Jing Qiao still couldn’t help feeling a bit panicked, as Song Boyuan’s head full of blood was truly a shocking sight.
Soon, a bodyguard rushed over and helped the person into the house.
This place was originally arranged by Song Boyuan for Jing Qiao. The couch was an off-white fabric sofa, completely decorated according to Jing Qiao’s taste.
At this mont, drops of crimson blood left their marks on the sofa.
Jing Qiao’s hands trembled as she tried to grab her phone to dial 120, but even the phone slipped from her grasp, clattering to the ground, its tempered glass screen protector shattering into a web of cracks.
She couldn’t even care about that, her fingers continued to swipe on the screen. The broken pieces of the screen protector were quite sharp, cutting fine wounds on Jing Qiao’s fingertips.
She had successfully dialed 120, and the operator on the other end, hearing her slightly panicked voice, comforted her, "Ma’am, please try to calm down first."
Jing Qiao took a deep breath before speaking.
anwhile, the bodyguard couldn’t help but suggest, "Madam, should we call Young Master Ji Ning?"
Jing Qiao was startled, only then rembering, that’s right, Song Jining was a hospital owner—Taiheng Hospital was also invested in by Song Boyuan.
And in her concern, she had actually forgotten even this.
She spoke quietly to the person on the line, "Sorry, it’s okay now. I didn’t an to bother you."
After hanging up, Jing Qiao turned to the bodyguard, "Let them explain the situation when you call."
The ambulance from Taiheng Hospital would surely arrive much faster than those dispatched by the ergency call center.
The dical staff quickly entered, carrying ergency equipnt and a foldable dical stretcher.
The leading young male doctor had a handso and gentle appearance, dressed in a clean white coat over a pristine ash-gray shirt.
However, his handso features now looked sowhat stern.
It was Song Boyuan’s cousin and a young master of the Song Family, Song Jining.
He didn’t look much like Song Boyuan, and their temperants were vastly different. Song Boyuan could probably never possess the gentle and modest deanor that Song Jining had.
When Song Jining saw Jing Qiao, he nodded to her gently, "Sister-in-law, what happened to my brother?"
While speaking, he didn’t stop moving. He fastened the blood pressure cuff onto Song Boyuan’s upper arm, connected him to a portable ECG monitor and then shined a flashlight into his pupils to check their status, assessing his level of consciousness.
"How on earth did he end up in a car accident?" Song Jining asked another question. He didn’t have much information, only that he had learned from the bodyguards over the phone that Song Boyuan had been in a traffic accident, but the specifics were unclear.
He had rushed over right away, so he hadn’t had ti to ask for details.
But on his way there, he thought carefully and found the situation to be quite odd—how could soone be at their own ho after a traffic accident?
Then, when the ambulance had arrived, Song Jining had just gotten out of the vehicle and saw his cousin’s luxury car, its front end and hood completely wrecked, with several dark skid marks on the ground.
The driver was still unconscious in the driver’s seat, so several dical staff were also dispatched to attend to the driver’s injuries.
Only when these details were pieced together did the situation seem to line up.
But the clearer the connections beca, the more bizarre the situation seed.
Song Jining couldn’t understand why his cousin would have a traffic accident right at the doorstep of his own ho.
Jing Qiao could guess what had happened, but at the mont, she didn’t have the ti to explain it all, only wanting to get the person to the hospital for a checkup first.
Fortunately, Song Jining didn’t seem intent on getting to the bottom of it; he quickly lifted the person onto the stretcher and onto the ambulance.
"Sister-in-law," Song Jining looked at her, "are you coming with us to the hospital?"
The Song Family’s other relatives and elders all looked down on Jing Qiao, but Song Jining didn’t. In fact, one might say he valued the woman before him greatly because he was very aware of this woman’s importance to his cousin.
His seemingly invincible older brother, who, all grown up, had just this one vulnerability—such a fragile woman—it was simply unbelievable even to think about.
Jing Qiao was silent for a few seconds.
She stood quietly in place, hesitating.
Her lips were pressed tightly together, and whether Song Jining saw her hesitation or was simply in a hurry to get Song Boyuan to the hospital, she didn’t know.
Anyway, Song Jining didn’t wait for her reply and said, "Sister-in-law, then you can co by car too, I’m taking my brother to the hospital now."
Jing Qiao just nodded slightly.
The ambulance, flashing its lights and sounding its siren, roared away.
Jing Qiao remained quietly standing in the sa place, her gaze following the ambulance that was now far away.
Her fingers clenched tightly, trembling slightly.
It took her a long while before she turned around and went back into the house.
Upon entering the house, Jing Qiao took several deep breaths, trying to calm her emotions, but as she cast her eyes down, she saw a trail of blood droplets on the grayish-white marble-patterned ceramic tiles.
Drop by drop, they extended towards the direction of the living room.
They seed to be coagulating, turning each one into a deep red color.
Jing Qiao stared fixedly at the trail of blood next to her feet, and involuntarily stretched out a toe to smudge it.
Instantly, her toe spread the trail of blood across the floor, creating streaks of crimson like the strokes of a brush dipped in paint on a canvas.
Further on, the floor was a ss with footprints from the dical staff in blood.
And on the beige sofa, there were also grotesque bloodstains.
Everything pointed to what had happened here just monts ago.
Jing Qiao’s fingers gently touched the grueso stains on the sofa, her face turning a bit pale, her lips also losing their color.
She stood frozen in thought for a long ti before finally turning to walk to the entryway.
Her initial steps were slow and heavy, but they quickened as she went on.
She reached the entryway, almost throwing herself at the cabinet, yanking open a drawer, and without hesitation, grabbed a set of car keys before rushing towards the garage.
Her speed caught the bodyguards off guard; they were still preparing to clean up the aftermath, first contacting soone to deal with the cars outside, then soone to manage the ss inside the house.
But then they saw the lady heading to the garage.
Just as they went after her, a bright silver supercar roared like a fierce beast being released from its cage.
The tires squealed against the ground as it sped away.
Jing Qiao drove straight to the hospital.
She zood through the gates of Taiheng Hospital, skidding across two parking spaces with a dramatic fishtail, parking very unreasonably, but at that mont, she had no mind to consider any reason.
She got out of the car.
Then her feet felt as though they were welded to the ground, unable to move.
Jing Qiao could hear her own pounding heartbeat, her own intensely forceful breathing, the sound of blood coursing furiously in her veins.
She felt as if she could sll the disinfectant, as if she could hear the clashing of surgical instrunts.
She could almost hear those people dressed in white, as they reported back to Song Boyuan.
I’m sorry, Mr. Song.
She won’t be able to dance anymore.
It’s unlikely she will regain her original capabilities.
Unfortunately, her career is probably over now.
Regrettably, she had a miscarriage.
Her depression is very serious.
She has clear suicidal tendencies.
(Ah, finally reached Chapter five hundred, and yet no sweetness was delivered. I despise myself.)
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