The tiny human moved the hearts of all in the room. Only Zhou Yao's face was dark and solemn. His white gloves were already soaked with blood, yet her wound was still bleeding.
He did not know what to do. All he could do was to stitch up her wound with a needle at the moment.
His hands were trembling, and his breathing was erratic. He did not even notice how his stitching was ill-performed and crooked. It was so unpleasant, like a crawling worm.
After the wound was sewn up, he took off the white gloves and wiped his hands unsteadily. He sat by the bed and held Leng Zhiyuan's cold little hand tightly, "Honey, hold on for a little longer. The medical reinforcements from abroad will arrive soon. You will be fine."
He said those words to reassure her as well as himself.
