In the village chief's hall.
The group sat in a circle around the central stove, warming themselves by the fire.
He Yu sat beside Zhang Xiaohou and carefully examined his exposed skin. From head to toe, nearly every inch bore several alarming scars.
Worst was the bowl-wide wound stretching from the back of his head onto his face. It had scabbed over, but inflamed red flesh was still visible beneath the crust.
A sharp ache spread through He Yu's heart. She couldn't help reaching out to touch it.
Zhang Xiaohou sensed her hand and shrank back.
"Don't move." He Yu's gaze hardened, leaving no room for argument.
Zhang Xiaohou still looked lost, but he followed his instincts and didn't dodge her hand again.
When her thumb touched the hard scab, its roughness made her heart ache even more.
"I'm sorry," He Yu whispered.
Zhang Xiaohou was even more confused, but when he saw that she was on the verge of tears, he instinctively raised a hand to wipe them away.
"D-don't cry," Zhang Xiaohou stammered.
Having been force-fed this public display of affection, Zhou Sining decided it was time to change the subject.
He looked toward Su Xiaoluo, who seemed a little downcast. "Did my friend injure his brain?"
"You don't need to call me a doctor. I only know a little," Su Xiaoluo said, coming back to herself. "When I found him, he was wounded all over. It took more than half a month of care before he woke up, and he's only been able to walk for the past two days."
"Fu Da probably lost his memory because of his severe injuries, or perhaps from the shock. Since you're his friends, you should take him back to the city for better treatment as soon as possible."
"Could these