The three of them—mother and daughters—knew this wasn't a good time to talk. They were relieved to see that Xiao Wu was all right.
Ji Qingwu did not linger at the entrance for long.
After she left, Si Hai stared at the wutong tree before him, silent and unmoving.
A moment later, the door to the room opened. Someone emerged and walked toward the courtyard gate.
Si Hai turned to look and saw it was Ji Qingwu's young maid, Lan Zhi. With a trembling hand, she held out a pale yellow porcelain box.
"My lady said the ointment inside works wonders on flesh wounds. She asks that you please use it, my lord."
Sanchuan was about to refuse, but Si Hai took it directly in his palm.
After the maid scurried away, he stuffed the porcelain box into Sanchuan's robe and said, "This is what she should have done in the first place."
The whip marks covering his body were all because of her, after all.
