When Cheng Anya came in after hearing the noise, Ye Feimo's fist was against the shattered mirror. His fist was covered in blood. He was bent over, looking defeated and pathetic.
Blood trickled down the mirror. Cheng Anya's pupils shrank, and her heart ached.
Any mother who saw her child in this state would be heartbroken. She turned around and went downstairs to get the first-aid kit. Ye Sanshao asked, "Is he hurting himself?"
Cheng Anya rolled her eyes at Ye Sanshao. "You haven't learned anything else, but you've inherited this well. Haven't you ever hurt yourself?"
She went back upstairs, put the first-aid kit down, and without a word, helped Ye Feimo out. Ye Sanshao also came upstairs and sat on the side, frowning silently. Cheng Anya carefully disinfected his hand, applied medicine, wrapped it in gauze, and tied a pretty bow.
