"Come, while we still have a little time, let me tell you a few more important things."
For the next while, the only sound in the room was the low murmur of their voices.
Dean Yuan explained everything to Song Qingya bit by bit: the projects the hospital was currently advancing, the situation in several key departments, and the personnel matters and individuals she needed to be aware of.
He explained in detail, and Song Qingya listened intently. When she occasionally asked a question, Dean Yuan would answer patiently.
Just then, a knock came from the door.
"Dean Yuan, the car is ready."
Dean Yuan glanced down at his watch, a complicated emotion flickering in his eyes.
"Alright."
He stood up and patted down his old military uniform.
Song Qingya stood up as well.
Her hand was still clutching the notebook tightly, as if she were holding on to a promise, a mission.
Dean Yuan's expression turned somber and exceptionally grave.
"Qingya."
