Tara Summer greeted with a smile as Old Sir White led them to the third floor, to Bryan White's room.
"HI!" As soon as the bedroom door opened, Bryan White, lying on the bed, raised his hand to greet them, seemingly in good spirits.
However, when he moved, perhaps too vigorously, it pulled at his wound, and he involuntarily let out a hissing sound of pain.
"You little rascal, behave yourself!" Seeing this, Old Sir White hurried over to hold him down, glowering at him and said, "If you want to keep lying there for a year or even longer, just keep moving around like that!..."
"A year or more?" Bryan couldn't help but laugh, "Dad, your son got shot, I'm not in a vegetative state. Ten days to half a month will do ' it doesn't take a year and a half! Don't exaggerate!"
"You scamp!" Old Sir White gave his head a pat but couldn't help cracking a smile, the corners of his mouth lifting.
