Yu Yanshen's hand that rested on the side of her face seemed to tense up because of what she said.
He watched her silently for a few seconds, as if trying to read something from her face.
Just when Yao Qing was about to get displeased from being stared at, Yu Yanshen suddenly withdrew his hand.
He turned and half leaned against the tatami on one side.
Without any concern, he switched on the light overhead, illuminating his shoulder blades in a moment.
That was when Yao Qing saw it.
The wounds weren't just on his chest.
On his back... around his waist, as well as the back of his neck and the corners of his lips, there were marks that were neither deep nor shallow.
A dark shade rose from the depths of her eyes, and her thin, crimson lips pressed tightly into a line.
Yao Qing had always believed she was skilled at treating wounds.
At least, she had once painstakingly pulled a bamboo splinter from her waist bit by bit, then applied medicine and stitched it up.
