Backstage medical room of the venue.
The medical staff had been forcibly thrown out by Wei Lang and Luoyu.
Li Qiao lay on the medical bed, looking up at the ceiling in a trance.
Shang Yu was silent the entire time, his thin lips pressed into a pale line, his expression serious and somber.
The medical facilities in the boxing gym were rudimentary, lacking even a diagnostic monitor aside from the essential medications.
The man pulled over the medical cart with one hand, selected a few vials of glucose, then tore open the syringe packaging and skillfully drew the glucose solution into the syringe.
Looking around, the white medical room only had Shang Yu's striking black figure constantly bustling around the sickbed.
He injected Li Qiao with a few shots of glucose, his glance occasionally sweeping over her cheek, shadows flickering in the depths of his eyes.
At that moment, Nan Xin's phone rang from her pocket.
