C207 Deng Rong Fei(1)

The air was filled with the pungent smell of disinfectant, which she hated, as it had been when her father died. The white walls, the white quilt, everything here, the old man's faint and almost broken breathing, and the uneven images on the apparatus.

This was a damned place, the last place he wanted to be, and it reminded her of the day her father died, the day his face turned white