Every floor of the oncology building at Dihong Hospital had a Children's Home, a playground built especially for pediatric patients.
There were many kids inside, and one big kid.
The little kids asked the big kid, "Brother, do you think I can make the shot?"
The big kid answered dismissively, "You can make it."
"No, that's not right. You're supposed to say I can't make it, and then I'll make the shot to show you." The little kid asked again, "Brother, do you think I can make the shot?"
"You can make it."
The little kid was about to cry, "Mommy, I don't want to play with brother anymore."
Off they'd go crying to their parents, as if you're the only one with parents, huh.
"Yan Cong."
The big kid, Yan Cong, immediately turned his head, the corners of his mouth rising into a smile.
His parent had come, too.
Wen Changling could spot him at a glance, wearing a fluorescent green hoodie over his hospital gown. The youth was slim but looked good in anything.
"Is it fun inside?"