An Yangning felt her cheeks instantly dye a bright crimson, blooming like a ripe peach under his gaze.
She averted her eyes, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her shirt, and murmured in a voice as soft as a mosquito's hum, "Your hand is injured... you can't just not wash."
Watching the tips of her ears turn red, Jiang Han felt the slight irritation caused by his wound vanish into thin air, replaced instead by a wave of teasing amusement.
Chapter 40