E Jintang had passed out.
Given his size, it took six or seven attendants to carry him into a room together.
Song Lianhe moved quickly. She first cut open his clothes, then had Yin Huan help clean the wound.
Although Yin Huan had started out crying her eyes out, she knew what was important and was used to such scenes. After wiping her tears, she took a linen cloth, dipped it in water, and began cleaning the wound bit by bit.
Song Lianhe sterilized a silver needle in a candle flame, threaded it, and began to suture the wound.
Watching the silver needle pass through flesh and skin, Gu Ha felt his scalp tingle. Yet Song Lianhe's hand didn't even tremble.
Zhou Junlin watched her quietly. Her calm composure and the determination in her eyes were particularly captivating.
Not until night fell did Song Lianhe finally wipe the sweat from her brow.
"Done."
His wounds were deep and numerous, making the suturing a true test of skill.
