Zhao Xun took out some gauze and medicinal powder, then motioned for Wang Ling'er to roll up her sleeve.
Wang Ling'er wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and obediently rolled up her sleeve.
Zhao Xun quickly applied the medicine and bandaged her arm before telling her, "I'd already dealt with all the trouble before you showed up, Wang Ling'er."
"Oh." Wang Ling'er's voice was quiet, and she sounded deeply dejected.
"There's nothing wrong with wanting to help people when it's something you can handle," Zhao Xun told Wang Ling'er as he packed up the first-aid kit. "But when something is beyond your abilities, not only will you fail to help, you might get yourself caught up in it or make things worse."
"I understand." Wang Ling'er lowered her head, looking every bit like someone obediently accepting a scolding.
Zhao Xun watched Wang Ling'er for a long time without saying another word.
The Wang Ling'er before him was considerably older than the one in his memories.
But her personality hadn't changed, nor had her habit of meddling. It all too easily brought back memories of his real past.
He had lived in the orphanage for as long as he could remember.
Its director was Wang Dongliang.
Wang Dongliang hadn't established the orphanage to help abandoned children. He had done it for donations from generous people and to satisfy his own selfish desires.
He also had violent tendencies. Whenever he was in a bad mood, he used the children as punching bags.
When Zhao Xun was four, Liao Ming entered the orphanage.
Already fourteen, Liao Ming had lost both parents, and none of his relatives were willing to raise a half-grown child. They felt a child that age would never truly become attached to them, so he had no