No matter how open-minded Yelü Nanxian was, she was still a woman. How could she endure such teasing? Her pretty face instantly flushed red as she shot him an icy, reproachful glare. "You—"
"All right, all right," Song Qingshu said with a smile. "Don't move. It'll be done soon." With that, he hurriedly composed himself and continued evaporating the medicinal essence.
Yelü Nanxian gave a soft hum and turned her head away, not daring to look at him. For once, she revealed the manner of a shy young girl.
After another quarter of an hour, Song Qingshu finally forced all the medicinal power of the Buddha Seat Little Red Lotus into her wound before dressing it for her.
When Song Qingshu's fingertips accidentally brushed her skin, Yelü Nanxian shuddered and said somewhat awkwardly, "I'll do it myself."
Song Qingshu shook his head, his tone leaving no room for argument. "How can you manage that yourself? If too much movement tears the wound open, that'll only make things worse."
"Er, all right." Yelü Nanxian hesitated for a moment before finally nodding.
To ease her nerves, Song Qingshu smiled as he dressed her wound. "I never expected that after spending all day out on the grasslands in the wind and sun, your skin would still be so smooth and delicate."
Yelü Nanxian's face reddened slightly. Still, she was more uninhibited than most Han Chinese women. Lifting her chin, she gave a snort. "I was born beautiful. Got a problem with that?"
Song Qingshu laughed heartily. As he straightened her clothes, he said, "I wonder which man will be lucky enough to become your Imperial Son-in-Law someday. His wife will have both the tall, graceful figure of a grassland woman and the delicate skin of a Han Chinese woman."
Yelü Nanxian flashed him