At the time, I would go out in the evening with my parents. But this time I had borrowed a bicycle from a friend of mine. I didn't know why, but once I was on my own bicycle, a kind of free feeling flooded through me. The faster I rode, the faster I wanted to go! Far ahead, I rode as if my life depended on it, head down, hands grasping the handbars. I meant to get to Jinghai Bar as fast as I could. . . Oh! My hands! Don't come any closer. . . Don't touch me! That poor doctor just couldn't get my gloves off. Each time he took a step towards me, I broke into painful shouting. Much later, I discovered that I had crashed heavily with another bicycle, and I hadn't spoken one word of sense for at least three hours! After some time, my mother arrived at the hospital, her face as white as a sheet, and gave me a hug , only then did the doctor begin to stitch my head wound, not only did he merrily cut off a long lock of my hair, but used no anaesthetic either! Later, I seemed to hear faraway voices saying that my right hand was broken. I almost burst into tears. How would I ever play the piano again? What did the writer think of the doctor?
Friendly. Cruel. Hard-working. Kind.