Ji Qingwu asked softly, "Besides the injuries on your face, are you hurt anywhere else?"
When Yan Zongrang heard his grandson had been in a fight, he had immediately berated Yan Bing mercilessly. He had never once asked so gently if he was hurt anywhere else.
Yan Bing replied weakly, "My leg hurts. I bumped it."
Ji Qingwu lifted his pant leg and saw a large, dark bruise, just as she'd suspected. She winced just looking at it.
She pressed the area gently with her hand. Yan Bing endured the pain without a sound. "You haven't broken any bones. Just apply some ointment for bruises, and it'll heal in four or five days."
Seeing that she had the audacity to examine the wounds, Imperial Censor Yan grew even more incensed. "When a son is not taught, it is the father's fault! Your child is so young, yet so unruly. This must be the result of your improper parenting and lack of family discipline!"
