However, Song Wenchuan did not look like he was waking up anytime soon. He lay on the bed peacefully like a corpse that wasn't breathing.
The doctor said he was too exhausted and didn't want to wake up.
Song Yaoyao pulled out a red string from her pocket which was tied into a safety knot.
She grabbed Song Wenchuan's hand and tied it around his wrist.
To replenish his nutrients, connecting a drip had become a ritual. There were bruises all over the back of his hand caused from inserting needles. Song Yaoyao took a glance and looked away; her hand could sense the pain.
Song Wenchuan had lost a lot of weight. In the past, he was at an average weight, but now he was just skin and bones; even his fingers were protruding. He looked so fragile that it seemed like he could easily snap in half.
The red string made him look extra pale; it was like a string of blood.
