The gentle ointment forms a thin layer on the skin, colorless and odorless, but unusually cool and smooth. Xia Xue used a pillow to support herself, her arched body accentuating her surprising curves. Xiao Lin's fingers, as if playing the piano, meticulously and evenly applied the ointment over the previous wounds again and again.
He hadn't spoken a word all night. Lian still lay in the hospital, and under Xiao Lin's insistence, she had no choice but to continue the so-called hospital observation, even though her injuries were just a bullet passing through her arm and shoulder. Such wounds were usually dealt with by simply removing the bullet and bandaging up, yet he made a fuss over it. This tension left both women feeling helpless, unable to refuse him.
