Wang Yi glanced back at the father.
The man looked to be in his late thirties. His hair was beginning to gray, wrinkles crisscrossed the corners of his eyes, and his eyes were bloodshot.
Clearly, since learning about his child's condition, he hadn't been getting much sleep.
They might have been from different countries, but they were both fathers.
Wang Yi could imagine how difficult things must have been for him.
He didn't know how to comfort a father in that situation.
In the end, all he could do was reach out and pat the man on the arm.
"Then I'll be going. Goodbye."
The man nodded.
Wang Yi got into the car, and Mitchell drove out of the Parking Lot. The man watched the car disappear into the distance for a long time.
Then he hurried toward the garden.
Now, he felt a little more hopeful.
He hoped his son would make it through the surgery.
Half an hour later, while Wang Yi was on his way back to Memphis, little Bess had already been wheeled into the operating room.
Before the anesthetic took effect, the boy clutched the blue wristband Wang Yi had given him tightly in his right hand.
It was a star's wristband—and one Wang Yi had personally given him.
It was the most precious thing he owned.
As the anesthetic took hold and he began to drift off, the image of him bumping fists with Wang Yi moments earlier still lingered in his eyes.
He also made up his mind: he would go to Memphis during the Playoffs to watch Wang Yi play.
Meanwhile, with the haters stirring things up, the story of Wang Yi failing to respond to the sick child continued to spread online.
Many people who didn't know the facts had