Before being carried out by Mu Jinqian, Qingqing suddenly remembered something, turned her head and pointed to the insulated lunch box on the table, saying, "Uncle, this soup was made by grandma herself. She said it's very good for auntie's health. You must remember to drink it while it's hot."
The clear, crisp voice resonated clearly in the quiet ward.
Nan Wan looked up at the man standing by the bedside. From this angle, the cold, hard line of his profile seemed to have gained a bit of gentleness.
Mu Jin Huan slightly lowered his head, his gaze calmly falling on the piece of kraft paper filled with several names, leaving others unable to fathom whether there was a shred of emotion in the depths of his mysterious, deep-set eyes.
After the elevator doors closed, Mu Qingqing, hugging her father's neck, squinted her eyes and uncertainly asked, "Daddy, did I say it like that?"
