Jing Haohao, as if she hadn't heard Liang Chen's voice, remained in the same position, her gaze fixated on the heavy snow outside the window.
After waiting for a while, Liang Chen took a deep breath, suppressing the anger within. He spoke in a calm tone, "Give me your hand. Let me put some medicine on it."
Only then did Jing Haohao slowly shift her gaze. She looked at the ointment in Liang Chen's hand, then at her own bruised and purple wrist. What was he trying to imply? He was the one who had hurt her; now, he wanted to apply the ointment? Was he trying to compensate for the harm by offering a small consolation?
When he was angry, he treated her as he pleased. Once his anger was gone, he came to coax her. Was it her destiny to endure this every time?
Seeing that Jing Haohao had remained silent for quite a while, Liang Chen took the initiative to stretch out his hand and grabbed hers.
