"Is the umbrella upstairs? Do you want to come up with me?" Zhou Qingrang said, "You can also wait here."
Lu Sheng immediately responded, "I'll go up with you."
The ending sound of her words fluttered.
Lu Sheng, stay calm, stay calm.
Zhou Qingrang agreed and turned the direction of his wheelchair, leading the way in front.
Because it was the dead of winter and it was cold, his fingertips were frozen red, and the skin on the back of his hands, extremely pale, contrasted sharply in color.
Lu Sheng gazed at his hands for a long time and hesitated for quite a while before she finally spoke up, "Let me push you." Her offer seemed presumptuous, so she asked, "May I?"
Zhou Qingrang politely refused, "No need, thank you."
He seemed to be the kind of person who didn't like to trouble others, so he always kept to himself, always pushed others away, living proudly and alone.
Once they got into the elevator, he kept coughing, and his hand holding the handkerchief slightly trembled.
