Yet, upon reconsideration, thinking of her current status and excessively ruthless means, Qiao Mo felt relieved once more.
Qiao Mo quietly walked over to him and sat down, feeling at a loss for a moment: "Mr. Fu, my brother's illness..."
Fu Nancheng was flipping through the newspaper in his hand. Upon hearing her, he raised his eyes and glanced at her indifferently, then took a card out of his wallet and tossed it directly in front of Qiao Mo: "The password is six zeros."
Qiao Mo tightly grasped the card in her palm, carefully putting it away.
Watching her back, Fu Nancheng spoke again: "Tomorrow I will call Zhaoran, you can discuss the surgery time with him."
Qiao Mo's eyes welled up, and she said softly, "Thank you."
Fu Nancheng glanced at her indifferently and didn't speak further.
The room fell silent again, and Qiao Mo curled up in the corner of the sofa, covering herself with a blanket, staring intently at the news on the television.
