“Are you ready? If so, we shall proceed with the operation.”
Chang’s face was fully exposed under the shadowless lamp, his wounds and dried blood unconcealed from Qing Shui.
“I am.”
Chang nodded.
An anesthetic mask hovered over Chang’s face, then the light overhead started to grow fainter, and eventually the darkness became absolute.
The operation was a success. One month later, the bandage was removed from Chang’s face, and it was exactly the same as before thanks to Qing Shui’s technique.
“Chang, Qing Shui is good at this, isn’t he?”
For some reason, Jing had stopped calling Qing Shui as Mr. Li and started using his first name.
Yet Chang was reluctant to correct her.
“I always knew he was good at this, but I do find it difficult to make expressions.”
The person in the mirror attempted to make a smile, but failed.
“Well, you insisted on using the metal bones, I’m pretty sure it would have been better to implant the synthetic ones,” Jing said, jumping on his back.