Meng Yuan narrowed his eyes and sat on the edge of the bed in silence.
Zhao Ling hurriedly took out the handkerchief to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth, but more blood still overflowed from the corner of his lips, she couldn't help panicking, got up and wanted to have Situ Gong come over to show him, but Meng Yuan stretched out his hand to hold her.
He shook his head at her, then simply closed his eyes, sat and adjusted his breath for a while, and his expression softened a little when he opened his eyes again. Seeing Zhao Ling's worried look, he smiled at her and said softly, "Don't worry, it's fine."
Zhao Ling frowned slightly, looked at him carefully, then grabbed his wrist and probed the veins of his wrist, her brows furrowed even deeper, and said displeasedly, "Why didn't you tell me about the internal injury? Until now, do you really think that you are made of iron?"
