Wang Yuan's last memory was a dazzling car light.
The shadowless lights in the operating room swayed in front of my eyes, overlapping with the halo of the ambulance's overhead lights. He remembered that he had just completed a twelve-hour heart transplant operation, and his white coat was still stained with the patient's blood. Exhausted, he stood at the door of the hospital waiting for a taxi, the cold night rain hitting his face.
"Doctor Wang, you look very bad. Do you want to rest in the duty room for a night?" Nurse Xiao Zhang handed over a cup of hot coffee.
He shook his head, and when he took the coffee, his fingertips touched. Xiao Zhang's hand was warm and dry. The touch was so real that it became his last perception in that world.
"Be careful—!"
Wang Yuan traveled to the prosperous Tang Dynasty and had a love-hate relationship with Gao Yang.
