"It doesn't hurt."
Mo Shangjun moved her right hand, answering with a tone light as a cloud, breezy as the wind.
Ya Tianxing slightly raised his eyes, praising her without a trace of change in his expression, "Impressive."
"Just average."
Nodding slightly, Mo Shangjun modestly accepted the compliment.
Ya Tianxing's gaze grew a tad colder.
But Mo Shangjun seemed as if she hadn't seen it, touched her nose, and sat back down calmly.
Even if it hurt, it was her suffering. Was there any point in scowling for others to see?
Already in a foul mood, Mo Shangjun found her mood worsen upon encountering his less-than-satisfactory attitude. She took off her jacket and tossed it to him, then couldn't be bothered to look at him again.
Ya Tianxing caught the jacket without getting angry. He glanced at the military doctor who was watching from the side, signaling for him to quickly redress Mo Shangjun's wounds.
