Late-spring cherry blossoms drifted down and settled into Zhou Ning'er's hair. She stood at the end of the hospital corridor, her phone screen lighting up and then going dark. It was the seventeenth missed call from a number etched deep into her bones—Ming Zhiye.
The smell of disinfectant mixed with the scent of cherry blossoms, causing a spasm in Zhou Ning'er's stomach. She stroked the slight curve of her abdomen, the icy metal door handle leaving a piercing chill in her palm. The cry of a newborn echoed from the delivery room, a sound like a fine needle piercing her carefully constructed defenses.
Memories rushed over her like a tide.
Chapter 93