"Xiuling, this is wrong," Shen Rongqing said, lowering her voice. "Bao Yingchen is barely hanging on by a thread, desperately making it back to the hall. He should at least find someone to help him with the poison."
Zhang Xiuling, holding a notebook, was busy documenting this touching scene. She perfunctorily replied to Shen Rongqing, "Perhaps the poison he's afflicted with has no antidote."
Shen Rongqing shook her head repeatedly. "Even if there's no antidote, he's already returned to his own territory. He should at least try to find someone."
Zhang Xiuling wrote faster and faster. "Perhaps Patriarch Bao has long viewed life and death with indifference."
"What kind of joke is that? We're talking about life and death! There's only one life; who doesn't want to live? Rather than finishing his last words here, he should at least give himself a chance to survive."
Zhang Xiuling chuckled. "This is a state of mind, Rongqing. Do you understand the state of mind here?"
