Zhang Xiaohu still couldn't feel at ease, and cautiously took Zhang Xiaohua from Shangguan Yun's hands, listening carefully to Zhang Xiaohua's face, until he heard his faint breathing. Only then did he feel slightly relieved, as long as there was no immediate risk to life, everything else could be dealt with.
However, when Zhang Xiaohu's gaze fell on Zhang Xiaohua's fractured hand, he couldn't help but feel heartbroken. The hand was not only bloody but had also swelled into a purple-green bruise, making the entire little hand look like a steamed bun. He stared resentfully at the person responsible for causing all this.
But then, Zhang Xiaohu could not bring himself to hate him right away.
There was Yu Deyi, walking over with faltering steps and a pale, golden face, a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth, and blood stains on his chest. Evidently, his injuries were more severe than Zhang Xiaohua's.
