Bao Yancheng's eyes betrayed an unmistakable tenderness. His thin lips pressed together in displeasure, and his calloused fingers gently grazed over the blood-stained scabs.
His Adam's apple bobbed as he spoke hoarsely, "Get it treated before you leave. It'll only take a moment."
Without waiting for permission, Bao Yancheng took Wen Wanzi's hand and tucked it into his coat pocket.
Wen Wanzi's face heated up as she gently struggled to pull her hand away.
"I'm fine, it's just a small wound—"
Bao Yancheng strode briskly toward the surgical department, ignoring Wen Wanzi's faint protest. He turned back and shot her a serious look.
"Wanzhi, you're a designer. You need to protect these hands."
Wen Wanzi found herself unable to refuse and allowed Bao Yancheng to pull her along.
The hand enveloping hers was as warm and dry as always. She remembered the exact placements of every callus on it.