Zhou Lu quickly diverted his gaze as if one more glance at her was too repulsive, "You think I would fancy a woman who's been played by others?"
Su Jian's complexion faded slightly, but she still smiled, "If you don't fancy me, you're still the one who played the most, aren't you?"
He gritted his teeth, "Shut up."
Su Jian didn't speak again, just chuckled lightly, her mockery was intense.
Zhou Lu turned and walked to the bedroom. When he came out, he was holding a medical kit. Then he forcibly pulled Su Jian onto the couch to sit, shining a slit lamp continuously into her eyes, and checked her head.
Su Jian couldn't help but tease, "Your hands aren't instruments. If I really had a cerebral hemorrhage, could you feel it just by touching?"
Zhou Lu glanced at her, ignored her comments, and solemnly treated her wounds with a dark expression on his face.
Fortunately, they were superficial injuries, nothing serious.