The woman sitting on the hospital bed appeared so thin and frail, almost fragile.
Her entire body had become emaciated, her sunken cheeks like ravines harshly carved by time, sparse hair limp on her shoulders, lifeless.
Most shocking was her bloodless face, pale almost to transparency, vaguely tinged with grayish-blue, laden with the exhaustion and fatigue of long illness.
If not for the faint resemblance of her facial features to those in his memory, Li Jing would have thought he had entered the wrong hospital room.
At this moment, Zhang Xinxin was trying to get up by holding onto the bed's railing. As the door opened, she froze instantly.
Seeing Li Jing at the doorway, her dull eyes first flashed with surprise, then flickered with a hint of panic, instinctively wanting to turn her back to him, as if trying to hide her pitiful appearance.
