Sunday.
Zhang Ye woke up in the morning.
He was awoken by the pain. Even before he could open his eyes, he was already groaning in pain. When he opened his eyes, he saw Rao Aimin dressing his wound.
"Don't move!" Rao Aimin said.
Zhang Ye shouted, "Let go! Painful, painful, painful!"
Rao Aimin thundered, "Keep still! It's almost done!"
Chenchen also woke up, and she was hur hur-ing at him in bed. Even a child looked down on him.
Zhang Ye didn't care; he cherished life and was afraid of pain. He could only focus on himself now, "Lightly, lightly! The pain's killing me! Ah, ah! I'm gonna die!"
Finally, Rao Aimin gave him a pat, "Alright, it's done."
Zhang Ye fell back onto the bed, sweating, "I can't move anymore. I'm gonna die!"
Rao Aimin patted hard on his thigh, "Don't play dumb with me. The wound has already started to close up. As long as you don't move heavy stuff, it will be fine. Hurry up and get up!"
