The smell of the disinfectant was a bit harsh to the nose, mixed with a rusty smell, and penetrated straight into Ye Xun's brain.
He leaned on the hard examination bed and looked at the old yellow water stain on the ceiling, which looked very much like the unlucky, disobedient guy in his former territory. Lao Chen, the doctor who wore reading glasses and whose fingers were always a little shaky, held a stack of colorful films and frowned so hard that he could kill a fly.
"Mr. Ye... Ye," Old Chen's voice seemed to be squeezed out of his throat, and was very dry, "This... The degree of shadow pattern disorder... Is still getting worse. Last time I came here, the active area was still... The size of a fingernail, and now... It's only a little bit left." He gestured with two fingers, the distance between them was pitifully small.
