After tossing out those three words, Nan Huaiyu went upstairs.
Turning the corner, his dim eyes grew colder. He took out his phone from his pocket, composed a ssage, and sent it.
————
The servant quietly brought over so hangover tea, softly advising Nan Wan to apologize to Nan Chengzhi, but Nan Wan pretended not to hear.
Staying up at night wasn’t a big deal for her; after all, even if she lay down in bed, she wouldn’t necessarily be able to sleep.
A sick doctor, it sounds quite ironic.
Zhi i only returned close to one in the morning, her face full of fatigue, clearly having rushed ho straight from the operating table.
Seeing Nan Wan didn’t surprise her. She went to the kitchen, poured two glasses of water, handed one to Nan Wan, and sat down beside her, gently stroking Barton’s head, "Who’d you piss off this ti?"
She had caused such a big commotion this ti, even if it didn’t kill anyone with anger, it surely caused so internal injuries.
The entire hospital had been buzzing in the afternoon; almost everyone knew about the Nan Family’s third daughter being wild and indiscreet. Even if they didn’t dare talk about it in front of her, they certainly gossiped behind her back.
"You think too highly of ," Nan Wan took the glass of water and drank a few sips, "If they really died of anger, I’d be setting off firecrackers in celebration now."
Shen Zhii looked at the person in front of her. The area around her eyes was red, but it didn’t seem like she had been crying; it was dry.
Wrapped in a hard shell, draped in a thin, cool, indifferent facade, she clearly longed for warmth but was afraid of embracing it.
Her peripheral vision caught sight of the wound on Nan Wan’s knee, but her expression didn’t change. She took out a band-aid from her bag, "Rember to call over when that happens."
Her movents were gentle. To be honest, Nan Wan had never seen any girl more gentle and serene than Zhi i—her long black hair and classical beauty were simply perfect.
No one knew what good deeds Nan Ze did in his past life to marry such a wife.
As she reached over with the band-aid, Nan Wan noticed the bruising on her wrist, stark against her fair skin, "That bastard harassed you again?"
"Can’t help it, too pretty," Zhi i didn’t hide it and lifted Nan Wan’s skirt to stick the band-aid onto her wound, "You jealous?"
Her voice was consistently soft, with a hint of playfulness.
Suddenly, Nan Wan rembered the tis at school: the first bewildernt during her nstrual cycle, the first pain of losing a loved one, the first fear of dissecting a white mouse, the first frustration at watching a patient die...
They went through it all together.
At 26, she’s not old, but not young either. Youth had already slipped through her fingers without her noticing, impossible to grasp.
She had never known when Nan Ze, that old cow, had started wooing this young beauty. Thinking back now, the clues had been there long ago.
"Shen Zhii."
"Hmm?"
"How long will you wait for my brother?"
"Until he wakes up."
"If... he doesn’t wake up?"
"Then... I’ll go accompany him."
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