After delivering his warning, Xie Shiba sat on the ground, groaning, "Ow, ow." None of his earlier swagger remained.
It was as though that earlier display had all been an act for Professor Han.
He leaned against the earthen wall like a frostbitten eggplant or a cucumber wilted in the sun. Blood poured from his wounds, but he paid it no mind. He picked up a cigarette beside him, felt around in his pocket, and cursed.
His matches were soaked. They were useless.
His blood flowed uncontrollably, winding out from beneath him like flowers blooming and fruit forming.
A person could live without a heart. But what Xie Shiba had just asked was whether a person could live without a heart, not whether he was bleeding.
The yellow, sandy soil here had excellent drainage and absorbed water readily.
The blood was absorbed almost as soon as it emerged, yet Xie Shiba was like a sack of blood with an inexhaustible supply. Even the notebook, cigarettes, and matches beside him were soaked through and swollen.
He was still fine.
Helplessly, Xie Shiba lowered his head, hiding his face from Professor Han.
Professor Han weakly glanced at the blood before him and shifted aside in distaste, unwilling to let it get on him.
Even draining a whole Niu would not produce as much blood as Xie Shiba had shed. As for whether Xie Shiba might bleed to death, Professor Han had never considered it.
When someone could still speak after losing his heart,
you stopped wondering whether he might die from blood loss.
There was no point looking for scientific laws in something unscientific.
Once Professor Han relaxed a little, pain swept through his entire body like a landslide and a Tsunami. Even with his regular exercise, he could not help groaning,