A rib was broken, yet he spoke of it as if it were as light as a broken piece of skin on his chest.
The doctor, accustomed to life and death, thought he had heard wrongly for a moment.
Looking up to see that he wasn't joking, the doctor stood up and said, "Take off your clothes, let me examine you."
Chiyin took off his coat, his defined fingers unbuttoning his shirt one by one, revealing a large expanse of cold, pale skin on his chest.
The doctor furrowed his brow, pulling his shirt apart to see several bruised marks on his chest, his frown deepening.
"This is reckless!" the doctor scolded.
He should have spoken up earlier with so many external injuries on his body.
Yet he had remained silent all this time.
Thinking of this, the doctor couldn't help but steal a glance at Chiyin, noticing his pale face but unchanged, composed expression, and he was inwardly astonished.
Every day in the hospital, he dealt with patients who screamed all day unable to bear the pain.
