I Rely on the Law to Kill Wealthy Families

Outside the ICU door of the Third City Hospital, the pale light licked the tiled floor inch by inch, like ice water flowing over the insteps. Su Wanqing stood there, holding a payment slip in her left hand, and the corners of the paper had been deeply indented by her fingertips. The balance column is printed: 87,420 yuan. It's not an integer, it's a number that's accurate to the minute and is about to bottom out. The right wrist was clamped by two hands - the fingernails of the left one were embedded with ash and the tiger's mouth was calloused; the little finger on the right wore a badly worn silver ring, with the words "2015.08" Faintly visible on the inside of the ring. She didn't move or look at anyone, she just lowered her eyes and glanced at the pair of leather shoes on their feet: the paint was worn off on the outside of her right heel, and there were fine lines on the inside of her left toe. Take the stairs all year round.