Chapter 7: Bed 17
Chapter 7: Bed 17
Anran, feeling utterly defeated, grips the handle of the emergency door tightly. Bent over, she gasps for air, her forehead wrapped in a towel that is now drenched in sweat. Due to the excessive exertion, her breasts have developed small circles of milk stains, indicating that her milk has started to come in. However, with the baby not nearby, her breasts are painfully swollen.
The pain clears Anran's muddled thoughts, reminding her that she can't afford to be disheartened. No matter what is happening with the hospital, her daughter is still in the neonatal department. She has to find a way to get her daughter out of this hospital no matter what!
The lump of flesh that has fallen from her body gives Anran some resolve. She thinks it over and decides to go back downstairs to her room and call Zhan Lian. Although he is serving in the far northwest, he is a native of Xiangcheng, so surely he still has some connections there. Given how he managed to handle everything with just a few phone calls when buying a house and car, he is likely the key to solving this urgent situation!
Anran wants him to find a way to help, to see if he can get her daughter out of the neonatal department.
At this time, she doesn't care about the harsh words she has said before, claiming that no matter how desperate she is, she will not ask Zhan Lian for help. Her daughter’s well-being is more important.
Thus, with her body on the verge of exhaustion, she painstakingly makes her way downstairs, spending nearly 30 minutes to return to her room, Bed 16. She fishes her phone out from under her pillow and, without hesitation, dials Zhan Lian’s number.
“Beep... beep... beep...”
The phone rings for almost a minute with no answer. Anran, growing increasingly anxious, feels like she might lose her mind. This man is always like this, never there when she needs him most, never there!
His heart is only for his country, his army, his comrades!
After hanging up the phone, while Anran leans against the bed in distress, the corner of her curtain is pulled back. The postpartum woman in Bed 17, also wearing a headscarf, frowns at Anran with tears in her eyes and a weary tone, saying weakly:
"Hello, could you do me a favor? I’m in a lot of pain. Could you please call my husband for me?”
Her husband and mother-in-law have been gone for several hours, and it is now 10 a.m., yet it still seems dark outside with no sign of daylight. Bed 17 is growing anxious, both in pain and hungry, just wanting to find her husband and mother-in-law.
Anran hesitates for a moment. She wants to tell the woman in Bed 17 that there are strange people with bulging veins outside, suggesting that the hospital might be cursed. It seems unlikely that her husband and mother-in-law will return anytime soon. For some reason, Anran feels that the hope of their return is slim.
However, she nods and agrees to call Bed 17’s husband. Anran darkly thinks that perhaps the woman’s husband and mother-in-law are simply avoiding helping her. Anyway, there are only three postpartum women in this room, and if a man could lead and find a way to get the babies out, it would be helpful.
So Anran temporarily sets aside her anxiety, and with the number provided by Bed 17, her fingers fly over the phone. However, the line is busy.