Jiao Yang raised his hand towards the shirt that was passed to him, "No need, I can do it myself..."
"Lift your arm!" Leng Zimo's voice turned forceful.
"Do you always boss Xiao Qian around like this?"
Despite his teasing words, Jiao Yang still extended his arm, and Leng Zimo carefully slipped the shirt onto him. Leng Zimo was more muscular than Jiao Yang, so the shirt looked a bit too large on him, but it was just loose enough to avoid pressing too tightly against the burn.
Even though Leng Zimo was very gentle, it was inevitable that the fabric would brush against the burn while buttoning the shirt. Jiao Yang's face tensed with pain, and his right hand, which was resting on the sink, tightened its grip. Leng Zimo helped him put on his suit jacket very lightly, standing behind him, watching in the mirror as his face clearly showed he was enduring the pain.
"Thanks."
Jiao Yang tugged at the corners of his lips, "Let's go!"
