Su Nuannuan brought a book over, a world classic, One Hundred Years of Solitude—she initially couldn't get into it, but people who are older might enjoy such stories.
Otherwise, those brainless romance novels, with their ambiguous plots, she couldn't bring herself to read those aloud.
Soon, the clear voice of a girl echoed through the ward.
Meng Xing didn't disturb him, but he had to keep an eye here, so he sat off to the side, silently listening to the girl read.
At first, the girl's reading was a bit choppy, probably not accustomed to reading aloud for someone, but as she continued, she became more fluent, reading smoother and smoother.
Unconsciously, Meng Xing got lost in that bright voice, utterly absorbed.
Su Nuannuan read for half the afternoon, yawning, a bit dry-mouthed before she finally stopped.
The person in the bed showed no response whatsoever, and it was unclear if he heard or didn't hear.
Meng Xing hurriedly got up, saying, "Tired, right?"
