The Land Rover drove faster and faster, and Zhang Pingmin's frown became more and more relaxed. λη³κΏ turned down the air volume of the air conditioner. The clicking sound of the knob was particularly clear in the silence. "Little brother, I just said something harsh. Don't take it to heart."
I looked out the window at the poplar forest passing by, with snow still hanging on the treetops: "If I still get angry after hearing the truth, then I am too stupid."
He laughed heartily, the sound of a young boy, and suddenly turned onto the fork in the road. The asphalt road gradually turned into a smooth cement road, with newly planted ginkgo saplings standing in line on both sides in the cold wind.
Minutes later, a carved iron gate suddenly appeared, and the white marble pillars shone warmly in the sun.
"We're here." He stepped on the brakes and the roar of the engine fell silent. On the left pillar, the five large characters in Yan style read "Common People's Nursing Home" in vigorous and powerful style. On the right, the plaque with the words "Zhujun Rheumatism Treatment and Health Care Center" sways slightly in the wind.
We got out of the car together and stood at the door, gazing deeply at the two plaques, as if we were meeting close friends after a long absence, our eyes full of warmth and emotion.
I half-jokingly asked, "Isn't this one of your businesses?"
Before he finished speaking, a man in a white coat and glasses came up to him and said respectfully, "President Zhang, you are here."
Zhang Pingmin patted my shoulder and introduced me with a smile: "This is my little brother Guan Hongjun."
Then, he turned around and pointed to the doctor, introducing him, "This is Dr. Yu Song, the director of this hospital."
Yu Song stepped forward and shook my hand tightly, with a humble and sincere attitude: "Mr. Guan, hello. Dean Zhang was too polite just now. I am actually just the vice dean here. Dean Zhang is the real helmsman here."
Zhang Pingmin blew a breath of hot air into the air, and the white water vapor instantly formed white mist in the cold air. He blurted out: "In this weather, it's enough to freeze your chin off. Let's go in quickly." After that, he wrapped his mink coat tightly and stepped into the revolving door first.
Yu Song and I followed closely behind him. As we entered the hospital lobby, the smell of disinfectant mixed with the heat from the floor heating hit us.
Yu Song was about to lead us to the elevator, but Zhang Pingmin stopped and said, "Yu Song, let's go see Qin Zhujun first. How is she doing recently?"
Yu Song heard this, his eyes looked a little lonely: "Her condition recently...is not optimistic." His voice became deeper and deeper, "Rheumatoid arthritis is getting worse, and the symptoms of heart failure are not getting better."
Zhang Pingmin stopped suddenly, and his leather shoes made a crisp sound when they collided with the floor tiles. "Is there no other way?" she said anxiously, sadly.
"I have tried everything I could." Yu Song took off his glasses and wiped them. His eyes were bloodshot behind the lenses. "Imported special medicines, the latest treatment equipment...but her physical condition is too poor, I'm afraid..."
Zhang Pingmin was silent for a long time, then suddenly turned and walked to the end of the corridor. There was actually a flower and gift shop hidden there. The warm yellow light shone through the glass, stretching my shadow very long. I looked at the carnations and lilies filled with doubts.
"This is specially arranged by Director Zhang." Yu Song saw through my thoughts, "It's inconvenient to buy things around here, so let's make some space and open some small shops. It's convenient for patients and their families to buy things, and it provides jobs for some patients in recovery and subsidizes their daily expenses." He smiled bitterly, "It's said that the loss of this flower shop is greater than the sales volume, and it has been losing money."
I can't help but ask, "Why not just give patients a reduction in medical bills?"
Yu Song looked at Zhang Pingmin's back as he was selecting a bouquet of flowers, his eyes full of admiration: "Giving money directly will inevitably make people feel like charity. What Dean Zhang wants is for everyone to live a decent life - this is true compassion."
The glass door opened slightly, and Zhang Pingmin walked out of the flower shop carrying a basket of flowers. The delicate blue rose glowed coldly in the winter, like a solidified dark blue flame. Walking through the corridor covered with thick carpet and pushing open the wooden door, the sunlight makes the health care ward look like a palace in the clouds. The leather sofas and sandalwood coffee tables are arranged in an orderly manner, completely unlike the paleness of an ordinary ward.
Zhang Pingmin's footsteps suddenly slowed down in front of the bed, and a smile as warm as the spring sun instantly broke out on his face. λ carefully placed the flower basket on the bedside table, and the movement of her fingertips stroking the ribbon on the edge of the basket seemed to be touching a distant memory.
When she held Qin Zhujun's hand, which was as bony as a dead branch, her fingertips trembled slightly: "Zhujun, I'm here to see you."
Qin Zhujun's eyelashes trembled slightly when she was lying on the hospital bed, and her dark gray pupils were like a deep pool with a stone thrown into it, causing tiny ripples. Her cracked lips moved, and her voice was as light as the gossamer of the wind: "You... are here?"
"Well, I'm here." Zhang Pingmin's Adam's apple rolled, and he swallowed the sourness back to his heart. His fingertips gently stroked the protruding blue veins on her back, "How do you feel recently?"
Qin Zhujun pulled the corners of her mouth, trying to smile, but the arc was more heartbreaking than crying: "Don't worry... I'm fine."
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