In the hospital bed, Wu Bai, a hundred years old, slowly opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling above him, one by,He tried to recall it, but the memory seemed unbearable. The more he thought about it, the worse his headache became. He winced in pain and reached out to cover his forehead, which was bandaged.,All sorts of voices, incessant and unending. Xia Mo Han had known for a long time that these relatives in her own family were most eager to make fun of Wu Baisui. She had thought she could simply ignore these voices, but the reality was that it was still hard to bear, having such a foolish husband. In front of others, she could never hold her head up high.。