Yan Qishan saw the pus sore behind Zhang Hua and got so frightened that his legs wobbled. Hearing Qin Liuxi's remark about slapping, his face twitched, and his lips quivered.
"This, how could this..." Wen Fulin, being of age, was almost fainting in fear.
Zhang Hua, seeing them in such a state, felt a surge of panic and asked, "My lady, what's wrong? What about my poisonous sore?"
Wen Jinshe's fingertips trembled, but she couldn't utter a word.
"Mirror, bring a mirror."
Zhang Hua, seeing them motionless, simply got out of bed himself, came in front of a bronze mirror, turned his head to look, and his expression became terrified. His gaunt and sunken face immediately crumbled, and with a swoop, he knocked the bronze mirror to the ground, wildly shouting, "How could this be?"
The big poisonous sore was initially festering, and now it had become pus-filled and swollen. It's rapid flare-up was not the most severe yet.
