Song Zijin kept a hand pressed to his face, which still felt warm from Jiaojiao's palm.
Everyone was saying his face had been slapped by his wife, so he was still lost in a state of excitement. He only came to his senses halfway there when he realized they were heading toward the hospital.
He stopped in his tracks, saying, "Uncle Song, I'm fine. We don't need to go to the hospital."
"You silly boy, don't you know how to take care of yourself? Why did you have to get into a fight?" Uncle Song chided.
"Heh heh, Uncle Song, my face is just a little swollen. Look, not even a scratch."
Song Zijin was too embarrassed to admit he hadn't fought back, after all, his face was swollen like a pig's head.
"Even if it's just a surface wound, you should still get it looked at. Just look at how swollen your face is," Uncle Song said with concern.
