He widened his eyes, looking at everything in front of him in disbelief, as if countless ants were gnawing at his heart.
How could this happen? Was he really going to lose his job?
The sound of the door closing woke Mr. Shuigui up. It turned out that everything that had just happened was just his fantasy.
The person who walked out of the operating room was Nan Sheng, holding a large curved tray in his hand, which contained the alcoholic liver that had just been removed from Mr. Jiugui.
Mr. Shuigui took it carefully, put it into the jar with neat movements, then slowly injected the source of life into it with his fingers, and finally sealed it tightly.
Each of his movements was skillful and decisive, as if he was performing an extremely sacred ritual.
The transplantation work in the operating room was completed, and Lin Lin handed the remaining suturing work to Xiaoyu.
Xiaoyu and Lin Lin exchanged positions, took a deep breath to adjust their condition, and then began to suture the wound with full concentration.
The needle and thread in her hand flexibly moved across Mr. Jiugui's abdomen, dancing gracefully like a dancer.
Every stitch and every thread carries her blessings and expectations for Mr. Jiugui. She hopes that he can recover as soon as possible and continue to enjoy a good life.
Finally, the operation was over.
Lin Lin leaned back in his chair wearily, his forehead covered in sweat and his face showing fatigue.
But her eyes sparkled with joy, like stars in the night sky.
The operating room was silent, with only the faint sounds of instruments.
Lin Lin sat there quietly, watching Mr. Jiugui lying quietly on the hospital bed. His face gradually returned to its rosy color and his breathing became steady.
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