Ye Cheng pretended not to hear, burying his head in the medical kit as he pulled out an ointment for bruising. But when he heard Zimei's words, his hand trembled slightly.
"Stretch out your arm." He looked up at the woman, speaking in an almost commanding tone.
Zimei obediently extended her arm, holding it out in front of him.
A deep bruise marred the woman's arm. It was clear how heavy the door must have been when it closed earlier to leave such a mark.
In that moment, it must have hurt a lot.
The man lowered his gaze, staring at the arm in front of him for several seconds. His face, illuminated by the desk lamp, was breathtakingly perfect—his long, thick lashes casting faint shadows over his striking features.
Clearly a man, yet his skin was impossibly flawless—fair, clean, without a single blemish.
Zimei looked at him, transfixed, momentarily dazed.
Ye Cheng seemed to realize the shift in his emotions and was startled.
What on earth was he just thinking!
