Wei Anning walked in, placed the medicine box on the stool in front of the bed, found povidone-iodine and Yunnan Baiyao, and began to disinfect his wound with a cotton swab. The scar was quite ferocious, and as she felt a pang of distress, she asked, "Who on earth wanted to kill you?"
Clamping his teeth tightly, Leng Youchen looked up at his wife, whose lips were pressed tightly together, and recalled how those men had suddenly rushed out, brandishing knives and aiming for his body as if to force him to stand up from his wheelchair.
"I'm fine; I won't make you a widow."
Wei Anning looked up and glared at him, then collided with his soft gaze. She quickly averted her eyes, her heartbeat in disarray. "Who's talking about that? With such a severe injury, why didn't you go to the hospital?"
