Life and death have their fates, wealth and honor are predestined. This phrase might sound a bit idealistic, but sometimes, that's just how things are. You can't fight it even if you want to.
If the three shots Gao Yang took had been rifle rounds, or high-caliber handgun bullets with strong stopping power, he'd likely already be dead. But fate had it that the bullets that hit him were of smaller caliber, so even after getting shot three times, he survived. No choice—he's just that tough.
Finally, Gao Yang drifted into unconsciousness—or put bluntly, he passed out. At the same time, Albert let out a long sigh of relief. He pressed a clean piece of gauze to the wound and carefully bandaged it.
"Done?"
"Done."
"Why so fast?"
Albert shrugged and said, "That's just how medics work—everything is fast. Declaring someone dead? Quick. Saving someone's life? Also quick."
As Rafael and Albert conversed, Karima couldn't help but interrupt, "Shouldn't you stitch up his wounds?"
