"Xiao Qing, how are you feeling?" Song Yun asked with concern.
"I'm alright." Xiao Qing nodded with a smile, quickly moving her gaze away when meeting Song Yun's eyes.
"Does it hurt?"
"No, it doesn't hurt."
"Is it itchy?"
"No, it's not itchy."
"Is there anything uncomfortable?"
Xiao Qing smiled faintly. "No."
"Old man, is it all done like this?" Song Yun, still worried, turned to ask the old man who was washing surgical knives in a basin.
"It's done." The old man replied without turning his head.
"Is it all finished? Could there be any side effects?" Song Yun asked worriedly.
Song Yun couldn't help but worry. Although he trusted this eccentric old man the most, witnessing the treatment process made him more anxious. The whole process was very short; Song Yun even checked the time on his phone, and it only took nineteen minutes. Removing the gauze, using the knife, then applying a bowl full of black paste with a wooden piece he had sharpened to Xiao Qing's face.
