"The wound has been treated. Don't let it get wet."

"Clean medicine I hit, spring, the efficacy of medicine is fading, a good rest will be all right."

He Yisheng cleaned it up, wrapped the needle and threw it into the trash can with the syringe.

Clean up the medicine cabinet and look sideways at the Hawthorne leaning against the window.

In the obscure light, the man's index finger was holding a cigarette, and the curling smoke blurred his face, making it difficult to see his facial expression.

The light smoke is filled with the pervasive erotic taste of the room, like poppies, full of fatal allure.

He Yisheng saw...