Meng Yao hurried into the room, only to see Qin Zheng's shoulders and ribs covered with scratches. Some places had already scabbed over, and others were festering, with the lining sticking to the wounds.
He must have scratched himself while crawling through the dog hole.
The dog hole was small, and Qin Zheng was stout.
"Were your parents pushing you from behind?" Meng Yao asked softly.
Qin Zheng's body trembled, but he still didn't say a word.
Meng Yao sighed, realizing he hadn't yet come to terms with the sudden change.
"I'm going to separate your clothing from the skin, it might hurt a bit, no need to endure it," Meng Yao said again.
She took a small pair of embroidery scissors and heated them over the fire. It would have been better to have alcohol swabs; using fire was a bit lacking.
Meng Yao froze, suddenly seeing a small porcelain bottle appear in her hand.
Fortunately, her back was to Zhao Dahe and the others.
