Zhao Yiming froze.
The adrenaline that had been surging through his veins suddenly faded, leaving behind only a chilling stillness.
His eyes were fixed on Jin Haolong's unmoving body, the blood pooling beneath him spreading like ink on a white page.
He wasn't breathing. He wasn't moving.
He probably died.
"W-What do we do?! What do we do?!" Su Meilin panicked, dropping to her knees as she reached out to check his pulse. But Zhao Yiming stopped her.
"No. Let me check..." His voice trailed off. "Meilin, go put your clothes on. Now."
Trembling, still only wrapped in a blanket, Su Meilin nodded shakily before rushing back into the master bedroom to get dressed—and to grab Yiming's clothes too.
He sighed, exhaling slowly. If the police got involved... at least her fingerprints wouldn't be on the body.
Zhao Yiming knelt and checked for a pulse.
Nothing.
He pressed his ear against Jin Haolong's chest.
No heartbeat. No breath.
