Chapter 952: Despair

Wanting sat at the bus stop, hugging a cardboard box.

People waiting nearby didn’t want to sit close to her.

Normally, if there were a crowd, Wanting would give up her seat, but today she sat at the corner, motionless, staring woodenly at the road.

As vehicles passed by, her eyes didn’t shift at all, like a lifeless person.

Very wooden, very dazed, and very sorrowful.

Suddenly lost her purpose.

Didn’t know what to do, or what would become of the future.

If she’s not a doctor, what else could she do?

Her major was fashion design, but she fell in love with medicine halfway through.

In terms of design, she only does homework, and she’s already out of practice.

Picking it up again would be difficult; now she can’t even compare to first-year students.

What to do.

What should she do?

Wanting sat there until night, when the last bus had finished its service.

She couldn’t go home, and wanted to rent a room nearby to sleep for the night.

But the hotels near the hospital were expensive.

She bit her lip, carried her box through several streets, and eventually went to an old alley and rented a less than ten-square-meter single room in a shabby, rundown hostel.

As soon as she opened the door, the unpleasant smell of dust hit her face, and Wanting coughed a few times, waving her hand before her face.

The room had just one bed and one table.

A corner of the table leg was missing, casually propped up with folded cardboard.

The yellowing tiles hadn’t been mopped for a long time.

Black dirt encircled the cardboard, very grimy.

The wall by the window was waterlogged, the plaster falling off, and the bed was placed against that wall.

The window was at the foot of the bed.

Wanting opened both the door and the window to let in some air.

She went to the restroom in the corridor, and after returning, she didn’t plan to shut the door.

But suddenly there was noise in the corridor.

She looked up, seeing an elderly man holding half a bottle of alcohol, staggering past her doorway.

His murky eyes suddenly lit up, and he leaned on the door, not moving.

“Little girl, want to play with uncle?”

Wanting felt a chill all over her body, scared to the point of her hair standing on end.

Summoning courage from somewhere, she closed the door.

The man leaned on the door, preventing her from closing it, rudely trying to push his way in.

Wanting shoved her phone in his face, shouting loudly, “I’ve called the police!

I’ve recorded your behavior just now.

If you’re not afraid, come in and let the police catch you red-handed!”

The man hesitated, clearly intimidated.

Wanting seized his moment of distraction, forcefully shut the door.

The man kicked the door, “Pretending, huh!

What kind of good person stays in a twenty-yuan hostel!

You’re just a street seller.

I’m willing to come in and have some fun, you’re lucky!

Pretending to be a pure college student!”

Wanting leaned against the door, her body tense, not daring to move.

After the man’s cursing and swearing faded into the distance, all the strength drained out of her body in an instant, and she slid helplessly to the ground.

So helpless.

The tears she held back all day in front of others fell down.

Hugging her knees, she cried for a long time.

After crying, she didn’t go out again.

She called the landlady for a pot of hot water.

There was a basin in the room.

She had brought bottled water, mixed it with some boiling water, and washed her hair.

But the paint had been stuck for too long and couldn’t be completely cleaned off.

Wanting had to tie up her hair, planning to find a time to cut off the ends.

At night Madam Ye called, asking why she hadn’t returned home.

She lied about having an emergency surgery, that Doctor Xu permitted her to observe, uncertain about how long it would last, telling Madam Ye not to wait for her.

That night Wanting barely slept; she dragged through to the next morning, then tidied herself up briefly.

But after returning home, even greater despair awaited her.