Ye Wanting looked at him with confusion for several glances.
She wanted to ask but didn't know how to.
Suddenly, Yaen Chi raised his hand slightly.
Ye Wanting thought she had hurt him, quickly threw away the cotton swabs, held his hand with both hands, and asked with concern, "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"
Yaen Chi leaned lazily against the handrail, his eyes half-lidded, he slightly squinted. His lips curved into a smile, "Focus, brother's hand is injured, truly injured, not painted on. What are you looking at? Do I have something on my face?"
Ye Wanting's face turned crimson with embarrassment, she didn't dare to meet his eyes, timidly lowered her head, and continued applying medicine to his wounds.
All his injuries were from fighting, some severe, some light. It wouldn't make sense to wrap them all in bandages. Ye Wanting found some small pieces of gauze to cover the more severe injuries.
"Don't get it wet, okay?"
