She stepped out onto the balcony.
Yang Xinyi leaned on the railing, looking at the potted plants on the balcony, where flowers bloomed, green grasses thrived, and a cactus bristled with thorns.
From here, the hospital garden could be seen in the morning light.
On the walkway, many patients and their families were taking a stroll.
Some hobbled on crutches, some were being supported, and some were pushing wheelchairs,
including an elderly couple, both with silvery-white hair, well into their seventies.
The man sat in a wheelchair, his expression vacant, symptomatic of a stroke. The old woman pushed him, incessantly talking as if he could hear her.
Witnessing these scenes, Yang Xinyi felt touched.
In this world, what could be more important than growing old together?
And what could be more important than health?
