"Do you care?" Zhan Nanjue's voice was hoarse as he spoke, involuntarily looking at her.
In that instant, Gong Shirao felt his gaze so intense it made her heart race, his voice like a cello, striking a chord within her heart.
She was slightly stunned but quickly snapped back, saying, "I'm a doctor! Isn't it my duty to care for my patients?!"
Zhan Nanjue looked at her, his eyes deep, "I want the kind of care that's not from a doctor."
"What did you say?" For a moment, Gong Shirao didn't catch what he said and just urged him, "Quick, lift your leg."
Zhan Nanjue didn't hear her answer, but he did feel her hand half-supporting his ankle.
He forced himself to maintain a gentlemanly demeanor, suppressing his agitation. He couldn't scare her, absolutely not... He kept reminding himself, trying to appear nonchalant.
Gong Shirao had no idea what he was thinking; she was merely focused on examining his wound.
