His upper body looked pretty normal, but he didn’t even have shoes on his lower body, which was smeared with mud. Even though the hems of his trousers were rolled up, they were still filthy.
Seeing Shu Wan, Fu Yang’s eyes flickered slightly as if he wanted to say something, but ultimately he remained silent and walked into the house.
Soon, the sound of running water was heard from inside the house.
Not long after, Fu Yang emerged, dressed in a fresh set of clothes. He wiped his hair and glanced at Shu Wan, who was still sitting in the courtyard. "How did it go on your end?"
Shu Wan spoke, her gaze still fixed on the flowers in the courtyard.
"Oh." Fu Yang answered emotionlessly and didn’t say anything more.
Normally, Fu Yang would have definitely thrown in a couple of mocking comments. His silence now, however, caused Shu Wan to turn her head and look at him.
That glance drew Shu Wan’s attention to Fu Yang’s lower leg, which seemed to have been scratched by stones in the field.
Shu Wan went upstairs to fetch a medical kit and then sat beside Fu Yang. "Roll up your trouser leg a bit."
Fu Yang, who hadn’t realized he was injured until now, furrowed his brow unconsciously. "What for?"
Shu Wan pointed to the injury on Fu Yang’s lower leg, and only then did he notice the wound.
The cut was filled with sludge after being soaked in the mud, looking black on the inside and red and swollen on the outside due to inflammation.
"I didn’t feel it at all," Fu Yang said, rolling up his trouser leg a little.
"I need to clean it for you, just bear with it."
Shu Wan said, picking at the wound with a cotton swab to clean out all the flesh blackened by the mud.
Fu Yang clenched his hand tight from the pain.
When Shu Wan had picked out all the contaminated flesh and rinsed the wound with soapy water.
Fu Yang often acted fearless in his usual ways, but in truth, he was a pampered Young Master who had rarely suffered hardships from childhood.
Gradually, his eyes reddened. "Why isn’t it better yet?"
"It needs to be rinsed for fifteen minutes." Shu Wan explained as she continued rinsing, "The wound needs to be disinfected first; otherwise, it’ll get more painful if it becomes inflamed."
Fu Yang endured the pain, but tears of a physiological nature still seeped out from the corners of his eyes.
With his inherently delicate features, set against a backdrop of silver hair and fair skin, even the slightest redness at the corners of his eyes was starkly conspicuous.
[Wow, I feel so twisted. I really love seeing the Young Master cry, haha, the Young Master is shedding golden beans.]
[To the one before, count me in as a pervert too. I love to see it; turns out the Young Master can feel pain too. I thought he was immune.]
[I have so many cheeky comments I want to say, but thinking that Fu Yang is still a minor, I can only hold them back, but I know, my sisters definitely understand me!!!!]
Fifteen minutes later, Shu Wan finally finished disinfecting the wound, applied some ointment to Fu Yang’s cut, and began to bandage it.
"It won’t hurt now; try walking on it."
Fu Yang stood up, half skeptical, only to find that it was true.
Most people would think that after having the rotten flesh on their wounds scraped and the cut frantically washed out with soapy water, it would be extremely painful.
But in fact, the opposite was true: having cleaned out the contaminated flesh and properly disinfected it, Fu Yang walked as usual, unaffected.
"How did the rice planting go?"
As Shu Wan was putting things away, she casually asked Fu Yang.
Fu Yang turned his head to look at Shu Wan, who was folding up the half-used gauze with her eyes lowered.
The sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting a mottled glimmer in her hair.
She was as aloof as an eternal glacier atop the mountains, yet even a glacier thaws into spring water, delicately and densely nurturing everything it touches.
Fu Yang’s gaze paused, and before his reason could catch up, emotion drove him to say, "I think I caused some trouble."
"I don’t know how to plant rice, and I wasted someone’s seedlings." As Fu Yang spoke, he lowered his gaze slightly, betraying a touch of unspoken grievance and melancholy.
In fact, he had already returned once earlier, but after realizing that he had dropped his earphones by the field, he went back.
That’s when he saw an old man, white-haired and in his seventies or eighties, struggling beside the field and sighing, "Oh, my seedlings, such a pity... If you can’t do it, just return them. Now they’re all gone."