After taking a shower, Yu Jingrong sat on the bed while Li Chengyuan gently rubbed medicinal wine into her foot at the bedside.
With gentle strokes from his slender fingers and a warm, dry palm, Yu Jingrong felt comforted. The past few days, she had been grateful for Chengyun. Without him, her foot injury wouldn't have healed so quickly.
As soon as he put the cap back on the medicine bottle, and was prepared to wash his hands, Yu Jingrong suddenly hugged his arm and leaned her body against his.
Li Chengyun grinned, his low, magnetic voice teasingly echoed, "I haven't washed my hands yet."
Li Chengyun wrapped his arms around her waist. Not too tightly, but just enough so she could lean into his strong, inviting embrace, pressing her face into his chest, breathing in his comforting scent.
She remained silent, the quietness calming her turbulent emotions.
