted. If Fu Bing was there, Qin Jinhai would definitely come. Fu Bing excelled in traditional Chinese medicine; she seldom truly used Western medicine.
The staff member who had gone to make the call hurried back in. "Mr. Qin instructed us to livestream the surgery. He also said that even if he manages to come, he might not make it in time."
Time was life, and indeed, not a single minute or second could be wasted.
