"Hey, Chief, Uncle Zhao." The young patrol officer brushed the snow off his body, then hesitated, as if something was on his mind, and after greeting, his words halted.
Zhang Feng saw this, raised his leg slightly, and side-kicked his thigh, "You're a grown man, if something's up, just say it. We can find a way to solve it, stop dawdling."
The young patrol officer, after being kicked, sighed suddenly with some dejection and said, "Chief, you don't live in our company housing, so you don't know.
The old chief had trouble breathing two days ago and was taken to the hospital at night, and I went there last night. The doctor said his blood vessels are blocked and he needs a bypass, but... but he's over seventy, can he handle the surgery?
And this morning, the old chief didn't want to spend more money on the surgery, so he had his son take him back home."
"At home?" Zhang Feng stood up directly.
