Mason Nightshade handed over the medical kit and dragged a chair over, sitting down by the bed.
Aurelia Shaw opened the medical kit, found what she needed inside, and turned her head to see Mason wearing nothing but a pair of bullet-patterned boxer shorts, sitting there boldly, muscles tense and lines sexy and perfect.
This man truly has no shame.
Aurelia averted her gaze, tossed a pajama over, and continued fiddling with the contents of the medical kit, coldly saying, "Put on some clothes."
Having been hit by her toss before, Mason wasn’t going to fall for it this time. He tilted his head to dodge the flying pajamas, which landed stably on his lap. He grabbed it and threw it back, only uttering two bold words: "Not wearing!"
The pajamas landed right on Aurelia’s head, three black lines dropped from the back of her head as she gritted her teeth in anger, grabbed the pajamas off, and glared at Mason, "If you’re not going to wear it, then just leave your arm as it is!"
Hearing this, Mason looked at Aurelia like a wounded little cub with pitiful eyes, "Dear, can you really bear it?"
Aurelia ignored him, grabbed her laptop, and continued streaming her show.
The irritating voice droned on like a buzzing fly, and Aurelia really wanted to cover her ears. Damn! Mason’s personality seems wrong! Could she have been reborn in a parallel universe? Could this not be the world she lived in? Is there another ’Aurelia Shaw’ who was abandoned and died with resentment? There’s no way this clingy guy could have been her husband in a past life!
Aurelia really didn’t want to accept this embarrassing truth.
"Dear, I got this injury saving you, you need to take responsibility for me," Mason said in a soft voice.
"Take responsibility, my foot!"
"You don’t have to take responsibility for the foot, just for me," Mason grinned mischievously.
Aurelia turned her head, glared at him, and confidently said three words: "I’m! Not! Paying!"
"..." This time, Mason was at a loss for words. Even faced with tricky negotiators, he hadn’t been this speechless before, "Is it really unacceptable not to wear clothes?"
"Unacceptable!" Aurelia threw two words at him.
Mason had a long mental struggle on the side, and finally clung to a sliver of hope, asking, "But how do I apply medicine with sleeves on the clothes?"
A few minutes later, Mason looked at his pajamas with one sleeve cut off by a certain woman, and three black lines dropped on his head, "..."
There’s no denying that some people have a natural appearance and charisma, even if they wear clothes with one sleeve cut off by someone else’s hand, they still look stylish. If an ordinary man wore it, he’d look down-and-out, but Mason—sitting there, still bold and with a stern face, looked like a male model.
"If you want to laugh, just laugh, no need to hold back," Mason, glimpsing her slightly upturned lips, said in a deep voice, suppressing his anger.
Aurelia didn’t respond, kept her eyes low, holding tweezers, dabbing a cotton ball on the menacing wound. The wound hadn’t healed at all, looking much like it did when she applied medicine yesterday, with protruding flesh visible. Fortunately, Dovina was a woman and didn’t use much force; otherwise, a sharp knife like that slashing down on the thin summer clothes could easily have gone down to the bone.
"Why did you block that stab for me back then?" Aurelia couldn’t help but blurt out, without even realizing it herself, but she wasn’t flustered once it was said.