“What? You don’t want your son to live?”
This sentence made Song Siyin stunned.
After she finished painting, she held Caleb’s hand, closed her eyes, and stroked Caleb’s lips with her index finger.
She closed her eyes as if she was praying silently, and soon, even the medical staff could not see it right.
The pattern she painted on Caleb’s face with blood, gradually sinks into Caleb’s cheek, the traces are fading visible to the naked eye.
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