But he clearly told her that he wasn't injured.
She was stunned for a few seconds before hurriedly coming to her senses. She took the medicine and gauze from the tray beside her and came to the sofa, half-kneeling beside him, and began to change his dressing.
The man leaned against the sofa, with a calm gaze, staring intently at the servant in front of him.
Summer Shawcross carefully peeled the gauze off Noah Drexler's wound. When she saw the bloody mess underneath, her face turned pale. Fortunately, Sister Xue had applied dark special makeup on her face and body, so Noah Drexler shouldn't be able to see her expression or notice anything unusual at this moment.
She held her breath, gently picked up some cotton, dabbed it with the medicine, and slowly cleaned the blood from his wound.
The injury didn't look like a new, light wound; instead, it seemed like an old wound that had been infected, flared up again, and then re-stitched.
Her nose couldn't help but sour.
