Husband.
Chu Xinghe looked down at the pale as paper, completely drained of color, Chu Zhiyi, and finally handed her over to Yan Jingting's embrace.
He did not rush to retreat, slightly lifting his gaze, "A reminder for you, losing too much blood can also kill a person."
Yan Jingting brushed him off and, with a grim expression, sped off towards where the car was parked in his wheelchair.
His hand was on Chu Zhiyi's back, the warm and sticky feeling turned scalding hot, like boiling water, continuously flowing out from her wound.
Her breathing seemed to grow weaker, and the hand resting on his leg felt so cold it seemed devoid of any temperature.
Yan Jingting held her hand, which was trembling slightly, the blood as cold as ice.
The car door was swiftly opened by Ah Li, and Yan Jingting carried her into the car, breathing heavily, his murderous aura unabated, "Go to the nearest hospital."