"Beep... beep..."
The sound kept entering Qing Yi's ears, and this anxious and long wait was nothing short of torture for Qing Yi, who was feeling restless in that moment.
Several times, he nearly smashed the phone, but he held back.
He waited patiently. When the first call went unanswered and disconnected automatically, he dialed again.
The ringtone kept echoing in his ear, finally pulling the drunkard back to reality from his nightmare.
He had undergone dialysis a few hours ago, and it had tortured him to the point of agony. His head was muddled, his consciousness foggy.
Sweat continued to trickle down his body, his legs occasionally twitched, and even breathing required effort.
The drunkard laboriously turned his head, looking at the phone with a lit screen incessantly ringing by the pillow.
He reached out with a hand so thin it was frightening and picked up the phone.
Seeing the name Qing Yi made his eyes instantly wet.
