After taking Qiao Ling home and turning on the lights, he noticed that her complexion hadn't recovered, still so pale, and there was even a thin layer of sweat on her forehead.
"What, does it still hurt?"
Qiao Ling looked listless. As she took off her coat and accidentally touched her wound, she couldn't help but inhale sharply.
Wei Chengfeng went over to take her coat, looked her up and down, and asked with furrowed brows, "Are you all right?"
"It's nothing, don't worry." Qiao Ling smiled weakly, but just as she finished speaking, her body involuntarily swayed.
Wei Chengfeng promptly supported her, "Still saying it's nothing? Sit down first."
He helped her to the couch, went into the kitchen, and brought back a glass of water for her, "How could the wound get infected?"
