Yue Jiaojiao lay on the hammock and applied the medicine to Zhao Zhan's face.
"Take off your clothes, let me see if you have other wounds."
"I'm fine. The rest have been treated." Zhao Zhan shook his head and refused to move. He didn't even dare to raise his voice. "Don't look at it."
Yue Jiaojiao frowned. "If you don't let me see it, don't expect me to help you in the future."
Seeing that his repeated rejections were about to make her lose her temper, Zhao Zhan immediately shut up and obediently took off his outer shirt and undid his inner shirt, revealing the wound on his waist.
There were very few traces of fat on his body. He had broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and eight packs. On his lower abdomen, there was a wound about the length of a palm.
The wound looked like it had been cleaned, but not well enough.
Yue Jiaojiao clenched the medicine jar in her hand tightly.
