Hearing this, Feng Ling turned to scan him; indeed, the front of his shirt was damp.
Earlier, he had bent down for her to wash his hair. The water must have dripped down his chest when she was washing away the soap.
Feng Ling did not suspect his intentions. "I'm sorry, I didn't pay attention. I'll help you wipe it off."
Li Nanheng finally then straightened his back. His gaze directly landed on her face.
Feng Ling remained serious as she brought a towel from the side and began wiping at his shirt. She looked at his shirt and said apologetically. "Take it off and wash it. Do you still have a spare set of clothes? I'll bring it over for you. Change into it first."
The man did not move his limbs and only moved his lips. "En, help me change."
Feng Ling paused with the towel in her hands. If she did not know that his wrist was injured, she would really suspect that he was intentionally messing with her.
