His calm and composed demeanor nearly made the usually mature Qin Zhaoran flip the table in anger.
Having studied medicine for many years, he was well aware that no one could donate blood like this!
Not being able to consume overly nutritious supplements for an entire week, how could the body withstand it!
Qiao Mo stood aside, a trace of struggle flickering in her eyes, yet she remained silent.
Chenchen's illness had already exceeded her expectations, and the situation was becoming increasingly bleak.
The amount of blood required for the surgery was enormous, relying solely on Fu Nancheng would take an unknown amount of time.
Qin Zhaoran glanced at her, but in the end, she did not interfere.
With a grim expression, he inserted the needle and began to draw blood.
Watching the crimson blood flow through the needle tube, gradually filling the blood bag bit by bit.
Qiao Mo didn't know what she was feeling at this moment.
