Fu Tingzhou woke up around eight o'clock in the morning the next day.
The man's arm was broken, encased in a plaster cast, and his head had suffered trauma, wrapped in white gauze. At this moment, Fu Tingzhou felt somewhat dizzy. He raised his hand, wanting to remove the oxygen mask on his face, but suddenly, he felt his arm was heavy, as if something was pressing on it.
Fu Tingzhou slowly turned his face, and then he saw the woman sleeping with her head on his arm.
Tang Xi had stayed here all night.
She was extremely tired and had fallen asleep at the edge of the hospital bed.
At this moment, the morning light was bright, casting its rays on Tang Xi's back.
Fu Tingzhou's gaze softened.
