Chapter 502: Chapter 502: To wake or not to wake
Hannah gave a perfunctory nod to the doctor’s words. Her slender eyebrows knitted slightly as she glanced at the mud on the hem of her gown before looking at the man lying on the hospital bed.
"Look at you. You’re a perfectly good villain yet you’ve landed yourself in such a wretched mess. You nearly harmed both yourself and me. If I hadn’t arrived on time, you would have had to watch me frolicking with other men from underneath the ground."
As she spoke, Hannah sighed. A profound sorrow lurked in her eyes.
She didn’t notice the man on the bed move his finger.
The doctor, seemingly startled by Hannah’s words, asked, "Miss, may I ask what your relationship is with the patient?"
"Me?" Hannah pointed to herself, shaking her head, "I am not a human."
Doctor: "...Miss, Are you running a fever?"
Indeed, in a strict sense, Hannah wasn’t entirely "human" at that moment.
A day and a night.
That was the time he bargained for her to deviate from her original world’s plot.
Now, Hannah truly looked like her original self.
Compared to her original host’s innocent beauty, she now appeared even more extraordinary and stunning.
A beauty indeed not of this world.
The doctor and nurse left, leaving only the two of them in the room.
One lay unconscious, yet to awake; the other softly sighed in sorrow. To an uninformed observer, they might have seemed like lovers freshly scarred by death’s separation.
Holding a compact mirror she always carried, Hannah examined her familiar face before glancing at the man slumbering on the bed. With another sigh, she said, "I’ll count to three, wake up, or I leave. I’ll take your wallet, support other men, change one every day, partying on your grave, will you wake up--Ah, forget it, I’ll find someone else."
She talked to herself.
On the bed.
The voice sounded strange, yet unnervingly familiar.
Feeling groggy and heavy-lidded, Arnold Simmons tried to rouse himself but to no avail. The soft voice gradually drifted away, like a wisp of cloud.
Instinctively, he reached out, only to grasp a piece of soft gauze.
Hannah curiously turned to look at the man on the bed, asking, "You can move now? But why aren’t your eyes open yet? Are you sleepwalking?"
Her casual tone almost made the man on the hospital bed choke in anger.
Yet, Hannah walked over, leaning in to examine his handsome, pale face. Her eyes curved like a crescent moon and her voice was tenderly soft, tinged with a touch of sorrow, "If you don’t wake up, I really am going to find someone else."
The familiar scent at the tip of his nose gradually dissipated. His fingertips felt a soft object slipping away.
In a reflex, Arnold tightened his grasp, only to find he had grabbed nothing.
Overwhelmed with a sense of loss and panic, Arnold strained to open his eyes, but his vision was still blurry.
He could only vaguely see a slender figure standing at the doorway, talking to someone else. The voice seemed to fade in and out. The face was blurred too, hard to make out.
Who is it?
In the end, Hannah looked toward the hospital room, a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Her voice was as melodious as it was ethereal, "In that case, I’ll go first."
The nurse quickly followed her, "Could you leave a contact number? Perhaps the patient will want to thank you once he regains consciousness?"
Hannah shook her head, "No need."
The nurse nodded in a dazed manner, unable to comprehend this beautiful lady’s thoughts.
*
A day and a night. The time he mentioned did not exceed or fall short by a minute.
Hannah spent quite some time on her journey, rushing back just at the last second.
