Yaocheng.
Now it was winter again, time had passed in a way that simply couldn't be described as 'fast'. It felt like one moment I was eighteen at the peak of my youth, and in the next, I might be fifty-eight?
That description was a bit exaggerated.
But when Yao Qing sat on the hospital bed, immobilized by bandages all over her body, these were the kinds of messy thoughts on her mind.
She watched the white clouds in the sky change shapes, feeling they somewhat resembled her current state of lying here like a corpse.
Actually, it was still good luck, her burns were very minor, it was only the bone fractures from the blast that were serious.
It was supposed to be a simple matter of bandaging, but some people just had to wrap her up like a cripple.
What was even more infuriating—
Yao Qing mustered all her strength to turn her head and look at the man beside the bed, meticulously peeling an apple with a small knife.
