Then, she looked at Ye Qingliu deeply again, as if she wanted to engrave the image of this young man who gave her warmth and hope in the cold night into her heart.
She held the cloth bag, her steps still unsteady, but with an unprecedented strength, as if infused with vitality, she walked step by step firmly towards the old town.
This time, under the dim street lights, her back seemed no longer so hunched and no longer so desperate.
Ye Qingliu stood there, watching the old and tough figure gradually blend into the depths of the night until it was completely out of sight.
The cold wind was still biting, lifting the corners of his dark gray cashmere coat.
He raised his hand and pushed the silver-rimmed glasses on his nose. His gray-blue eyes were as calm as before behind the lenses, as if the brief and tender episode just now had never happened.
However, when he turned around to leave, his fingertips seemed to unconsciously rub the interlayer of the briefcase with the Nightingale logo printed on it.
At this moment, the door of the black car parked under the rain corridor opened, and the driver, Old Chen, walked over quickly, with a look of just the right amount of respect and concern on his face: "Master, are you okay? That old man just now..."
"Nothing." Ye Qingliu's voice returned to its usual coolness, interrupting his question. He walked towards the car, his steps steady and calm.
Old Chen quickly opened the car door for him.
Ye Qingliu sat in the warm carriage and put his briefcase beside him.
The car started smoothly and merged into the city traffic. The dazzling night scene outside the window quickly receded.
He leaned back in the soft leather seat and closed his eyes.
In her mind, she clearly recalled the desperate look in the old man's eyes as he tightly protected the cloth bag, and the turbid tears that gushed out of her eyes when she took the card.
Deep in those gray-blue eyes, beneath the frozen lake surface, an extremely subtle warm current silently surged.
He recalled some vaguer, more distant fragments. It seemed that when he was very young, he had been very sick, with a high fever that wouldn't go away and blurred consciousness.
All around were cold instruments and swaying figures in white coats with serious expressions, and the air was filled with the pungent smell of disinfectant.
At that time, there was also a pair of warm hands, not from my parents, but from an auntie whose face I can no longer remember, wearing the same white coat? Or maybe a nurse?
Those hands gently wiped the sweat from his forehead, their movements clumsy but full of patience. The man didn't say much to comfort him, but just quietly stayed by the bed, using a warm towel to repeatedly apply to the back of his small hand, which was cold from the infusion.
That silent, clumsy, non-questioning protection and warmth was like an anchor in the darkness, calming his chaotic fears.
This feeling strangely overlapped with the old man's action of protecting the cloth bag.
He took out his cell phone and the screen lit up, illuminating his handsome profile.
He opened an encrypted messaging app and found a contact named "Foundation Director Lin." His slender fingers tapped quickly on the screen, issuing a concise command:
Uncle Lin, please be aware of the potential request for assistance from an elderly woman surnamed Sun (female, approximately 70 years old, with a Jiangcheng accent, suspected to be seriously ill). After verifying her information, we will activate the A-level green channel and provide full assistance, regardless of cost. Funds will be paid from my personal account. Ye Qingliu.
After sending the message, he put away his phone and looked out the window at the dark night again.
The car drove steadily towards the Ye family villa, as if heading towards a silent and warm harbor.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
