A very long, deep scar ran across his flesh, and it took a lot of styptic powder to finally stop the bleeding.
Jing Xuan had already stripped off his blood-soaked shirt, revealing a solid, robust, and exquisitely sculpted upper body.
He was sitting cross-legged in a bamboo chair, while Yang Jinghai stood behind him, skillfully and gingerly tending to his wounds.
Tang Huai stood by, feeling a warmth gathering at the corners of her eyes.
In the days to come, she had always thought that Jing Xuan was slashed while trying to save her.
If he hadn't dashed over to take that strike for her, it's likely her neck would have been cut off.
Tang Huai pouted, a tearful expression on her face as she stared at Jing Xuan's scar; it was her first time across two lifetimes to meet a man who would protect her without any regard for his own life.
Tang Huai's heart was already utterly moved.