Could it be his painting?
Thankfully, Song Yanchu didn't seem like the type to be harsh, aloof, and nitpicky; otherwise, her daughter's off-the-cuff, nonsensical interpretation of 'a black-bone chicken taking to the sea' would have been asking for a scolding.
After adding each other on WeChat, Tang Xi left the emergency room.
In the air, amidst the faint scent of disinfectant, lingered a subtle fragrance. Song Yanchu watched Tang Xi's departing figure until she was out of sight before he withdrew his gaze. He gripped his phone tighter and opened the woman's WeChat Moments.
They displayed only the last three days.
The elderly lady coughed, and Song Yanchu supported her, "Grandma, how are you feeling now? I'll take you back to the old house first."
"Yanchu, do you know that female doctor we just met?"
"She came with her child yesterday to see the youth art exhibition my school hosted."
"She really has a child... Well, that's not a problem," the elderly lady muttered to herself.
