"But... don't you find it very disgusting?" His heart trembled, his eyes fixed on her without blinking, his voice fragile.
Ye Lu picked up the tray, placed the medicines and tools Yan Su spoke of onto it, and walked over.
"It is a bit disgusting," Ye Lu admitted truthfully, paused, then said softly, "It must hurt, such a wound must be very painful."
Upon seeing the wound, there was an instinctive disgust, but more than that was shock and disbelief – just how painful must such a wound be, even looking at it made one tremble.
What exactly caused it? It didn't seem like a gunshot or knife wound; those are smooth incisions.
Yet this wound on his back was so deep it was nearly a puncture, with flesh turned out and many spots of mangled tissue on the surface.
It felt as if a bunch of blunt bamboo sticks had been thrust viciously into the wound, then stirred into a mess, extremely cruel.
