In the silent hospital corridor, the cries of anguish, like those of a wounded beast, echoed continuously.
They struck people's hearts, blow after blow.
Standing nearby, Ann Lei had long since become a weeping figure, and even the accompanying officer and bandit soldiers clenched their teeth, their eyes red and brimming with tears. Even the doctors and nurses, who were accustomed to life and death, wiped away the tears that streamed from their eyes.
In the eyes of all women, men are naturally like mountains.
They are substantial, strong, tolerant, possess supreme willpower, and are accustomed to burying all pain in their hearts, used to getting back up silently from where they fell, continuing forward.
Those who endlessly complain over minor setbacks, and sit down despondent over trivial matters, can only be called boys. Only when they learn to grit their teeth, hold their heads high, shoulder responsibility, and remain silent in their suffering, do they become truly grown men.
