"How much longer... does he have?" Yan Weiwei asked, her voice trembling.
Yan Feng's attending doctor was a quite elderly man with a white beard, wearing bifocal glasses, looking experienced.
He adjusted his glasses with a heavy expression.
"It's hard to say, perhaps a few months, perhaps a few years. The main issue is that the blood vessels surrounding the brain tumor are rich, and once they rupture, it could be a matter of days.
Coupled with the patient's advanced age, the risk of surgery is extremely high...
So... I ask the family to be mentally prepared."
Yan Weiwei didn't know how she walked out of the consulting room, only feeling dazed, her steps somewhat shaky.
When everyone arrived at the bedside, they saw Yan Feng quietly lying on the bed, wearing a respirator and his eyes tightly shut.
Yan Weiwei looked at that face, which had already become somewhat aged and full of wrinkles, and fragments of memories flashed through her mind repeatedly.
