Late at night, Jiangcheng First People's Hospital.
The regular beeping sound of the ECG monitor was infinitely amplified in the silent corridor, like a heavy hammer hitting Shu Yunyang's heart.
Her fingertips were cold, and she clutched the thin critical illness notice tightly, the edges of the paper getting wrinkled.
"Brain stem glioma, the success rate of surgery is not high, and the cost is at least 800,000 yuan." The doctor's cold and formulaic words were still echoing in her ears.
Eight hundred thousand.
Shu Yunyang sat down slowly against the cold wall and took out her mobile phone. The dim light of the screen reflected her bloodless little face.
Bank account balance, 2,785 yuan and 30 cents.
Ironic as a joke.
At this moment, the phone buzzed, and a voice message popped up. It was from a debt collector.
She didn't even need to click on it. The vulgar voice seemed to have penetrated the screen and roared in her eardrums: "Shu Yunyang! If you don't pay back the money tomorrow, I will take people to your house and smash your broken door down!"
