Like someone seeing a savior, Aunt Carter grabbed Nurse Foster's arm tightly. “Nurse Foster, how is my son?”

Looking into those anxious, hopeful eyes, Nurse Foster felt a pang of sorrow, as if seeing her own mother, and for a long moment couldn’t find the words to speak.

“What is this?” Helen Carter already sensed something was wrong. Suddenly, she noticed the slip of paper in her hand, snatched it over, and after just one glance, nearly collapsed to the floor.

“Aunt Carter!” Nurse Foster hurriedly helped her to sit down. “We... we’ve already done our best.”

“No, no, you’re lying to me.” Aunt Carter muttered to herself, clutching the critical condition notice in her hand as if it were the last straw she could grasp.

“Xiulan, how is Yifei?” A middle-aged man rushed in, shouting at the top of his lungs, panting heavily.

“You’re Lin Yifei’s father, Ping Brooks?” Nurse Foster asked.

The middle-aged man nodded repeatedly. Suddenly, he caught sight of the slip in Helen Carter's hand, his face changed dramatically, and he snatched it over. After glancing at it twice, although he didn’t collapse, his hand began to tremble violently.

The ward was deathly silent. After a long while, Ping Brooks finally asked in a low voice, “How much hope is left?”

Nurse Foster bit her lip. “The patient no longer has any brain signals, which means he is essentially brain dead.”

Ping Brooks shuddered all over. Aunt Carter cried out in agony, “No, Xiaofei.” With a loud cry, she tried to rush out.

Hurriedly holding his wife back, Ping Brooks managed to stay relatively calm. “Is there really no hope at all?”

After hesitating for a moment, Nurse Foster's tone grew heavy as well. “Dr. Sullivan said to observe for a day. For now, we’re using a ventilator and cardiovascular drugs to maintain his heartbeat. If there are still no brainwaves tomorrow, then... then there’s no need for further treatment.”

Although Nurse Foster spoke tactfully, the meaning was clear at once. From the current medical perspective, brain death is already considered actual death. However, as long as the patient’s heart is still beating, no doctor dares to issue a death notice lightly. Otherwise, if they encounter irrational family members, a big scene is the least of their worries—if it goes to court, it becomes a real headache. All they can do now is maintain the patient’s heartbeat and leave the final decision to the family.

“I want to see Xiaofei. Please, let me see my child just once.” Helen Carter struggled desperately, already knowing that what she would see was most likely her son with no consciousness at all.

Ping Brooks finally managed to calm his wife down, though his own eyes were brimming with tears. The two had been married for over twenty years and had only this one son. To say they weren’t heartbroken would be a lie. Forcing himself to stay composed, he said, “Nurse, can you let my wife see our son?”

Nurse Foster hesitated for a moment. “You can, but only from outside the observation room. If you agree, I can take you there now.”

Ping Brooks slowly shook his head. “You take my wife. I want to see the attending doctor first.”

Nurse Foster nodded and called another nurse in. “Little Smith, take the patient’s family to see Dr. Sullivan.”

Watching as Nurse Foster and Emily Carter disappeared from view, Ping Brooks sighed, seeming to age several years in an instant. He glanced at the nurse in front of him, a trace of bitter smile on his lips. “Thank you.”

Dr. Sullivan was frowning, carefully examining the brain CT scan of the newly admitted patient, his expression extremely serious.

With his mask off, Dr. Sullivan looked to be in his thirties, with thick eyebrows and a square face, and already some gray at his temples. But his eyes behind the glasses were sharp and focused, staring unblinkingly at the CT scan in his hand. At last, he sighed, raised his head, and his gaze fell on Ping Brooks.

Ping Brooks's heart had already sunk, like a condemned man awaiting the judge’s verdict, his eyes filled with despair.

“This is the brain CT scan of the patient, Lin Yifei.” Dr. Sullivan hung up the film and pointed to a shadow on it. “This is the brainstem, the main trunk of the brain. It’s composed of the pons, medulla oblongata, and midbrain.”

Ping Brooks was completely at a loss. He was an architectural designer, but knew nothing about brain structure. He could only stare fixedly at his son’s brain CT scan, as if clinging to a lifeline.

“The first physiological sign of human life is the ability to breathe, and the central nervous region that controls breathing is located in the brainstem. From the CT scan, the patient’s brainstem has already suffered a hemorrhage,” Dr. Sullivan said gravely, though a trace of doubt arose in his heart. With his years of diagnostic experience, he could tell that the patient had massive bleeding in the chest cavity and severe concussion in the brain. It didn’t seem like a simple car accident, but rather as if he had been hit more than once.

A chill rose in his heart as he vaguely realized the truth of what had happened. Some drivers nowadays have lost even the most basic human conscience. After hitting a pedestrian, instead of trying to save them, some even turn around and run them over several more times, making sure the person is dead. Because in terms of compensation, killing someone is the end of it, but if the victim is severely injured, it could mean endless trouble.