A hush fell over the ward. Gong Zhu stood to the side, listening to their conversation, her eyes welling up with tears. She felt gratitude for the sacrifices made by soldiers like Huo Hua, and for the understanding and respect shown by military wives like Ming Zhao.
At the military hospital, she witnessed countless injuries and the tears of military wives, and she was always compassionate towards them. Yet, she was still moved by their stories.
Mingzhao put down the water in front of her and looked away. She said softly, "I'll go fetch some water."
Gongzhu gave Mingzhao a temporary pass for this place, after all, the people living on this floor were all of extraordinary status, so she was extra cautious.
After Mingzhao left, Gongzhu came over to check Huo Hua's wound. Seeing that there was nothing wrong, she still reminded him to be careful.
Howard nodded helplessly.
——
The cold air in the corridor gave Mingzhao a slight jolt.
She carried the enamel mug towards the boiler room at the end of the corridor. Her steps remained light.
Just as she passed the bench at the corner of the corridor, she heard a suppressed, extremely faint sob.
Mingzhao paused in his steps.
On the bench sat a familiar figure: Professor Liu Wenjun.
She was hunched over, her hands covering her face, her shoulders trembling slightly, and suppressed sobs escaped from between her fingers, filled with despair and helplessness.
Beside her was a thermos, the lid open, and the food inside looked almost untouched.
Mingzhao stood quietly a few steps away, watching Liu Wenjun's trembling figure.
She hesitated for a moment, then walked over and placed the enamel mug on the windowsill beside her, her voice very soft: "Professor Liu?"
Liu Wenjun trembled and slowly raised her head. When she saw Mingzhao, she hurriedly wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand, trying to force a smile, but it looked worse than crying.
"Mingzhao? How come you... are Commander Huo?"
"He's awake, I've come to see him."
Mingzhao answered calmly, her gaze fixed on Luo Zuoliu Wenjun's swollen eyes and the almost untouched thermos, filled with gentle concern: "What happened to you...?"
Liu Wenjun was taken aback by Mingzhao's blunt question, and then a surge of immense grief overwhelmed her again. She could no longer hold back, tears welling up in her eyes, her voice choked and broken: "It's...it's Jiang Feng...his...his leg..."
"During this operation... he lost a leg to a bomb..."
Liu Wenjun closed her eyes in anguish: "The surgery was a success, her life was saved... but... but..."
She couldn't continue, covering her face with her hands again, sobbing uncontrollably, "He can't accept it... He's always been such a proud person... so arrogant... Now... now he's lost a leg... He can't accept becoming a cripple..."
"He locks himself in his hospital room all day, refusing to see anyone... and not eating... He can't get over this mental hurdle..."
He was in pain... and she was in pain too...
But no matter how she tried to persuade Jiang Feng, he suppressed his anger and never even lost his temper with Liu Wenjun.
But Liu Wenjun preferred that he vent his frustrations.
Instead of bottling up all your negative emotions inside.
The sudden loss of a leg by a once swift and sharp-witted national security elite is tantamount to destroying his entire spiritual pillar.
Mingzhao listened in silence. She recalled the first time she met Jiang Feng; his cold, sharp eyes, which seemed to see through everything, and the steady, mountain-like power emanating from him, were all unforgettable.
Now, that mountain has collapsed.
Mingzhao asked, "Which ward is he in? I'd like to visit him."
Liu Wenjun sighed: "Forget it, you shouldn't go... Let him be alone and have some peace and quiet, maybe..."
“I’ll go and see. After all, Captain Jiang has been kind to me. Now that I know about it, I should go and visit him.”
Liu Wenjun was surprised to find that Mingzhao could talk so much, but she was only surprised for a moment and did not think much of it. She pointed to the ward for Mingzhao.
"At...at the other end of the corridor...Special Care Unit 403."
Mingzhao nodded without saying anything more, picked up the enamel mug, and turned to walk in the direction Liu Wenjun was pointing.
Liu Wenjun watched her retreating figure, feeling a surge of emotion.
In any case, it's already quite good that someone remembered to visit Jiang when he was injured.
Maybe we can offer some guidance to Lao Jiang?
She was genuinely afraid—afraid that Lao Jiang would become despondent and lose himself. She knew that if Lao Jiang lived like that, living a humble life, he would only feel worse than dead.
The door to ward 403, the special care unit, was tightly closed, and guards were standing at the door as well.
Mingzhao showed the temporary pass that Gongzhu had given her, explained her purpose, and after the guard checked it, hesitated for a moment before opening the door for her.
An atmosphere even more oppressive and suffocating than Howard's ward filled the air. The curtains were drawn tighter, and the light was so dim that it was almost impossible to see.
The room was dark, with only the faint light from the instrument screens.
On the hospital bed, a figure with his back to the door was curled up in the shadows, like a lone wolf licking its wounds alone.
The area covered by the blanket had a noticeable gap on one side.
On the ground, overturned lunchboxes and broken enamel bowls were scattered, with food and soup spilled everywhere, creating a mess.
Clearly, someone had tried to bring food in earlier, but encountered fierce resistance.
Mingzhao seemed oblivious to the mess on the floor. She gently closed the door, picked up the enamel mug, and walked to the bedside.
"Let me have some peace and quiet. Can you go outside first?" The voice was deathly still, with a hint of brokenness.
It was Jiang Feng's voice, but it lacked his usual cold and composed demeanor.
Mingzhao didn't stop. She walked to the bedside, gently placed the enamel mug down, making a soft "tap" sound.
Jiang Feng opened his eyes.
"It's you?"
"I heard you lost your leg," Mingzhao said bluntly.
Jiang Feng forced a smile: "You're here to comfort me too?"
"No, I want to design a leg for you?"
After saying that, Mingzhao walked to the bedside, ignoring Jiang Feng's astonished gaze, picked up the medical record book on his bedside table that recorded his injuries and had X-ray images printed on it, and picked up a pencil that had fallen off at some point and had no cap.
She turned to a blank page.
Under the watchful eyes of Jiang Feng and Liu Wenjun, who was anxiously peeking through the crack in the door, Mingzhao took the pencil and made the first stroke on the blank page of the medical record.
The pen tip glides across the paper, making a soft rustling sound.
It's not text.
It's lines!
She's drawing!
The ward was deathly silent, like a vacuum.
Only the sharp, clear scratching of a pencil tip across rough medical record paper was chilling. The sound carried a cold, undeniable rhythm, as if announcing the arrival of a new era.
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