CHAPTER 190: CHAPTER 190 COLD WAR (8)

When Qiao Mo arrived at the hospital, she was still feeling immense tension and shock.

She couldn’t have expected that Qiao Xuan, who was doing fine, would suddenly become critically ill, making her face pale.

She hurried upstairs and from a distance spotted that dark figure, pausing in surprise.

He was here too.

He stood silently across from the intensive care unit, his expression slightly cold as he listened to Qin Zhaoran, occasionally nodding.

Qiao Mo didn’t care for too much haste and hurriedly ran forward.

His gaze paused briefly, landing on her.

Her hair was messily tied up, revealing a slender snow-white neck, her face showing signs of anxiety as she rushed towards Qin Zhaoran, wholly ignoring him.

"Mr. Qin, how did my brother suddenly become critically ill? He was fine before..."

Due to her urgency, Qiao Mo’s voice quivered slightly.

Ever since Qin Zhaoran agreed to perform surgery on Qiao Xuan, she had felt reassured, never thinking that Qiao Xuan would still... end up in this situation.

She didn’t dare to think, didn’t dare to imagine Qiao Xuan would leave her like that.

Upon hearing, Fu Nancheng also paused, looking up at Qin Zhaoran, questioning: Are you saying Qiao Xuan is critically ill?

Qin Zhaoran adjusted his glasses, ignoring a certain man’s gaze: "His condition is stable now, the surgery is prepared immediately, avoiding unnecessary delays."

Qiao Mo nodded, choking up slightly: "Doctor Qin, my brother... I’m counting on you."

"Mm, I’ll do my best."

With that, Qin Zhaoran glanced at Fu Nancheng, clearly conveying: I’ve called the person for you, don’t disturb my sleep next time!

Fu Nancheng’s gaze was faint: Go into the operating room, don’t be an eyesore here!

Soon after, Qiao Mo watched as Qiao Xuan was pushed into the operating room, and the light turned on.

In the corridor, only she and Fu Nancheng were left.

But at this moment, she really had no energy to deal with him, choosing a chair farthest from him to sit, her gaze fixed on the direction of the operating room, evidently without any intention to speak to him.

His thin lips slightly pursed, his gaze lightly fell on her, without making a sound.

Until two hours later, at two in the morning, the cold night grew deeper.

Qiao Mo hugged her arms, feeling cold and tired, her face full of exhaustion.

Suddenly, she felt warmth, a coat placed on her, carrying a faint cool scent...

Subconsciously lifting her head, she met his deep eyes.

Qiao Mo lowered her eyes, attempting to return the coat to him.

He frowned, but grabbed the collar from her hand, fastening it tightly over her, in a deep voice: "Wear it."

His fingertips inadvertently brushed against her fingers, slightly cool, Qiao Mo’s eyelashes lightly trembled, silently not speaking.

This waiting lasted from night until dawn.

By early morning, past six, the sunrise outside had risen, orange-red light scattering across the entire corridor through the hospital windows.

Sitting in the chair, Qiao Mo felt somewhat fatigued, her previously tense nerves gradually relaxing and numbing.

The early winter morning held a chill, but fortunately, wearing his coat made her much warmer.

Qiao Mo’s gaze fell on the operating room, growing increasingly anxious.

He said about six hours, it should be soon...

Her hands warmed, feeling a cup of hot water, she glanced at him for a few seconds, lowered her eyes, and softly said: "Thank you."

Her voice was polite and distant, even her gaze was so indifferent, causing a stabbing pain to rise in his heart.

Forty minutes later.

The light in the operating room suddenly went out, and Qin Zhaoran, along with several doctors, emerged pushing the hospital bed, his expression showing signs of fatigue.