"—That wheelchair seems to be the Lord of Akto!"

"—How could he come to this small town?"

"It's a good thing! A great thing! City Lord! How is the frontline war situation? Can our soldiers come back..."

"Is the city lord here to celebrate the New Year with us?"

People's voices were mixed, and Su Mingan couldn't hear them clearly, and even his vision had shrunk to a small dot. He drove a wheelchair and rushed to a place with medical equipment.

He broke into the hospital, passed by the exclaiming doctor and nurse, and closed the door.

"Lying for a while." He placed Yueyue, who was flowing with tissue fluid, flat on the bed, and found life-suspended medicines such as Johnson & Johnson. Her body had begun to lose its heat, and her eyes gradually narrowed, like a sinking boat.

"It's so sleepy..." she said.

"Hold on for a while and listen to my voice."

Su Ming'an's voice was low, the effect of the anesthetic had faded, and the pain of being pinched in his throat gradually occupied his brain.

The blood that penetrated her body was like a burning flame, and it was like an oil painting in the white bed, just like the novel by Pascal Giniare that he had recommended to her.

And he is reciting the novel for her:

"【But why do you still have to draw? Since everything will be exhausted?"

He took out a tube of injection, and his throat burned in flames as he spoke:

“[Everyone brings his own little torch, gathered among the torches that illuminate the world.]

[Sometimes, a thin mist or a high mountain is enough. Sometimes, a tree that lowers its head and shakes under the brutal wind is enough. Sometimes, even the night is enough. There is no need to sleep to show the things that do not exist or are lost in the night to the soul...]”

Even if it is just a mist, a tree, a trace of night.

He liked this novel because of this passage.

Clenching the injection, Su Mingan turned around, pushing the liquid in his hand slightly, intending to inject it into her, but the story in his mouth continued for a moment:

“I think there is another interesting part, and the emotional collision between them impressed me.

He said, [I am in pain, madam, I am suffering from being unable to meet you…]”

His voice stopped.

She closed her eyes and lay flat on the white bed. The white sheets on both sides were lifted like angels' wings, spreading around her, without any tremor of life in her chest.

“…Yueyue?”

Su Mingan stood there.

He stabbed the injection into her arm, and his other hand forward, reaching her breath...

"She replied, [Sir, nothing can touch me except the gentle wind...]"

"Bang--"

The injection fell to the ground.

He stopped his speech, his stiff gaze moved slightly, and a dark whine sounded from his throat, swallowing the blood that suddenly came up from his chest.

He didn't feel any wind between his fingers.

The doctors and nurses who heard the noise rushed in "swish" and saw Su Mingan standing by the bed.

"City Lord..."

His expression was frozen at a certain moment, his lips were blue and purple, and his eyes were stiff and hung in the air.

He slowly turned around and looked at the doctors and nurses, and the corners of his mouth, which were as stiff as a straight line, curled up slightly.

It was like invisible silk threads hanging his lips and pulling the corners of his mouth. These silk threads forced him to curl the corners of his eyes like a clown, his eyes lost their focus, and he showed a tragic smile.

He realized a fact.

An extremely tragic fact.

The air seemed to become a sharp knife, stirring him up to blood and tremble all over. Despair sprayed out from the grey matter folds of the cerebral cortex like magma, filling his skull cavity. His words were like tooth clamps moving his teeth, and a bitterness and blood scent in his mouth were intertwined.

"It's too late." He smiled, his arms hanging down weakly, as if mocking himself: "It's really too late..."

The laughter was fierce and hasty, and he smiled and gasped, as if he was about to drown and die.

She was dead in the bed.

He smiled, but felt the pain of suffocation, his throat was rushing, and every laugh he heard was self-punishment.

The doctors and nurses hesitated for a moment, but didn't laugh.

There was only a young man with low emotional intelligence and laughed.
Chapter completed!