Xiong Weiqun fell asleep. Zhong Ping had not had enough sleep recently and wanted to sleep too. His intuition told him that if he didn't sleep now, he would have no chance to sleep when they arrived in City B early in the morning.
Oh... it's early in the morning. That's the time when Xiong Weiqun is supposed to change the dressing, but he doesn't know how to change the dressing. He will just pile on the bus and rush to the hospital to negotiate with the doctor... It's not necessarily true. There is not enough money for the operation, so Xiong Weiqun should probably
Go collect money first.
Where and how he would collect money... Zhong Ping really couldn't think of it. As soon as he fell asleep, he leaned his head on the back of the chair and felt the slight stiffness in his neck.
The bus was swaying to encourage sleep, and Zhong Ping fell deeply into dreamland before he could even finish thinking about the whole question.
When I woke up, there was a half-dead flight attendant on the bus. He woke up all the sleeping passengers and told them that they would arrive at the terminal in ten minutes.
I don't know if it was an illusion, but when Zhong Ping woke up, he saw that Xiong Weiqun's face was paler than before he fell asleep. He glanced at Xiong Weiqun's injured area uneasily, wondering if a lot of pus had formed again, or simply bleeding again.
Already?
The thought of the wound made Zhong Ping's hair stand on end again. He shook his head to get the thought out of his mind and looked out the window. The sun doesn't get up that early in the winter, and there will be fog when it seems to be bright or not - the air
Most bad small cities are in this situation.
After the bus arrived at the station, the two got off the bus. Xiong Weiqun walked out of the station without saying a word. Zhong Ping, with his shoulder bag still hanging around his neck, ran after him in two steps: "You have to change your dressing!"
Xiong Weiqun didn't even stop: "You want to change the dressing on the street?"
"Uh..." Zhong Ping couldn't squeeze out even half a sentence.
Half an hour later, the two were at Xiong Weiqun's home.
Xiong Weiqun was sitting on the sofa, because the beds in both bedrooms were scratched and messed up by the little sour who couldn't get out of the house in time last time. He also used the rice husks in the pillows as cat litter, and there was a deep layer of cat feces floating in the room.
Taste.
In addition to the bedroom, the kitchen was also affected by the cat. The refrigerator was opened by the evil cat, and the stinky stuff inside was spilled all over the floor. The items in the freezer were also turned upside down, including frozen meat and other items.
Arranged by small acids and defrosted on the balcony.
Zhong Ping felt another deep sense of frustration, deeper than the smell of cat feces. If he had packed everything carefully last time, this kind of thing probably wouldn't have happened...
Xiong Weiqun laughed when he saw this. Zhong Ping scratched his face and didn't know what he was laughing about. He took off Xiong Weiqun's clothes angrily and asked him to lie flat on the sofa.
When removing the bandage, Zhong Ping imagined a lot of wounds. As the saying goes, it is better to imagine than to see. When he really sees the wound, no matter how much mental preparation he does, it will be useless. He still wants to run away and continue to let Xiao Shou die.
The cat is called the king. Maybe Xiao Su can be kind enough to give Xiong Weiqun some medicine or something for him.
There was absolutely nothing he could do about the wound, and his mind began to keep wanting Xiong Weiqun to go to the hospital for treatment, otherwise even the King of Heaven would not be able to stop the wound from festering.
At this juncture, it was hard for him to ask Xiong Weiqun to apply the pus and ointment himself, after all, he was the one who kept shouting to treat the wound.
Zhong Ping had no choice but to roll a cotton swab, dip it in iodine, and wipe the wound. Xiong Weiqun didn't say a word or even take a breath. He couldn't help but turn his head to look at Xiong Weiqun's face, trying to find out whether he didn't feel any pain at all or something was wrong.
Xiong Weiqun's face was still frighteningly pale, and Zhong Ping couldn't help but ask: "Does it hurt?"
"Stop talking nonsense and hurry up." Xiong Weiqun urged him impatiently.
Zhong Ping continued to wash the wound silently with iodophor, but it seemed that there was more and more pus inside that could never be washed away, making him as anxious as if he had had dry stool for thirty-three days.
Later, he couldn't help but want to divert his attention and said: "Are you hungry?"
Xiong Weiqun sighed and replied: "Why don't you try not eating for two days?"
"Oh... Then, I'll go buy something to eat in a minute." As if he was back to the time when we first met, Zhong Ping was very grateful that Xiong Weiqun actually answered his question.
"Before eight o'clock."
"ah?"
"I have to go to the hospital at eight o'clock."
"Oh...ah, okay...then I'll hurry up..."
When Zhong Ping saw that one layer of pus had been cleared away, and the next layer emerged again, he no longer thought about cleaning it, but put a layer of medicine on the wound and wrapped it with gauze.
His waist.
After cleaning up the wound, Zhong Ping put on his clothes as promised and ran out of the door. Before he could reach downstairs, he held on to the wall of the stairwell and retched several times. Fortunately, nothing happened in the past two days.
Oil and water, otherwise it will really spit out.
After leaving the building, he walked out of the nearby buildings and came to the main road. He wanted to find something like a breakfast shop for office workers nearby. After searching for two whole streets, he still couldn't find any sign of such a shop. Finally, he found
Bought breakfast at a dumpling restaurant.
When he returned, Xiong Weiqun had already changed into his own clothes and sat quietly on the sofa. He went up, took the medical supplies on the small table next to the sofa to the balcony, put breakfast on it, and acted responsibly.
Di inserted the straw into the porridge for Xiong Weiqun.
As if he was at home—he was indeed at home—Xiong Weiqun took a few sips of the porridge, took a bite of the buns, and commented: "Is this from the dumpling restaurant?"
Zhong Ping didn't know what expression to use when he was recognized as having breakfast at the dumpling restaurant. He always felt that Xiong Weiqun was trying to create a topic. Xiong Weiqun had worked hard, so he couldn't lag behind, so he squeezed out this speechless topic.
He said something: "It's too far, two streets away from your home..."
"There's one downstairs. The small supermarket also sells breakfast." Xiong Weiqun described expressionlessly.
Zhong Ping felt that he should be expressionless about this speechless topic, but the topic was getting more and more difficult, so he made a stricken expression: "I'll eat you if I buy it!"
Xiong Weiqun made a funny expression. Zhong Ping, who had been a little nervous in the past two days, suddenly relaxed at this moment.
After breakfast, Xiong Weiqun wanted to put the belt around his waist again, but was stopped by Zhong Ping like a housekeeper. With a serious look on his face, he pulled out the revolver from his holster and pointed it at Zhong Ping. Zhong Ping thought he was going to be a target again.
, flinched weakly, and found that what was handed to him was the handle part.
Before Zhong Ping could realize what he was going to do, Xiong Weiqun spoke: "Let me ask you a question, how long do you plan to stay with me?"
Zhong Ping shook his head and replied: "Wait until your sister is cured?"
"Then hold it, don't lose it," Xiong Weiqun shook the gun in his hand, "You should be able to shoot."
Zhong Ping shook his head vigorously: "Don't, don't, I'm holding it... What if someone finds out? No, no, probably not..."