Chapter Seventy-One: The Women of the Zhao Family Are All Devils

On one side, He Yurou noticed that both Lin Mo and Zhao Yiya were glaring at each other with open hostility. She immediately tried to ease the tension, forcing a smile as she said, “Uncle Lin, no matter how displeased you are with Yiya, she is still my uncle’s fiancée. Whether she should see him or not is something only my uncle can decide. After all, Yiya was right about one thing: ‘Neither of us really matters between the two of them.’”

Lin Mo glanced at Han Mo, who stood with him at the door, and lowered his voice. “Go and ask Zheyu what he wants.”

Not long after, Han Mo emerged from the hospital room, his expression cold as he addressed Zhao Yiya. “Boss says you may go in.”

At these words, Zhao Yiya’s face lit up with a smug smile. Before entering the room, she shot Lin Mo a half-mocking, half-sarcastic look. “You and that woman are like leeches clinging to Zheyu, desperate to suck him dry. If you annoy me, I have plenty of ways to rip you off him. Don’t believe me? Try me.” With a look of utter disdain, she gave Lin Mo one last glare and went inside.

Furious, Lin Mo shouted after her into the room, “He Zheyu, you’re a grade-A bastard!” In a fit of rage, he hurled He Zheyu’s medical chart at the doorway and stormed off.

Han Mo was also struggling with his emotions. Looking at He Yurou, who still stood there, he spoke without his usual respectful tone. “Miss He, are you satisfied now? You’re partly responsible for Mo Qinghan’s death, aren’t you? Boss won’t see you. You should leave.”

Filled with grievance, He Yurou gazed at Han Mo, her eyes brimming with tears, looking utterly pitiful. Her lips trembled as if she wanted to speak, but in the end, not a single word came out. Crestfallen, she turned and walked toward the elevator.

Inside the hospital room, before Lin Mo could let out his furious shout, Zhao Yiya had already quietly closed the door. Yet Lin Mo’s rebuke to He Zheyu still rang out loud and clear, echoing through the room so both He Zheyu and Zhao Yiya heard every word.

Gone was the arrogance that Zhao Yiya had displayed outside. Her voice now was as soft as a gentle breeze, whispering into He Zheyu’s ear, “Lin Mo is becoming more and more irritable. Perhaps you ought to consider changing your private doctor.”

He Zheyu said nothing in response. He simply rose from the hospital bed, his eyes as dark as ink, filled with an icy chill that seemed to freeze the very air in the room. Step by step, he advanced toward Zhao Yiya. The coldness in his gaze made her hair stand on end, and her voice faltered as she tried to speak, “Zhe… Yu… what are you…?”

Before she could finish, He Zheyu seized her by the throat, his grip murderous, his pupils dilating with rage. The pressure of his hand grew steadily stronger, and as Zhao Yiya teetered on the edge of suffocation, he finally released her with a look of utter disgust. Off balance, Zhao Yiya stumbled back and collapsed to the floor. The moment she was free, she began to cough violently, clutching her chest as tears sprang to her eyes.

Above her, He Zheyu’s voice fell like ice, cold and merciless: “So, you’re afraid of dying too? All the women in your family are heartless devils. First your aunt, and now you. For the empty title of ‘Mrs. He,’ you’d climb atop a throne built on corpses.”

Still collapsed on the floor and struggling to breathe, Zhao Yiya sobbed between coughs, “I didn’t…”