In the Advanced Stage of Gastric Cancer, the Husband of an Academician Marries His Mistress and Has a Baby
About This Novel
During the tenth round of transplant chemotherapy, my husband, who is a cultural relics appraiser, finally opened the door to the ward. This was the first time in half a year that he accompanied me for treatment. As soon as he put on the escort uniform, a prompt with the code name "Bronze Dragon Pattern Bottle" flashed crazily on the screen of his mobile phone. He took one look and immediately became panicked. He didn't even have time to take off his white coat before rushing out. Watching his hurried away figure, I clutched the clothes on my body tightly. I pulled out the needle and stopped the taxi, wrapped in a hospital gown. Oh, cultural relic transfer package? I want to see what kind of "national treasure" he is that can allow him to abandon his wife's crucial chemotherapy.
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