After I Died, My Boyfriend Dissected Me in Class

When I was crazily abused by the gangsters, my boyfriend was in the hospital with his little Qingmei. On the verge of death, I finally got through his phone. But the man's tone was extremely cold: "Don't make trouble, Shuangshuang has a sprained ankle. If you have anything else, wait until I get home." He hung up the call on me and missed the best time for my treatment. Later, as a forensic doctor, he was assigned to handle a murder case. He analyzed the age, body shape, appearance, and even the specific job of the deceased. The only thing he didn't analyze was that I was the one he dissected.