TW: There’s mention of blood and death.
In mid-June, the summer breeze was warm. Zhao Zhilan pushed open the door of the hospital, and opened the insulation box containing the food. Her heart was a little bit sour. "Pei Chuan, you haven't eaten yet, right? Mom made some soup, have a taste."
Pei Chuan walked over, his finger was just reattached, and now he could only eat with his left hand.