Xiajun Zihao held Xie Yan 'er's hand and gently applied ointment on her scalded hand.
His movements were very gentle. His fingers were long and slender like jade, and the joints were very beautiful.
He had a pair of beautiful piano-playing hands, but at this moment, he was gently wiping her burns.
Just like when she was young, she was mischievous and playful. She would always fall and bump into things. Every time, he would sigh helplessly and then help her wipe her wounds.
Every time, he would always say gently,"Yanyan, you can't be so naughty anymore. Look, you're hurt. It'll hurt."
She always chuckled indifferently."It doesn't hurt, it doesn't hurt."
At that time, xiajun Zihao's young eyes were particularly charming. His eyes would have a pained glow and he would stroke her hair."Yanyan doesn't hurt, but brother will."
At that time, she only smiled naughtily, so she didn't understand what he meant.
