Wang Jianguo gritted his teeth as he gently lifted Yang Huaixi’s arm. The stench of putrid blood mixed with the lingering fragrance of medicinal herbs washed over him, reminding him of how the old man used to look, deeply focused, when brewing medicine in the past.
As he wound the cloth strip, Yang Huaixi, who was in a coma, suddenly let out a muffled groan. Startled, Dour lunged back over, trembling as she pressed down on the other end of the bandage.
Their three shadows, cast by the moonlight, overlapped and swayed, much like a candle flickering in the wind and rain.
Chapter 721