Four weeks ago, after making a sound, I realized how painful my throat was. "Where is this?"

"At the hospital..." Ning Feng gently patted his back and whispered softly: "You can go home soon."

He Qing's eyes were startled, as if he was thinking about why he was in the hospital. After thinking for a long time, he recovered, "Ahe, let him put my hands away."

He wanted to move his fingers, but found that he couldn’t control it. He looked down stunned, but he saw that his hands were covered with gauze, and his tears dripped. The young man murmured: "So, my hands are abandoned. ..."

Ning Feng's eyes were gloomy and terrifying for a moment. He slapped the young man and said softly: "No, A Qing's hand has not been discarded. I will find the best doctor to cure you."

"It's useless, it's useless." He Qing didn't want to cry like a little girl, but he felt wronged. "I'm a doctor, as long as my hand has been injured, I can no longer get a scalpel."

"I can't be a doctor..."

The youth was stunned. He said, "My life is ruined."