The woman pushed the door open.
Meng Yao looked up; inside was a small clinic, clearly private, with incomplete equipment, let alone clean and hygienic.
The person inside came out, and after greeting the woman, she pulled Meng Yao over, "This is that young man's wife, here to see how he is doing."
"Are you his wife?" Old Zhao squinted his eyes, sighed, and shook his head, "His brain stem is damaged, pressing on the cranial nerves. Although the surgery was successful, I can't guarantee he will wake up, and even if he does..."
He didn't finish the second half of the sentence, but Meng Yao had guessed it roughly. She choked, tears inexplicably flooding her eyes, "Will his intelligence and memory be affected?"
"That's a possibility," Old Zhao walked to the side and washed his hands, "You should go in and see him. I'm exhausted. You're called Xiao Ran, right? This young man was calling your name even on the brink of death, quite infatuated."
"..."
