Recently, Zhou Lezhi's illness had become increasingly severe, and she, not even ten years old, lay in a small bed that resembled a protective shield.
A specialized air filtration machine sat by the head of the bed, and a frame with clear plastic curtains was set up outside, trying to isolate all the germs from the outside world, like a miniature sterile laboratory.
Inside the protective shield, Lezhi, with her head shaved, lay quietly there, and every time Jiang Yurou came to visit, she felt particularly heavy-hearted.
This time Lezhi's leukemia relapse was the most serious than ever before, with the tumor cells doubling every day. She could only force herself to undergo one round after another of intense chemotherapy, and her originally chubby little face had now become sunken.
