Van Gogh turned and looked down at the long corridor.

Step by step, the sound of steady footsteps is very loud in the quiet corridor.

In front of Van Gogh's eyes, it seems that Shen Jingchuan's face, half lying in the hospital bed, five fingers clenched into fists, the green veins on the back of his hand bulging, is forcibly suppressing his mood.

"Sir, he'll be fine."

"It will be all right."

"OK."

The voice kept echoing.

Van Gogh did not stay for a moment, and soon his back disappeared into the corridor.

Somehow, looking at Van Gogh's back, she had a strange feeling that something was missing.

Step out...