Central Hospital.
There were precision instruments placed everywhere in the ward, and the surrounding area was pale. The instruments on the bedside made a beeping sound.
Lying peacefully on the snow-white hospital bed was a man with a pale face, wearing an oxygen mask and breathing with difficulty. His long hair like splashes of ink was scattered softly on the pillow, without a trace of greasiness from being on the bed for a long time. His pale face no longer had the vitality of the past, but it did not lose its charm.
The young man with a healthy wheat complexion leaned quietly against his chest and listened to his weak and rhythmic heartbeat. He seemed to be talking to himself or talking to others, Qingcheng, do you know, tonight is Christmas Eve. I prayed devoutly in the church. May the Lord bless us to live strong, even if you have become a vegetative state. Qingcheng, I pray to the Lord and ask Him to allow me to live and die together with you. ． ． ． ．
Outside the window, the Christmas Eve bells rang, snowflakes were flying, hymns from the church choir were singing, and they were flying in the wind.
Qingcheng, please allow me to live and die together with you. ． ． ． ． ．