Qiao Jing sharply inhaled a breath of cold air and lowered her head to look at her right ankle.
Unbeknownst to her, her right ankle had swollen up considerably. She furrowed her brows tightly, beginning to recall yesterday's events.
The fight had been too chaotic, and she guessed that she must have twisted it carelessly during that time.
Zhan Qipei's feet had just touched the ground when, hearing Qiao Jing's voice, he almost lost his balance.
He hurriedly walked over to Qiao Jing, letting the woman lean on him.
"What's wrong?"
Qiao Jing stared at her injured ankle, with her right hand supporting herself on the bed, and shook her head.
"It's nothing."
Just as she tried to push the man away to stand firmly on her own, the man's hand on her waist suddenly tightened, making her lean into his embrace.
Zhan Qipei followed Qiao Jing's gaze and saw her swollen ankle, then his eyebrows knitted together even tighter, forming a deep furrow.
"When did you twist your ankle?"
