"Mingshou, let go, let go of it..."
Seeing Fu Mingshou's actions, Zhao Yali screamed and lunged forward, grabbing Fu Mingshou's hand, trying to snatch the oxygen mask away.
On the hospital bed, Wen Yiming's face was flushed, looking as if he could barely catch his breath.
"Mingshou, let go, I'm begging you, I'm begging you..."
Zhao Yali desperately pleaded, her long nails digging deeply into Fu Mingshou's hand, finally managing to get the oxygen mask back and placing it over Wen Yiming's mouth and nose.
As she helped regulate Wen Yiming's breathing, Zhao Yali kept wiping her tears, feeling utterly hopeless inside.
Knowing that suffocating Wen Yiming was useless, Fu Mingshou stood up straight, patting the non-existent dust from his sleeves, and coldly said to Wen Yiming, "Write an IOU, write that you owe me 14 billion, then repay me with your assets, Wen's estate, and the lives of your wife and children. You'll eventually pay it off."
