Gu Zechuan didn’t answer Xia He. He took her straight to the hospital, to Yang Qinglian’s room. There, Yang Qinglian laid unconscious on the sickbed, her face as white as snow.
"Xia He, you made my little Lian stillborn, and she lost a lot of blood. The hospital has no more reserve for her blood type. Your blood is a match. So whatever blood she lost, you will give her." Throwing this coldly at Xia He, Gu Zechuan turned to look at Yang Qinglian lovingly and caringly.
But Xia He was beyond maddening by Gu Zechuan’s words. "What does her stillborn have anything to do with me? What eyes of yours saw that I did anything to her? When it happened, I was in the study with you!"