Leng Chuchen hurriedly covered her wound and sat down opposite her.
How did you get hurt?
"No... I got scratched by accident."
He had deliberately injured himself, so he, who rarely lied, was somewhat incoherent.
"Give me your hand a little closer."
Leng Chuchen obediently stretched out her hand in front of her; the wound was still bleeding.
She frowned slightly and called out to Zhiruo:
"Get me some cotton swabs and hemostatic powder."
Both of these things were invented by her in her spare time over the past few years.
Medicated cotton is made from high-quality cotton that has been carefully selected, soaked in medicinal herbs, and then dried at high temperatures.
The hemostatic powder was made by her according to the Yunnan Baiyao formula, after multiple adjustments, processing, and grinding. Although it was far inferior to the genuine product, its hemostatic effect was the best for that era.
Zhi Ruo angrily placed the cotton swabs and hemostatic powder on the table. Zhi Wan took the cotton swabs, dipped them in her homemade disinfectant, and carefully cleaned his wound.
The gentle touch between their fingers caused Leng Chuchen's face to flush red.
Over the years, his father arranged several marriages for him, but he refused them all.
He kept his distance from the girls in the capital who fawned over him.
Apart from that one time four years ago, he had never had such physical contact with any woman.
When her fingertips touched his fingers, he felt a wave of warmth wash over him.
He admitted that he had never been so nervous before, not even when he was fighting on the battlefield.
Luo Zhiwan perhaps noticed that his gaze was secretly fixed on her. She frowned slightly, and without raising her head, warned him:
"Your wound must not get wet, and you need to change the dressing every three days."
He watched her sprinkle the hemostatic medicine on her hand, nodded slightly, and said yes.
"I understand, thank you."
His voice was hoarse, yet it made Luo Zhiwan's heart tremble slightly.
The voice felt familiar to her.
She suddenly looked up and met his gaze.
Leng Chuchen hurriedly and awkwardly looked away. She also frowned slightly and continued to lower her head to bandage his wound.
But her heart was trembling violently at that moment.
The man's eyes, his voice, and his resemblance to Yiming filled her with a sense of dread.
However, she shook her head inwardly, silently comforting herself: it can't be that coincidental.
It turned out that hearing the man's deep, husky voice, seeing his somewhat familiar eyes, and noticing the resemblance between his brows and Yiming's, reminded her of the man who had bullied her four years ago.
She bit her lip, finished bandaging his wound, let out a soft sigh, and offered a detached reminder.
"Fortunately, the injury wasn't serious this time. Don't accidentally hurt yourself when handling swords in the future."
She actually suspected that he had accidentally injured her?
How could this be? This is an extreme insult to him.
He had practiced martial arts since childhood, and his skills were among the best in the entire Celestial Empire. How could he be so foolish as to accidentally injure himself?
But this injury was clearly inflicted by himself, so he has no reason to deny it.
"Thank you, young lady."
He swallowed nervously and asked tentatively:
"Young lady, haven't we met somewhere before?"
His question made Zhiwan's heart leap into her throat.
She shook her head vigorously, pretending to be relaxed as she looked at him.
"How could that be? How could we possibly know each other? I've never left Phoenix, and this is your first time here."
Leng Chuchen nodded slightly
"Hmm, I probably mistook someone else for someone else."
He had barely finished speaking when that soft, sweet voice appeared again.
"Father, you're here!"
Upon hearing Yiming's voice, Zhiwan frowned, and Zhiruo quickly stepped forward to stop him.
"You brat, yelling again, aren't you?"
Yiming pointed at Leng Chuchen, pouted, and shook his head.
"I'm not making this up. I dreamt about him yesterday. He is my dad. Dad, please save Yiming. My aunt won't let me go to you."
When the little boy called him "Dad" again, Leng Chuchen's heart melted once more.
He turned to look at Luo Zhiwan.
"How old is he?"
"Dad, I'm three years old."
Before Luo Zhiwan could speak, Yiming impatiently shouted:
"Father, I haven't seen you for three years. Don't you miss me? Please come and save me."
His words left Zhiruo feeling both amused and exasperated. Zhiwan, with a cold face, rebuked him angrily:
"Yiming, didn't I tell you not to call other people 'dad'? Why can't you remember?"
Yiming pouted, looking aggrieved, and rubbed his little hands together, muttering to himself.
"But I feel like he's my dad!"
Zhiwan looked at him somewhat awkwardly.
"Young master, the child is young and likes to talk nonsense. Please don't mind him. Alright, your wound is bandaged up. Pay the money and you can leave."
She couldn't wait to get him out of there. She really didn't know what Yiming would say if things continued like this.
After Leng Chuchen nodded, he instructed Li Ping:
"Go pay the money."
"Young master, we..."
Li Ping wanted to remind him to mention to Doctor Luo about having her make house calls in the capital, but Leng Chuchen interrupted him directly.
Can't you hear me?
Li Ping hesitated for a moment, then quickly nodded in response.
"Yes, young master."
Li Ping turned to pay the bill, while Yi Ming, held tightly in Zhi Ruo's arms, stared at him expectantly.
"father……"
Zhiruo raised her hand and covered his mouth to prevent him from making a sound.
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