Chuzheng ignored Jing Po and sat to the side eating fruit.
"Want some?" Chuzheng had eaten half, then turned her head to ask the boy who was still curled up in the corner of the coffin.
The boy shook his head.
"If you starve to death, don't blame me."
Chuzheng finished the rest herself.
"What are you doing?" Chuzheng tossed away the pit, turned her head, and saw Jing Po undoing the leg she'd splinted.
The boy trembled slightly at Chuzheng's sharp bark. The bandage slipped from his hand, all the wraps came loose at once, and the plank fell off his leg.
"I went to all that trouble to tie it up for you." Chuzheng braced herself on the coffin edge, irritated. "Why are you taking it off?"
Jing Po was silent for quite a while, then pointed at the box beside him.
Chuzheng didn't understand what he meant.
The boy's voice was weak: "Medicine…"
