Just as Dr. Mahadi's fingers were about to touch the IV line interface—
A hand wrapped in bandages suddenly seized his wrist!
Cold!
Hard!
Dr. Mahadi felt as if he were being gripped by a hydraulic clamp and couldn't help but let out a low growl—
"Ugh!"
He instinctively tried to break free, but the strength of the hand was astonishing, and his struggles didn't cause it to move an inch.
He looked up in terror, meeting the suddenly opened eyes of Song Heping.
Completely different from when he first entered, Song Heping's eyes, under the dim bedside lamp, were as sharp and cold as two ice-tempered daggers.
"Doctor."
Song Heping showed a disdainful smirk at the corner of his mouth.
"The sweat on your forehead... and the tremor in your fingertips..."
His gaze swept over Dr. Mahadi's forehead covered with fine cold sweat and the hand that was still trembling uncontrollably.
"...speak more than the instruments."
