It was already half-past eight when the two returned to the dormitory.
After Zhang Xiaoyu finished washing up, song qingxiao went into the bathroom and locked the door.
The area on her left arm where she had been whipped was now inflamed and red. When she took off her nurse's uniform, the yellow water that flowed out of the wound stuck firmly to her skin. When song qingwei tore the sleeve off her left forearm, she felt as if a piece of her skin had been peeled off.
Her whole body was shaking, and the sweat on the top of her head had soaked the ends of her hair. Zhang Xiaoyu was still outside, so she did not even dare to breathe loudly. She could only take small breaths and endure the pain.
The most troublesome part was the whip-stained wound on his left palm and the crisscrossing wounds on his palm. Fortunately, they were in a hospital. There was a small Emergency Medicine box in the bathroom, which contained all kinds of disinfectant.
