CHAPTER 982: CHAPTER 982: THE DRUNKARD SAYS HE WENT BACK HOME

"Beep... beep..."

The sound kept entering Qing Yi’s ears, and this anxious and long wait was nothing short of torture for Qing Yi, who was feeling restless in that moment.

Several times, he nearly smashed the phone, but he held back.

He waited patiently. When the first call went unanswered and disconnected automatically, he dialed again.

The ringtone kept echoing in his ear, finally pulling the drunkard back to reality from his nightmare.

He had undergone dialysis a few hours ago, and it had tortured him to the point of agony. His head was muddled, his consciousness foggy.

Sweat continued to trickle down his body, his legs occasionally twitched, and even breathing required effort.

The drunkard laboriously turned his head, looking at the phone with a lit screen incessantly ringing by the pillow.

He reached out with a hand so thin it was frightening and picked up the phone.

Seeing the name Qing Yi made his eyes instantly wet.

No one could understand the loneliness, fear, and helplessness he had felt in the hospital these days, so much so that just thinking of the name Qing Yi would make him weep.

His hand holding the phone trembled, not only because he dared not answer Qing Yi’s call, but also due to his physical condition.

The drunkard listened to the incoming ringtone, helplessly shedding tears but not daring to answer.

Finally, the phone went silent.

He felt relieved, yet he couldn’t resist the inner sense of loss and boundless solitude.

It seemed as though the world had left only him once more.

However, the phone, quiet for barely ten seconds, began to ring again.

The drunkard’s heart tightened with anxiety once more.

He stared at the phone screen, unsure of what to do.

In the end, he couldn’t resist his longing for Qing Yi. He yearned too much to hear his voice.

First, he cleared his throat, then answered the call.

He brought the phone to his ear, positioning the receiver carefully to ensure he wouldn’t miss hearing his voice.

He occasionally glanced at the door in case a nurse or doctor suddenly entered.

In that moment, he was as anxious as if on an operating table, even his breath slightly rapid.

"...Hello?"

When Qing Yi was on the brink of despair, the sudden voice left him stunned.

He almost couldn’t believe the call had really connected.

And upon hearing the drunkard’s calm "hello," the multitude of emotions pent up within Qing Yi nearly erupted.

Qing Yi struggled to restrain his emotions, gripping his phone tighter and tighter until it shook.

He was angry, yet also happy.

The drunkard held his breath, quietly awaiting Qing Yi’s response.

After a while, Qing Yi’s voice came through the receiver: "...Where are you?"

Even though Qing Yi tried hard to make his voice sound normal, one could still hear the choking and suppression in his voice.

He was scared—scared that the drunkard’s phone would forever go unanswered, scared that he’d stop replying to his messages, scared that the drunkard would just suddenly disappear, never to be found again.

Hearing Qing Yi’s voice, the drunkard couldn’t help but smile as tears quickly filled his eyes.

In that moment, he seemed unafraid of even the most potent of illnesses.

The drunkard looked at the mottled ceiling, felt the chill in the room, forced a smile, and said:

"I’m home."

Tears silently slipped down from the corners of his eyes, just like the desolation he was desperately trying to hide.

"You’re home?" Qing Yi was taken aback. After collecting himself, he propped himself up against the wall, hurriedly standing.

"I’m coming back to find you right now."

"I’m at my old home," the drunkard’s voice came through again.