"On account of your sister's face, let's forget this matter."
Zhang Ya gave in and then patted her own bedside to signal An Xuan to come over. An Xuan inhaled sharply, his eyes widened, and then he turned his head, seeking help from his sister in a plea.
An Lan sighed helplessly, "Hurry up and sit down, doesn't your head hurt? Let Yaya give you a massage."
An Xuan sat down with a sigh of relief.
Although he hadn't said anything, Zhang Ya still understood the meaning behind An Xuan's earlier expression. She clenched her teeth, if it weren't for An Lan's persistent cajoling, even if An Xuan suffered in pain in front of her, she wouldn't have been moved.
After a twenty-minute massage from Zhang Ya, the pain in An Xuan's nerves had finally lessened significantly, and his heavy head now felt light and floaty.
