"Hmm." Meng Heming put down the newspaper in his hand and said in a deep voice.
Uncle Ma said no more, as there was no room for negotiation once the gentleman made his decision.
"I'll go inform the doctor." Uncle Ma looked wistful.
In the chief doctor's eyes, Meng Heming was probably a disobedient patient; over the years, he hadn't shown much care for his own health.
After Uncle Ma left, only one person remained in the ward.
Meng Heming got out of bed. Wearing hospital clothes, he showed no sign of illness; instead, there was an indescribable aloofness and clarity about him.
Standing before the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the densely packed buildings and crisscrossing roads below, the melancholy in his eyes gradually darkened.
"Buzz buzz buzz..."
In the cold, quiet hospital room, the sharp vibration of a phone echoed, sounding distinctly jarring in the silence.
