When dancing regularly, injuries often happen, so they usually carry some medicine for wounds with them.
An Siqing pulled Lin Xilu to sit on her bed, then carefully retrieved some medicine from her luggage. Standing in front of him, she began disinfecting and treating the wounds on his hand and face.
"Brother Xilu, bear with me, it might sting a little."
Her delicate face was filled with worry, and her hands moved with the utmost care.
Terrified that even the slightest excess force might accidentally hurt him.
Completely forgetting that he was a grown man, and these minor wounds were hardly worth mentioning.
Because An Siqing was standing, she had to bend slightly to apply medicine to the corner of his lips.
The soft rhythm of her breath fell lightly on Lin Xilu's face, making him unable to resist lifting his hand to touch her cheek.
"Siqing."
His deep voice, like it carried an enchanting spell, resonated softly near her ear.
