Hot wife from 70s made a lot of money after divorce

In the hospital where disinfectant was scattered, the woman clamped her neck hard and said with extreme cruelty in her voice: "Divorce me, hurry up!" The suffocating despair was overwhelming, and the veins in Song Hengjue's hands digging into the bed sheets bulged. As if suppressing great pain, he still gritted his teeth and said the same words as last time: "You have a beautiful thought."

Yang Qingheng's cold face was frightening, and the cruelty in her eyes made people dare not doubt the authenticity of her words: "Then go to hell!"

Song Hengjue was not frightened by her, a pleasant smile appeared on the corner of his mouth, and his deep black eyes greedily locked on her every move.

Normally, he would have looked affectionate, but now his lips were black and blue due to suffocation, and his pupils shrank suddenly, making people feel weird and sick.

Lips move.

It was silent, but Yang Qingheng understood it - "You love me."

"Bitch, bitch, who loves you? You're crazy!" When she didn't get the answer she wanted, she broke down emotionally and kept venting on him. Her nails dug into his throat, bleeding, and it was scarlet.

She doesn't love him, how could she love him, idiot.

It would be great to kill him. Kill him and let him go down to accompany her. They should go to hell together.

Yang Qingheng looked at her closed eyes, shook her hands, and after stumbling a few times, she dialed the number: "The patient in ward 307 has fainted."

There seemed to be a smell of blood in her breath, and her face was pale.

Meng Xu hesitated, then reached out and patted her shoulder gently.

Yang Qingheng watched the nurses and doctors swarming in from a distance, with an indifferent expression: "Let's go."

"I believe he would really like to spend his last moments with you." Her eyes were like a pool of stagnant water, unable to see the glory of the past at all, and Meng Xu couldn't bear it.

Yang Qingheng looked in the direction of the ward in a daze. The streets behind her were bustling with people, but all the excitement no longer belonged to her.

"Tell him to let him watch me grow old, ugly, and watch me die? If it was Dr. Meng who was sick, would you tell Miss Lu too?"

Meng Xu's words of persuasion were stuck in his throat. He was silent for a few seconds and then opened the car door for her.

…………

Yang Qingheng hugged her knees and stared blankly ahead. To be precise, she didn't stare, but stared at the air in a daze.

Since the tumor compressed the optic nerve last week, her eyes have become increasingly blurry, and now she can't even feel any light, and it's completely dark.

She blinked her eyes and suddenly said to the air: "Dr. Meng, is the sun not shining today? It's so cold."

There was only a temporary nanny to take care of her in this house. When the aunt heard that she was going to die, she felt unlucky and swore she would never come here except when cooking.

Only Meng Xu would come over to see her occasionally when he was free, probably to feel pity for her.

In the past, when someone pitied her, she would be angry, but now she feels tired even if she is angry, and she just wants to have a good sleep.

Meng Xu looked at the bright sun in the yard, his nose was sore, and he forced himself to pretend to be natural: "Yeah, it's probably going to rain. Do you want me to light a stove for you?"

"Well," Yang Qingheng held her chin and touched the stick next to her, "No need, I can't destroy it even if it rises. Just lie down."

Meng Xu stepped forward to help her, but she brushed him away.

"I have crutches, so you don't need them. Don't delay your work because of me."

Meng Xu opened his mouth, but froze when he saw a familiar face outside the yard, and sighed: "Okay, then call me if you need anything."

There were two numbers on her phone, one for the hospital and one for him. Even so, she always dialed the wrong number.

Yang Qingheng ignored the same words he said day after day. She tapped her crutches left and right to estimate the distance between the bed and sat on the edge of the bed. She only took the quilt for half a minute, almost eagerly wrapping her whole body in it. It was airy and only one face was exposed.

She was frighteningly pale, and her fingers subconsciously pressed the end of her eyes, as if there were more wrinkles.

Yang Qingheng began to feel happy about her decision again. At least, Song Hengjue would not see her half-dead and ugly look.