She stared at the glass door for a long time, then pulled back her gaze and walked out.
Right then, in the top-tier VIP ward of the hospital, Chen An was lying on the bed. The oxygen mask on his face was still there, his starry eyes tightly shut, tubes connected at his side, and the bandage wrapped around his head was still seeping blood.
The heart monitor next to him was fluctuating with an unsteady curve.
A nurse pushed the door open and came in, a damp towel still on the tray. She drew the medicine into the syringe and injected it into the man according to the dosage.
Mo Nanjue stood to the side, his gaze locked on the nurse's movements.
The nurse pulled out the needle and picked up the towel, ready to wipe Chen An down.
Mo Nanjue reached out and took the towel. "You can go."
"Yes, Young Master Jue."
