Tang Zhixian shook her head. "It doesn't hurt anymore."
"Are you always so busy with work that you forget to eat?" Fu Junshen asked her as he sat by the side of the hospital bed.
Tang Zhixian replied, "Sometimes I just lose track of time when I'm occupied."
"You live alone, so you need to take better care of yourself. What if you have another acute gastritis attack and no one is around? What would you do then?" Last night, when Tang Zhixian passed out from the pain, she could have been in serious danger if she had been alone at home—too weak even to go downstairs and call a cab. She could have died without anyone knowing.
"I'll be more mindful in the future." That was all she said.
She was different from many other women—no fear, no self-pity.
It was as though her heart had closed off completely after her divorce, leaving no room for trust in relationships.
A woman with such a cold and guarded heart was impossible for anyone to get close to.