In the inn, Feng Zhi was treating Chu Yao's wounds with slight disdain.
He was leaning against the bed railing, his face pale, but his thin lips were stained with dark red blood, which only added to his sickly beauty and made others pity him.
"Carrying him for several miles, it's not too much to charge some extra fees later, right?"
Feng Zhi raised her eyebrows, silently calculating in her heart, and said in a low voice, "the nightgown is stained with his blood, I have to pay! Two gold coins!"
"..."
Chu Yao regained his consciousness and could not help but cough lightly when he heard such an exaggerated price.
Feng Zhi narrowed her eyes and turned her head to stare at him.