After a while, Xiao Song released Ran Yan, his expression as usual, accompanied by a faint smile, "Can your hand still move?"
Her arm moved slightly, and intense, piercing pain shot through it, causing a sudden cold sweat on her back.
"Is the bone broken?" Xiao Song frowned, his imposing aura inadvertently showing.
Ran Yan hissed, "My left hand is fine, but the forearm of my right hand is fractured."
Xiao Song silently tore off his sleeve and skillfully attended to her arm. His wet, black hair dangled by the side of his face, chest, and back, soaking his plain white undergarment. Through the patches of moonlight leaking from the branches above, one could vaguely see his solid chest and back, and his well-defined face and neck glistening with droplets of water. He looked as if he had just hurriedly climbed out of a bath.
