Their white uniforms stood out conspicuously under the dim yellow light, like angels guarding every life.
The scent of the hospital was somewhat pungent, the air filled with a faint smell of disinfectant and the steady beeping of an electrocardiogram.
In a corner of the corridor, there was a door ajar, and through the gap, one could see a patient lying quietly in the bed inside.
Their breathing merged with the ticking of machines.
At the end of the hallway, a window was open, allowing a view of the moon outside.
The night at the hospital was also a battleground where life and time raced against each other.
In the intensive care unit, the medical staff kept a constant vigil on the patients' vital signs, carrying out various treatments in a tense and orderly manner.
Their gazes were focused and resolute, as if wrestling every minute and every second from the grip of the Grim Reaper.
