His black eyes, bright with surprise and delight, flashed unexpectedly across his handsome face.
After a moment, he pursed his lips and spoke in a calm voice.
"Just a small injury."
Upon hearing his words, Summer Shawcross was at a loss.
In his view, what qualifies as a serious injury? Does it have to threaten one's life to count as serious?
"There's already so much blood, how could it be just a small injury?" she murmured, biting her lip, her voice filled with an inexplicable choke.
She lowered her head, worriedly looking at the wound on his wrist, her eyes reddening instantly.
Someone like her fears pain—she finds even a needle prick painful—but his hand had been sliced open so deeply, how could it not hurt? Yet he always endured his injuries in silence...
