Time flies quickly; another month has passed in the blink of an eye.
Qiao Dehou still hasn't regained consciousness, and this matter could no longer be concealed from Old Mrs. Qiao and Mr. Qiao.
After all, even though they didn't particularly care for him, they were still concerned about their son's life and death.
Seeing this, Qiao Mo stopped keeping it a secret as well.
Fortunately, the Qiao family's attitude towards her has somewhat softened; instead of blaming her, they often visit the hospital to talk to Qiao Dehou, which surprisingly makes Qiao Mo feel a bit happy.
That afternoon, Qiao Mo sat at her desk in a daze.
The paintbrush in her hand was spinning between her fingers, making her look a bit absent-minded.
"Xiao Mo, what are you thinking about?" Sister Yang asked with a smile, without a hint of the previous exclusion.
Qiao Mo snapped back to reality and replied with a smile: "Nothing, maybe I just didn't sleep enough and my brain is a bit sluggish."
