An Ning's words, "She's still breathing," spurred An Laoqi to scramble up from the ground and shoo away his three stunned children.
"An Ning, what do we do? What about my wife?"
An Laoqi was completely at a loss.
Theirs was one of the oldest houses in the village. He had specifically gone up on the roof to sweep the snow before bed, but the snowfall was too heavy, and the roof had collapsed anyway.
His wife had reacted the fastest, shielding the children with her body, but she herself was struck by the thickest crossbeam.
An Laoqi knelt on the ground, frantically fumbling through his pockets. The grown man was crying, snot and tears streaming down his face.
"The money—it's in the house."
"I—"
An Ning peered through the snow, which was already nearly waist-deep, searching the crowd for Jiang Xia.
"Uncle Qi, don't panic. I'll take Auntie An Qi to the hospital."
"Don't worry about the money, either. I have some. Saving her is what's important right now."
