Song Yinyin was startled for a moment, then quickly snapped back to her senses. She hurriedly pushed against his chest, jumped down from the desk, and straightened up.
She cupped his injured arm, checking it over and over, front and back, and asked anxiously:
"What happened, what happened? Let me see—did I hurt your wound just now? Is it bleeding again? How about you take off the gauze, I'll re‑treat it for you."
Lu Jihan was amused by how nervous she looked and chuckled. "It's fine, you just brushed it lightly. It's no big deal."
Song Yinyin's heart ached for him; even the tip of her nose turned red. "I'm sorry, hubby, I didn't mean to…"
As she spoke, her eyes grew red, her expression pitiful and delicate, tugging hard at the heartstrings.
From Lu Jihan's angle, her pretty face was flushed, her lashes trembled, and that helpless, lip‑biting look made his chest heat up.
The next second, he couldn't help but lower his head again.
