"That's not possible!" Zhang Moyan said seriously with a slightly red cheek, "Your hand is so precious, how can there be any mistake? It's broken, and it's your right hand, and..." Zhang Moyan stopped talking and couldn't help but burst into tears again.
Xiao Xingyu looked at his injured little finger and said, "No, I'm gifted. Even if my hand is broken, I'm still better than others at using my feet."
"You're still talking nonsense." Zhang Moyan didn't like his joke at this time, and she felt a mixed feeling of reluctance. "You've been so pitiful recently. The injury on your back hasn't fully healed yet, and now your hand is broken. How could you be so unlucky? It's all physical pain."
Xiao Xingyu smiled slightly when he heard that, leaned towards her, and whispered in her ear, "I am just a beautiful woman with a tragic fate!"
A little after 8 p.m., the ambulance arrived at the Provincial People's Hospital. The specialist Xiao Xingyu had contacted was already waiting there. An X-ray confirmed the condition, as Xiao Xingyu had suspected—a fracture of the proximal phalanx of his right pinky finger. The specialist rushed him into the operating room without delay, and the surgery lasted over an hour.
Spring is a season of high incidence for various diseases, and the Provincial People's Hospital has been overcrowded recently, with a very tight bed capacity. Xiao Xingyu's sudden arrival prevented him from securing a VIP ward. Through various arrangements, he was able to avoid sleeping in the hallway and was temporarily accommodated in a double room.
－－－－－－Digression－－－－－－
Xiao Xingyu: I gradually feel that you are a very good author.
Author: You will know now. Just ask Feng Chen.
Xiao Xingyu: Are you really planning to update alone next month?
Author: I'll think about it again, but my mom told me today: "Don't write anymore. It hurts me to see how much thought you put into writing!"
Xiao Xingyu: Really? If you are so tired, I suggest you just arrange for Mo Yan to kiss, cuddle, sleep and give birth to a baby. Anyway, readers want to read these, so you can relax. No need to write those plots, no one cares
Yes, believe me!
Author: Uh... I can't tell for a moment whether you are thinking about me or yourself.
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