trap rose

She handed the bouquet to Liu Jinbo and blessed: "I hope your friend will recover soon."

Liu Jinbo took the bouquet and was filled with gratitude. He took a deep look at the beautiful flowers and then walked out of the flower shop.

Liu Jinbo held the bouquet of carnations in his hand, worried about Wen Mian who was hospitalized, hoping that the bouquet of flowers could bring him some comfort and strength.

Walking into the lobby of that hospital, a faint smell of disinfectant hit my nose. This is a unique smell of the hospital.

At this time, the hall was bustling with people, family members were waiting anxiously, and medical staff were busy shuttling in and out.

Liu Jinbo holds a bouquet of carefully selected carnations in his hand. The color of the flowers is soft pink, and the petals are soft and shiny.

With firm eyes and hurried steps, he walked through the crowd and headed straight to the front desk.

The color of the flowers was a warm pink, which seemed to echo his mood at the moment.

He looked around, high ceilings, white walls, every corner was full of seriousness and silence.

There is a faint smell of disinfectant in the air, and occasionally you can hear distant whispers and the faint ticking of instruments.

He walked to the front desk and asked gently: "Hello, which ward number does Wen Mian live in?" His voice was gentle and trembling.

The nurse at the front desk raised her head, looked at him, and replied: "She is in the VIP intensive care unit, just keep walking over there." There was a hint of sympathy in her eyes.

Liu Jinbo thanked him and walked in the direction indicated. His steps were a little heavy, and every step seemed like he was going through a difficult journey.

The carnation trembled slightly in his hand, and the pink petals seemed to be filled with vitality, which was in sharp contrast to his mood at the moment.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his inner turmoil.

The VIP Intensive Care Unit is located deep in the hospital, where the atmosphere is completely different from that in the lobby.

It's quiet and solemn, and everyone who comes in and out has a solemn look on their face.

The moment he opened the door, an invisible pressure hit him.

Wen Mian was on the hospital bed, her face pale and her eyes closed, looking so fragile and helpless.

She was still unconscious at this time.

The warm cotton on the hospital bed is like a white flower that is about to wither, lying quietly on the white sheets.

His face was so pale that it was almost transparent, like snowflakes in winter that would melt at the slightest touch.

Those tightly closed eyes were like two closed doors, isolating her from the outside world, making it impossible for people to peek into her inner world.

The surrounding environment seemed to be infected with this helplessness and vulnerability. The air in the ward seemed to have solidified, and it was so quiet that only the ticking of drips and occasional whispered conversations could be heard.

The sunlight outside the window shone on her through the half-opened curtains, but it seemed so weak, as if all efforts could not dispel the paleness on her face.

The veins on the back of her hands were prominent and she looked extremely thin, like a thin thread that could be broken at any time.

Every breath is so light that it is almost imperceptible, as if telling people the fragility and helplessness of life.

The fragility and helplessness is like a piece of tissue paper, which will break as soon as it is torn.

The doctor in front of the hospital bed shook his head gently, with deep concern in his eyes.

He gently pressed the call bell on the bedside, then turned around and whispered a few instructions to the nurse next to him.

The nurse nodded and quickly left the ward.

After a while, a rush of footsteps broke the tranquility of the ward.