"Does it hurt?"
Di Jinye's movements were carefully gentle.
Upon hearing this, Cheng Ruowei looked at the palm of her hand and shook her head, saying, "No, it doesn't hurt. The ointment I made is very effective; it's cool and soothing now."
"You shouldn't have let yourself get burned by the smoke."
"It's all because of you. If you had let me treat your wound earlier, I wouldn't have been burned."
The accusation that slipped out of Cheng Ruowei's mouth surprisingly rendered Di Jinye silently complex.
Then, trying to ease the tension from their heated conflict earlier that evening, she added, "Such a small burn will heal in a couple of days, but your wound looks much more serious."
After she had finished applying the plaster to her palm, she casually grabbed Di Jinye's arm and gently rested it on her lap.
"I'll clean it first. You should know that I am actually a Pharmacist, so my technique might not be very good," she said.
"So you're just going to blatantly hurt me?"