Brother Qi’s rehabilitation was grueling. Once the splints were removed, he spent every day in his room, practicing picking up objects with chopsticks.
The gunshot wounds on his body had closed, and although I hadn't seen the ones on his legs, the scars on his arms were glaring and horrific. They snaked from his shoulders down to his palms—a testament to how vicious those thugs had been.
The group of addicts was caught that same day, but because the victims weren't white, the case didn't draw much attention in America. They would be sentenced to decades in prison, but not death. Besides, they were penniless; there would be no significant compensation to be had.
Chapter 69