Having finished the phone call, Jian Qing lay on the bed, a captivating smile creeping onto her rosy lips, with the image of a handsome face vividly emerging in her mind's eye.
Her gaze fell on the sketchpad by the floor-to-ceiling window; the artwork on the paper was still unfinished, but she could roughly make out the enchanting face of a man.
Goodnight, Xiaojing!
…
Private Hospital in Beijing, VIP ward
The 'beep-beep' of medical equipment echoed in the ward, the air thick with the mixed stench of alcohol and medicine, a bit nauseating.
"Chengcheng, please talk to mommy, utter a word," pleaded An Man, sitting at the bedside. She looked at her motionless son on the bed, her hands reaching out but hesitated to touch him, afraid she might accidentally hurt him.
When the doctor's diagnosis was announced, An Man fainted on the spot. Ever since regaining consciousness, her tears had barely stopped.
