The rainy night in Jiangnan City is like torn silk, and the neon lights are broken into thousands of stars in the stagnant water. I stood in front of the revolving door of the Crown Hotel holding the test sheet I had just taken. The corners of the paper were stained with dark brown stains from the rain.
The four words "late stage pancreatic cancer" burned on the retina.
The phone suddenly vibrated, and a pop-up window popped up in Lin Xiaorou's live broadcast room. In the camera, she was wearing the champagne-colored dress I gave her, but the background was the crystal chandelier in the hotel suite. The barrage scrolled like crazy: Is Roubao going on a date at the Crown Hotel today?
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
