That night, a strong wind blew.
The hospital corridors were deserted, the night wind swept through every corner of the hospital, lifting the sheets and curtains in the wards.
There was no one in Zhou Yi's room, except for the occasional nurse who came in and out; he was like a monster used for experiments, his body full of tubes, even his mouth unable to move freely.
His son had been a disappointment, his ex-wife took the opportunity for revenge, his assistant had resigned, and even his lawyer who came in the afternoon had betrayed him.
But Zhou Yi's mind was very clear, and this was the terrifying part, from head to toe, except for his brain, he couldn't move anything.
But he hadn't given up hope yet, because he still had money.
With money, couldn't he have women?
With money, he could still father sons.
As long as he had money, these people, once he recovered, he could trample them all underfoot.
What about hiring someone to commit murder? He could settle it with money.
