Mu Xiangwan returned to her room and continued to paint.
But, holding her brush pensively, she couldn't make a move. Later on, vexed and restless, she casually sketched a few strokes. When she took a closer look, the outline of the figure surprisingly resembled Su Chaoyang.
Panic flooding her heart, she tore the drawing off and crumbled it into a ball, throwing it into the trash can.
She stood up irritably, kicked the easel, and winced as pain shot through her big toe, which only served to irritate her further.
Just as she flopped onto the bed, bored, her phone rang out. Rising to check it, she unconsciously furrowed her eyebrows.
It was a call from Han Wenxuan.
These days, Han Wenxuan had been diligent with his calls, calling her every mealtime, and she was gradually growing frustrated with it.
Every time, he would ask when she would go to the hospital to visit him, and she didn't know how to respond.
