Tong Sanlang carefully rolled up the sleeve of Qiao Xiaomai's arm, washed the wound with the Spiritual Spring water, and then applied his saliva to the wound.
The wound was about a finger long, thin, and continuously seeping with threads of blood.
According to past experiences, once saliva was applied to the wound, it would scab over in a short time.
Both of them stared at the thin bloody slit, without blinking.
After a moment, Tong Sanlang spoke, "It's not healing."
"It must be because there's not enough saliva. Spit out some more." Qiao Xiaomai extended her hand again.
Tong Sanlang did as she suggested, and spat on it again.
Still, it had no effect.
"There must not be enough. Try again," Qiao Xiaomai extended her hand once more.
A moment later, the wound continued to bleed.
Tong Sanlang broke the silence before Qiao Xiaomai could, his tone was serious. "This isn't about there not being enough saliva, you're genuinely infected with the virus. The saliva... is useless."