Mei nodded gloomily, getting out of the bed and walking out of the room, repeating: “Do whatever you think is right. Nothing is right. Everything seems wrong.”
Turning a blind eye on her gloom, Bing only gripped her nod. “Call me when you have the money.”
He looked not at all tired or sleepy or sad, as though he was happy calling the end of his duty by having successfully passed his problems to Mei.
Exhausted Mei could barely squat in the toilet. The same haunting words fl ew over her head like fl ies bothering her old and new wounds. Do whatever you think is right. Nothing is right. Everything seems wrong.