"Call the police?"
Jocelyn Morgan seed to have heard a novel term. She held her phone, thought for a mont, and looked up at the middle-aged man standing by the bed.
"Dean, what should I say if I call the police? My parents are gone, and now I only rember my boyfriend’s na, but I have no idea what he looks like, where he lives, or what he does."
The room fell into a brief silence...
Sabina turned her gaze, and asked in confusion, "Did big sister lose her mory, Dean?"
Jocelyn Morgan’s lips were slightly pale. She sighed lightly and murmured with so frustration, "Who is Vera Ford? Was it really Vera Ford who pushed ?" She suddenly realized her mory was a bit fuzzy, making her uncertain.
"Why would she push ?"
"I seem to know her, yet I also seem not to know her."
If she tried harder to recall, Jocelyn Morgan felt her head would split with pain. It wouldn’t work; she couldn’t think anymore.
Harlan Quinn assessed her injuries and advised, "You should heal first, and then drink so traditional dicine. You should be able to rember everything. This isn’t amnesia; at least you still rember who you are and what you do, which is good."
"Not amnesia?" Jocelyn Morgan looked at him happily.
He said, "This is just a more severe concussion. It can be treated with traditional dicine, but you still need plenty of rest."
Jocelyn nodded. Given the situation, there wasn’t much else she could do. In a few days, once she rembered, she would contact her friends.
She handed the phone back to the dean, then focused her gaze on Sabina’s face and reached out her hand to the little girl, "Hello, little one."
Sabina’s smile was gentle and sweet. She released the dean’s hand and placed her small hand into Jocelyn’s palm, "Hello, sister Jocelyn. You’ve survived a big ordeal; good fortune will surely follow."
What a sweet little mouth!
"What’s your na?" Jocelyn Morgan gazed into her eyes. People say the eyes are the windows to the soul, and this little girl clearly had an intelligence and grace about her.
The little girl spoke in a soft, sweet voice, "My na is Sabina. It’s the na the dean gave , aning gentle words and an unchanged original intention."
Jocelyn Morgan thought it was particularly nice and felt an instant connection with this little girl.
She glanced down at Sabina’s small hand and noticed she was wearing a rather distinctive bracelet. It was not sothing you’d easily find on a street stand, had so years to it, but each detail was ticulously crafted, and the design was very novel, with a small apple pendant.
Jocelyn thought, if she wasn’t abandoned, she must certainly be a daughter of a wealthy family, a cherished daughter of so great fortune, right?
"Sabina, let’s let big sister Jocelyn rest well first. We’ll co back to see her after the dicine is prepared, okay?" Harlan Quinn was also very gratified, as saving a life was more rewarding than building a seven-story pagoda.
Jocelyn released her hand and smiled at Dean Quinn, "Thank you so much, Dean."
"Not at all." The man, about to turn away, glanced back at her, "Focus on getting better. I have so knowledge of traditional Chinese dicine, and with your condition, you should recover in about a week."
Jocelyn Morgan was very pleased. She would certainly cooperate and take her dicine. Suddenly rembering sothing, she asked again, "By the way, Dean, do you have a laptop? I’d like to borrow it; my novel hasn’t been updated yet."
The novel was likely the only thing she could rember distinctly.
Harlan Quinn nodded, "Yes, I’ll have Sabina bring it to you."
"Okay." Jocelyn smiled, "Thank you, and thanks to Sabina, too."
"You’re welco," the polite little Sabina replied, "See you in a bit."
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