Ye Qingqiu frowned and glanced at her arm. "In order to throw a tantrum and hurt myself? What do I want?"
Li Tingshen reached out to hold her hand and looked at the obvious red dots on her wrist.
"Why did you suddenly think of cooking? Don't you know your own worth?"
Ye Qingqiu retracted her hand. "Is it wrong to want to cook for you?"
Li Tingshen stood up, took the medicine box and sat beside her.
"It doesn't hurt anymore."
"I don't like scars." Li Tingshen grabbed her hand and carefully applied the medicine on it.
"The medical kit isn't that full. Think about it, why is that? Hmm?"
Other than some conventional emergency medicine, almost everything else belonged to Ye Qingqiu.
There were wounds of all sizes every few days.
Ye Qingqiu looked at his gentle actions and pursed her lips. "Nothing is certain. It's probably because I lived too comfortably when I was young, so you have to return it to me slowly."
