Love Began with the First Meeting
Chapter 827 Wing Is Receiving A Critical Operation (Part One)

As long as we have sincere and strong wishes in our heart and fight hard for them, then, it is certain that our wishes will come true. Beep...beep...beep...

At the hospital, the heart rate monitor continued its same stable and regular cadence.

Weston woke up suddenly, face contorted in fear like he was in the grip of a nightmare. He quickly turned his attention to the heart rate monitor. After hearing the regular beeping from the machine, he was a little relieved, replace out the woman lying on bed was still alive with a normal heart beat. So he took several deep breaths, closing his eyes, but his heart was still racing violently.

He rested his face in his hands, while pain and despair were spread quickly over his features... He rubbed his face, then dropped his hands and opened his eyes. Slowly and quietly, he stood up from the bed, strode over to the other side and sat on the chair, slowly and cautiously grabbing Wing's hand with his and kissing it gently.

Closing his eyes to feel her faint body temperature, Weston knitted his brow painfully, saying desperately, "Wing, please... Please wake up. I'm so scared!"

Still, he got no response, no matter how much he wanted it, and the unchanging sound from the heart rate monitor made him feel even more restless. Pain welled up in Weston as he kissed Wing's hand. Gradually, such pain was overwhelming, and tears ran from his closed eyes. The tears were hot, just like his seething heart. It was now too painful for him to even take a breath.

"Wing... Don't you know I feel so alone?" Weston asked sadly, choked by his tears. It broke his words, sobs racking his body, stopping him at every syllable. "Please... Don't lea-- leave me. P--please God. Ma-make her wake up. Wing. Wake up. Please!"

His helpless voice was full of great sorrow. Weston couldn't help it. He didn't know what else he could do for Wing. Since the doctor kept giving him prognoses of doom, his mind became increasingly restless. Watching her life slipping away day by day, he couldn't sleep. And even when he did finally fall into an exhausted slumber, nightmares would follow him.

Wing's doctor had advised him to talk with a therapist. He was much too anxious, and maybe talking about it would make him feel better. But what choice did he have, other than continuing to feel miserable? He felt as if he was gradually waiting for Wing to leave his life forever, but he could do nothing about it. He was experiencing a horrible feeling that made his life worse than death.

Suddenly, he was shocked out of his thoughts. The rhythm of the heart beat monitor changed suddenly.

Weston's eyes snapped open as he realized what was going on. His bloodshot orbs stared at the lines on the monitor, changing between a straight line and a curve quickly, completely disorderly and irregular.

He was startled and his breath came in short gasps. Before he had time to think, he quickly stood up and pressed the emergency bell...

Immediately, noisy and chaotic footsteps came from the hallway. Then, the door was pushed open and the doctors and nurses hurried forward with their instruments. Weston stood powerlessly off to one side looking at the busy doctors, his vision darkened as if he were covered in a layer of grey film. He watched impassively as they prepared defibrillator paddles to try and correct the heartbeat. They charged the machine, squirted gel on the paddles, and applied them to her chest. Wing's body jumped reflexively, but her heartbeat still didn't correct itself. The room filled with the smell of ozone.

"Notify Dr. Hayley! Prepare for catheter ablation, stat," said the doctor hurriedly to the nurse on one side, and then looked to the nurse on the other side, saying urgently, "Take Miss Long to Operating Room Three."

As the busy figures of the doctors and nurses were moving back and forth in front of Weston, they had no time to talk to and comfort him. After they removed the electrodes connected to Wing, they rushed to wheel her into the operating room.

Weston dragged his heavy, powerless body and followed the paramedics to the operating room. He stood outside, watched the doors close in front of him and the operation light flashed to "On," flickering his eyelids gently.

'Wing... I can't afford to lose you! This isn't goodbye, dammit! You can't leave me alone like this! If you go, I'll only have your portrait to look at for the rest of my life.'

His mind was racing wildly and painfully while he stood in front of the operating room. He wanted to believe that if he had faith, Wing would wake up... But, as more than two years went by, he began to lose hope. He was angry at himself for even believing she might wake up. He was now at a complete loss about what to do. With time slipping by little by little, the fog outside rendered the morning sky in myriad colors.

Weston stood still quietly outside the operating room for hours on end, not moving a single muscle, just like a sculpture. She was still in surgery, and the blood matching her blood type was sent into the operation room from time to time. The situation reminded him of a similar operation two years ago after Wing had her car accident, letting his heart beat get ever slower. He couldn't help feeling that he was losing Wing...

"Clack, clack, clack..." Hasty footsteps were drawing closer from the end of the corridor.

The footsteps belonged to Brian, Eric and Molly, who were running quickly towards the operating room. As soon as they arrived, they panted and instinctively looked at the closed door of the operating room, then at the listless Weston nearby.

"How is she?" Brian asked Weston in a heavy tone, a look of deep concern on his usual indifferent handsome face.

Weston blankly turned his head and looked at Brian. After gently blinking his feeble and heavy eyelids, he blankly shook his head, and then turned back, without saying a word.

Upon seeing Weston's demeanor Brian knitted his brows, increasingly anxious, but he had no choice but to wait.

Molly's nose turned red, much like her well-bitten lips, and her hands clenched tightly as she fixed her eyes on the door of the operating room. Tears welled in her eyes.

Eric also had a heavy face. He glanced at the rest of them lost in pain, then turned away.

To get an update on Wing's condition, he went to replace the head physician's office. Once there, the doctor looked at him, heaved a deep sigh and said seriously, "Miss Long's natural ability to reproduce platelets in her body has gradually declined as a result of her long-term coma, which has prompted the increasing quantity of bad platelets...."DOD