Third floor bedroom.
Because no one was walking, the corridor lights were extremely dim.
Song Shimiao walked lightly, afraid of disturbing Tang Yuanqing.
After all, he was an elderly man in his eighties, often requiring careful attention.
Sometimes even the slightest noise could disturb him.
She finally arrived at Tang Yuanqing's door, adjusted her attire, and then knocked.
"Come in." The old man's voice was like a bell, suggesting he was not resting.
Song Shimiao breathed a sigh of relief and cautiously pushed the door open.
Inside the room, the elderly man in his eighties was sitting in a wheelchair in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, holding a newspaper.
Seeing her, Tang Yuanqing's face broke into a smile, "Xiao Miao, you've come to see me."
Hearing the long-missed voice from her memories, Song Shimiao's eyes reddened slightly, and she quickly walked to his side, speaking warmly, "Yes, I've come to see you, Uncle Tang."
