Han Qiao was shocked and quickly pulled him into her arms.
She looked at his hand carefully.
The skin on his palm was torn, and he had bled a little, but not a lot.
Only then did she heave a sigh of relief.
"Go get some water and ointment."
Small children had to be careful when they were sick or injured. After all, their body's immune system was not yet well developed.
Han Qiao personally cleaned He Cheng's wound. He was in so much pain that he gasped. Tears hung in the corners of his eyes, but he had stopped crying.
Han Qiao gently blew on his palm and sprinkled a little powder on him.
"Mother, it hurts." He Cheng whispered softly. His childish voice was breaking her heart.
Han Qiao held him in her arms and asked Shulan to bandage He Cheng.
He Cheng whispered to Han Qiao, "Mother, what is a 'little bastard'?"
"What?" For a moment Han Qiao thought she had misheard him.