“Take it off,” Song Qingyou coughed.
Seeing that she started coughing, Fu Wenzhou didn't dare to argue with her anymore. He turned his back to her and unbuttoned his shirt with one hand.
The man's back was broad and thick, with distinct grooves, and every muscle looked beautifully sculpted with smooth lines. Paired with his face, it was perfect and impeccable.
Song Qingyou's expression grew even colder.
Fu Wenzhou was originally dressed very conservatively, so Song Qingyou couldn't see the specific wounds. She thought that Zhang Song wouldn't hit him hard, but she didn't expect him to beat him so badly that there wasn't a single good piece of flesh on his body.
"You don't know how to fight back?"
Fu Wenzhou raised his long, narrow eyebrows and upturned eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly: "Youyou, are you unhappy?"
Song Qingyou lowered her eyes, opened the first-aid kit and helped him apply the medicine: "This medicine won't leave a scar."
Fu Wenzhou was naturally hot-tempered, and the cool touch of the ointment was just right. He stared intently at the person applying the medicine to him. Fu Wenzhou was very tall; although Song Qingyou was 1.68 meters tall, he was still 20 centimeters taller than her.
He took a step closer, easily standing in front of her. When he got this close, his lowered chin looked as if he was about to kiss her forehead.
"hiss!"
Song Qingyou resumed her previous, more forceful gesture: "Behave yourself."
Fu Wenzhou smiled, leaned down slightly, stared at her, and said in a low, husky voice, "Youyou."
His voice seemed to be covered with tiny hooks, deliberately provocative.
Song Qingyou's fingers trembled. After a moment of silence, she tossed the ointment to him: "Apply it yourself, once in the morning and once at night. You can go now."
Fu Wenzhou's figure stiffened for a moment.
Two seconds later, his gaze slowly returned, and he gradually suppressed the emotions in his eyes.
"Are you really that annoying to me?"
His voice was deep and hoarse.
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