She had already made it her assignment to write down Jun Moyan’s name and to say "Jun Moyan, I like you, I love you" every day.
Now, without writing his name for a day, she felt somewhat uncomfortable, always feeling as if something was missing.
Jun Moyan had cleared out a secure drawer, usually for important documents, specifically for what she wrote.
So, Wen Xiao’ai wrote even more diligently because she wanted to fill that drawer quickly.
After taking the medicine provided by the Drunkard, Old Bai’s condition had significantly improved.
The Drunkard asked them to wait in the outer hall, saying that the acupuncture process could not be disturbed or diverted.
Although they were concerned, Bai Tang and Uncle Ming could only wait outside with everyone else.
The Drunkard locked the room door, placing the medical kit next to the bed.
Looking at Old Bai, who was still unconscious on the bed, he did not rush to treat him.
Instead, he scanned the room and then took out a prepared pinhole camera, installing it in a concealed yet all-encompassing corner of the room.
After making sure the camera was well-hidden and wouldn’t be noticed, the Drunkard approached the bedside, checked Old Bai’s condition, fed him a few pills, and then took out the acupuncture needle bag and removed his clothes.
The Drunkard picked up a silver needle and looked at the glowing needle tip but hesitated.
He was a doctor who healed and saved people, yet now he was gambling with someone else’s life, which truly violated his medical ethics and conscience.
He was going to defy every wish and teaching of his master.
"Master, I’m sorry, I also have no choice. If I can’t even save myself, what do I use to save others?"
The Drunkard looked at Old Bai, who had fallen into a coma, feeling guilty: "I’m sorry."
After saying that, he inserted the needle into his skin...
The atmosphere in the outer hall was hardly more relaxed than in the room.
Qing Yi, Uncle Ming, and Bai Tang all had their worries.
Only Wen Xiao’ai seemed completely unaffected by the mood.
Finding a cushion, she sat down next to Jun Moyan’s feet and took a pen and paper from her new backpack, placing them on the table and began to write.
Every now and then, she turned her head and spoke a few words to Jun Moyan.
Bai Tang caught a glimpse of Wen Xiao’ai writing Jun Moyan’s name over and over. Watching the interaction between the two, he felt more and more displeased and uncomfortable.
Inside the room, an hour had passed, and Old Bai’s body was covered in silver needles, while the Drunkard was utterly exhausted.
With bated breath, he placed the last needle and finally exhaled deeply.
He stood up and sat down on the floor, completely drained.
His clothes were soaked with sweat, and his slightly pale face was covered in sweat.
The Drunkard leaned against the bed, panting and weary.
He glanced at his trembling hands, and his eyes slowly became misty.
The smile was indescribably heartrending, helpless, and bitter.
This medical skill had ultimately failed him.
Due to long-term alcohol abuse, his hands couldn’t even hold a needle steadily anymore.
O Mu Han, how can you justify this to your master, how can you justify this to yourself.
Sitting on the floor, the Drunkard alternated between crying and laughing, unable to describe his own emotions. Read full story at NoveIꜰire.net
The medical skills he once took pride in, the medical skills he had diligently studied and practiced without sleep, were now completely ruined by his own hands, a pain more severe than death itself.
When the Drunkard finally finished removing the needles, three hours had passed.
Just as Bai Tang completely lost his patience, the room door opened.
"How is my grandfather?" Bai Tang hurriedly stepped forward to ask.
The Drunkard did not answer, returned to the room after opening the door, and then collapsed exhaustedly on the couch.