"We can only prolong his life."
Tang Yuxin closed the medical record. As for how long he could live, it depended on his fate. She was sorry that she couldn't save him; she wasn't Fairy Daluo; she was truly just an ordinary person.
If his leg had been broken, his arm broken, or even if he had suffered fractures all over his body, there would be a chance for recovery. Regardless of how well the recovery went, at the very least, his life could be saved. But he had chosen such a method: the poison had entered all his organs. It wasn't something that could just be treated and cured. Up to now, the mortality rate for consuming pesticide was one hundred percent. Even after a decade or more, it remained the same—no effective treatment had been found.
When the couple heard what Tang Yuxin had said, they also began to cry out loud, holding their heads in grief.
And now, aside from crying, all they could do was cry. Even the doctors couldn't save their son; they were even more helpless.