Hearing his voice, Song Qinghuan paused for a moment before glaring at him, her face flushed with anger.
She snorted coldly, suspiciously saying: "I'm beginning to think you were doing it on purpose earlier, purposely refusing to get up!"
Shi Yuhuan flashed his hand before her eyes, "So much blood—but I'm not stupid enough to just die, am I?"
"Was it really that serious!" Song Qinghuan murmured in disbelief.
Shi Yuhuan looked at her seriously: "There was a news story online recently, a man ignored a small wound on his foot and ended up needing an amputation. Do not underestimate such things, do you understand?"
"Have I become so cruel in your eyes? You know I didn't do that on purpose." Song Qinghuan, whose wound had already been treated, pressed down on his wound, wrapping it in revenge, growling angrily.
Shi Yuhuan didn't scream in pain, but furrowed his brows. With his uninjured hand, he quickly gripped Song Qinghuan's hand.
