A week trickled by and Zhao Lifei was still unconscious.
'Why hasn't she woken up?!'
Yang Feng was growing impatient at the lack of progress. He anxiously paced back and forth in her hospital room. He had walked this same path repeatedly day and night during the past seven days.
He gritted his teeth and his jaw tightened. He hated this place. He hated the familiar smell of the hospital disinfectant. This place reminded him of the last time she was hospitalized.
Two times. He had arrived too late two times. And both times, someone had been able to harm her.
He had run his hand enough through his hair out of frustration that it had remained perpetually disheveled. He had always had a hard time falling asleep, and with Lifei's current condition, he had spent almost every minute of the past week awake.
