Li Huowang sat on his bed for several hours. Ultimately, he let out a long sigh, having calmed down completely.
Qian Fu was dead. Li Huowang had known him the longest and was saddened by his death. But the dead cannot be brought back to life, and thinking about him now was useless. What was more important now were the issues with Qing Wanglai that his death had exposed.
In the past, Li Huowang had always thought that aside from being somewhat arrogant and stubbornly believing his own ideas were always right, Qing Wanglai was otherwise normal. Clearly, he had been mistaken.
Qian Fu was very off, extremely off. The most troubling part was his emotions.
Faced with someone's death, even an acquaintance's, he didn't show a shred of concern. To Qing Wanglai, Qian Fu's death was even less important than the helmet on the ground.
Li Huowang had never seen this kind of behavior in a mental hospital. He didn't know what illness Qing Wanglai could possibly have.
