Lu Jihan's face was dark as ink. Seeing that Song Yinyin had gone quiet, he let out a cold snort and said, "Why aren't you talking? Do you know where you went wrong?"
That tone, that attitude, was exactly the same as lecturing a son.
Song Yinyin pouted, knowing she was in the wrong, and didn't dare make a sound.
He first put a cold compress on her face and let her hold the towel herself.
After that, he took her little hand in his.
She was so scared she jolted, instinctively trying to pull her hand back.
"Don't move!"
Startled by his bark, Song Yinyin really didn't dare move.
It was only then that she vaguely felt a sharp sting coming from her fingertips.
She lowered her head and saw that at some point, a strip of skin on her right finger had been scraped open, leaving a bloody slit.
She had been completely unaware.
