With both hands behind his head, he lay on the bed almost the entire day, staring at the ceiling as if dead. The only one daring to disturb him, not treating him like a patient, was that clueless woman across the way.
The young lady Song, who was rescued and brought back, seemed too idle every day. Bored, she tied a string to a paper ball, and like a bouncing ball, she would throw it at his window with a "pop". Seeing no reaction from him, she would retrieve it and throw it again.
Doesn't she get tired of being so relentless?
He felt exhausted for her even if she wasn't.
He sighed lightly, turned over, and tried to ignore the noise, only to find it impossible. He had once crazily chased someone like that, so he understood her feelings all too well.
Pity, sympathy, compassion?
He didn't know.
