Xiaoyu pressed the U disk into the notebook interface hard, and the light on the screen reflected the red bloodshot eyes under his eyes - this was the third time this week that Zhao Wei's "results" were finished. The printer was still churning out pages, and each page was signed only with "Zhao Wei", without any mention that he had stayed up all night to revise.
The phone vibrated on the corner of the table. It was Zhao Wei's WeChat message: "I've read the plan. If there's no problem, just send it to me. By the way, I'll ask your assistant to confirm the expert number for your mother's review next week - provided there are no 'accidents', such as someone suddenly wanting to 'clarify' the credit."
Xiaoyu pinched his fingertips into his palm, and the medical records were exposed from the crack of the drawer. The doctor's note "it is recommended to undergo bypass surgery as soon as possible" stung his eyes. He clicked on the file transfer box, the cursor hovered over the "Send" button for a long time, and finally pressed it. The only sound left in the office was the hum of the printer, which was very similar to his heartbeat every time he wanted to resist, but was pulled back by his mother's illness.
