Song Yiyi asked the doctor, "Can you wipe the sweat off his body?"
The doctor nodded, "Okay."
When Song Yiyi went in again, Cen Yue curled up into a ball with a frown on his face.
He is so tall when he stands up, but now he looks very small.
Song Yiyi walked over to him and sat down, calling out, "Cen Yue?"
She was answered with a whimper.
Song Yiyi: “…”
I have really broadened my horizons.
It’s a pity that she didn’t have a cell phone, otherwise she would have recorded it.
From now on, this will be the biggest leverage over Cen Yue.
Song Yiyi resigned herself to helping Cen Yue wipe his face, neck and hands.
She stood by the bed, pursed her lips, struggled for a while, and finally gave up taking advantage of the situation.
I could have used it as an excuse to wipe the sweat off my face and touch my abs.
But she is an upright person and would not do such a vile thing.
He simply pulled open the thin white quilt at the end of the bed and covered Cen Yue tightly.
Cen Yue seemed to have fallen asleep.
But it was not stable, and her long, fine black eyelashes trembled slightly.
Song Yiyi muttered: "A grown man looks like an eyelash fairy."
She went out to pour water and returned the basin.
The doctor on duty had prepared the IV drip and was walking into the inner room carrying a white tray.
Song Yiyi followed behind.
At this time, footsteps were heard outside the clinic door.
Before anyone came in, the loud voice had already started howling.
"Medic, medic!"
The wailing was mixed with a hint of complaint, "I am in so much pain, help me stop the bleeding!"
As he spoke, a figure headed straight for the doctor on duty.
The white plate in his hand was about to be knocked over, and the glass bottle inside was shaky.
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