Jiang Huaixiao heard every last word of the two young nurses' conversation.
With a cold expression, he turned and looked inside through the narrow strip of glass at the top of the door.
Sure enough, Jiang Xun was clutching a marker he had gotten from who knew where, bent over the cast that covered Shen Wangjing's left leg from knee to ankle, drawing furiously.
After adding the final stroke, he straightened up to admire his masterpiece.
The cast was densely covered in little cats-some lying down, some stretching, some showing their bellies, each ugly in its own bizarre, distinctive way.
"All twelve collected." Jiang Xun tipped his face up and raised an eyebrow at Shen Wangjing. "Now we can summon the divine dragon. Hurry up and make a wish. Miss this chance, and you won't get another."
Looking at the two bright dimples on his face, Shen Wangjing's Adam's apple bobbed.
"Anything I want?"
"Of course. The divine dragon can do anything!"
Shen Wangjing was silent for two seconds, his gaze shifting from Jiang Xun's face to the gauze wrapped around his right wrist.
"Then let me see your wrist."
The smile froze on Jiang Xun's face. He hid his wrist behind his back and glared fiercely at him. "Do you not understand fucking English? I told you to make a wish, not worry about my wrist!"
Shen Wangjing said nothing, merely gazing at him quietly.
His gaze had always carried weight. Jiang Xun grew unnerved under it, pulled his hand out from behind his back, and lowered his head to pick at a hangnail, muttering, "It's really nothing. I was just arm-wrestling a police officer at the station yesterday and accidentally sprained it a little."
Shen Wangjing's brows furrowed. "A police officer?"
"Oh, it was nothing, nothing. Stop asking."