The weak sunlight filtered into the room through the cracks in the window, and the young woman felt her eyes stinging and hurriedly reached out to block them.
"Doctor, can she be discharged from the hospital like this?" The middle-aged woman on the side asked with worry on her face when she saw the young woman's discomfort.
"It's okay. She just hasn't been in contact with the outside world for too long. She's a little uncomfortable. She'll get better with some guidance." The man in white walked over and closed the curtains to block the light.
When I woke up on the first day, I stayed in this dark ward. No one told me the reason, and I didn't know it myself.
"Who am I?" This question has been bothering me since I woke up. Whenever I racked my brain to think about it, the doctor would always tell me with "loving" eyes, "The past is like smoke, and it is meaningless even to think about it. It is better to live a good life from now on."
He seems to have magic. Looking into his eyes and listening to his voice, you will feel your head is empty. Then you close your eyes and have a good sleep. Later, "Who am I?" Seems to not be that important anymore.