Gong Ting brought Xiao Yu to the medical room. He carefully settled her onto a chair, and when he saw the wound on the back of her hand still oozing blood, his brows knitted tight. "Doctor, hurry up and bandage her."
The doctor didn't dare slack off, even though he felt it was just a minor cut. He took out some iodophor and disinfected the wound.
A sting shot through the back of her hand, and Xiao Yu shrank back. Gong Ting tensed up and snapped in a low voice, "Be gentle. Can't you see she's in pain?"
The doctor resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but his movements unconsciously softened. Xiao Yu looked up at Gong Ting's anxious expression, and warmth flooded her chest—yet the moment she thought of how they were about to part ways, that warmth turned sour.
Under the pressure, the doctor wrapped Xiao Yu's hand up like a rice dumpling. She was practically crying and laughing at the same time. It was just a bit of blood—wasn't this way too dramatic?
