After drinking a small bowl of hot porridge, He Yingdong slowly began to recover.
She helped him semi-recline against the head of the bed.
She looked up at him, and his deep, intense eyes met hers.
Half of his cheek was bruised, and some stubble had grown on his chin.
She silently lowered her head, "Let me clean your wounds for you!"
He didn't move!
She took an emergency medicine pack from the drawer.
Using scissors, she cut through his tattered shirt, revealing the wounded flesh underneath. Even though she was extremely careful, peeling off each piece of fabric tore open the wounds.
He didn't cry out in pain, not even a shiver.
Halfway through cleaning, she couldn't help but throw down the scissors and ran out the door, sobbing.
Yes, this was all her fault!
All the suffering he endured was because of her; it was she who harmed him.
"Qiqi..."
His low, hoarse voice came.
She wiped her tears haphazardly, then slowly walked back in.
She glanced up at him.
