The reporters didn't care about Wen Zhiyuan's life or death, the more she screamed, the more excited everyone was.

I wish I was pushing her to be anxious, and in the case of not choosing her words, she might be able to get some breaking news.

At this time, the movement of the infusion room finally alarmed the female doctor in the office.

She walked out quickly, and her face was full of astonishment when she saw this scene.

"Go away, don't shoot me!"

The infusion needle on the back of Wen Zhiyuan's hand punctured the blood vessels because of her struggle, and blood beads instantly stained the back of her hand.

She didn't care about this, and kept dodging near the hospital bed.

"Brother Yan, Brother Yan......"

She called out loudly, but no one answered.

The female doctor was already frightened, and she quietly returned to the office, intending to call the police on the phone.

The sharp-eyed media saw her, and immediately rushed over, holding the microphone and asking, "Hello, we are reporters, may I ask Wen Zhiyuan what disease she has?"

"Yes, doctor, she hid here for treatment, is she pregnant?"

The elderly female doctor saw the microphone and camera for the first time, she subconsciously tidied up her clothes, pulled her hair back, and said with a straight look: "She has a wound in her abdomen, and she is doing anti-inflammatory treatment here!"

Is it a caesarean section?

It's so easy to think crookedly!

At this moment, the eyes of the reporters flashed with fire, like a fox meeting meat.

They wanted to ask a few more questions, but someone outside shouted, "Keep up, don't let her run!"

Wen Zhiyuan was petite, and when he was mediating with reporters, he took the opportunity to escape through the gap on the side of the bed.

She wore no coat or shoes, and she opened the door and ran out, followed by reporters who were chasing after her.

Wen Zhiyuan was very embarrassed, the hard ground and scattered stones pierced the soles of her feet in an instant, but she didn't dare to stop.

This group of journalists is crazy.

Someone must have deliberately designed her.

Wen Zhiyuan was thinking as he ran, his eyes were not clear, but he was angry and gloomy.

Yan Shiqi!

It's definitely her.

In the whole world, who can alarm so many media and paparazzi to chase and intercept her, except for Yan Shiqi, he doesn't think about it.

Wen Zhiyuan, who was in a rage, endured the discomfort all over his body and the sharp pain like tearing his lower abdomen, gritted his teeth and took out his mobile phone from his pocket.

But the action of running made it impossible for her to press the phone number accurately.

Just as Wen Zhiyuan was anxious, a black van turned steeply from the intersection ahead.

The reporters were about to catch up, and the van stopped at Wen Zhiyuan's side with a sudden brake, the back door opened, and the people inside shouted, "Get in the car!"

Wen Zhiyuan pinched his mobile phone and got in, the front of the car turned around, and disappeared at the end of the intersection in the blink of an eye.

The reporters ran nearly 100 meters, but they still couldn't catch up with Wen Zhiyuan.

Someone stood in place with the microphone panting, but he didn't forget to urge the camera to continue shooting, "That license plate number, take a picture?"

The camera was watching the replay, and the cameraman from another media shouted in a deep voice, "I took a shot, this car is blocking the number plate, report him when I turn around!"

In the van, Wen Zhiyuan sat on the floor, not embarrassed.

The back of her hands was bright red blood, and the socks on her feet were jet black, and there were a little blood oozing out.

At this time, the man sitting firmly in the leather chair looked at Wen Zhiyuan with interesting eyebrows and eyes, and he sneered: "Without my protection, look at you, how can you live like a lost dog!"