Chapter 20: Applying Medicine

Inside the room, after wiping himself down, Song Tiancheng felt considerably more comfortable and, for the first time in a while, a trace of drowsiness crept over him. He slowly lay down, intending to rest for a moment. Just as he was drifting off, a cry of pain came from outside.

Immediately after, Huanya’s anxious voice followed.

Song Tiancheng’s heart tightened; as he tried to rise, he heard his mother’s voice and realized she was merely tired, which only deepened his unease.

Soon, another anguished wail pierced the air from outside. Song Tiancheng wanted to rush out but found his legs utterly immobile.

He knew his mother was not seriously hurt, yet the anxiety gnawed at him relentlessly. If he forced himself to move, the wound bandaged just yesterday might tear open again.

Inevitably, his mind wandered to darker thoughts: if she was fine now, what if next time she wasn’t? What if his mother ever truly needed him, and he could only lie helplessly in bed?

He dared not imagine such a scene.

At that moment, his yearning for his legs to heal was overwhelming.

In the courtyard, after some kneading, the sound of his mother’s cries gradually softened into sighs of relief, and soon she was instructing the maid to massage other areas.

“Right on the shoulder, yes, that’s the spot! Ah, that feels good, so good!”

With a sigh, his mother exclaimed, “My old back hasn’t felt this relaxed in ages! Girl, you’ve got skill!”

Seeing his mother give a thumbs-up, Huanya chuckled and pressed down harder, instantly twisting his mother’s expression into one of sharp pain.

After a while longer, Song’s mother moved her previously sore body, visibly more at ease.

“I’m definitely going to sleep well tonight,” she smiled. Spotting Huanya’s face, she suddenly remembered something she’d completely forgotten.

“Girl, hurry and bring that ointment. I’ll apply it for you, quickly.”

“No need, Auntie. I can do it myself later.”

“Don’t argue; just go, quickly!”

Pressed by his mother’s insistence, Huanya reluctantly went inside to fetch the ointment.

Song’s mother had already washed her hands and waited. When Huanya returned, she beckoned with a smile, “Come, before it gets dark, let’s apply the medicine.”

Huanya blinked shyly and handed over the ointment.

Song’s mother glanced at the ointment, then carefully removed the bandage wrapped around Huanya’s face. Seeing the wound, nearly a finger’s length and almost reaching the eye, her eyes filled with pity.

“How did you get this? Was it that scoundrel from the town?”

Catching her mother’s concerned gaze, Huanya’s nose tingled, and tears threatened to fall.

Since her mother’s passing, no one had looked at her with such care.

She sniffled and forced a smile, “No, I hurt myself accidentally. The manager even found some medicine for me.”

“Sure you did,” Song’s mother replied, fully aware of the girl’s ordeal.

There was only one scoundrel in town, and she had heard of the ways of the Flower Granny’s establishment.

Girls like Huanya—beautiful and pure—were naturally targeted for those places.

Huanya must have heard some rumors and tried to hurt herself to avoid that fate.

But Song’s mother saw no need to expose it.

Everyone has things they wish to keep hidden.

She applied the ointment on the wound. “Don’t cover it just yet—let the ointment dry first.”

Her mother frowned. “After a full day’s work, it’s all sweaty and damp.”

The exposed flesh had turned pale; if left covered longer, infection seemed inevitable.

“It doesn’t hurt!” Huanya protested.

As the ointment touched the raw skin, tears welled up in her eyes. She looked at Song’s mother with a pitiful gaze that was almost heart-wrenching.