"Zhan Xiaohan, how are you?"
Jiang Ruan lifted her gaze, eyes filled with urgency, "Let go of me, and I'll look at your wound."
"Does it hurt?"
Zhan Xiaohan's forehead was covered in cold sweat, yet he still had the mood to joke, "If I died, would you throw a celebration party with your Ou Country mercenary group boyfriend to celebrate?"
"Shut up!" Jiang Ruan carefully helped him sit down, her gaze pausing momentarily.
Zhan Xiaohan's back was drenched in blood. The powder had burned through his hand-tailored suit and scorched large patches of skin on his back—it looked painfully deep to the bone!
Jiang Ruan immediately became somewhat panicked as she rummaged through her bag for medicine, the more anxious she became, the harder it was to find, "Damn it... where is it?"
Zhan Xiaohan propped himself up with his hand on the ground, looking at her frantic figure dripping with sweat, and spoke slowly, "Take your time, no rush, I won't die that quickly."