The bullet was lodged deep, almost exposing his stark white bone.
Because Ye Cheng refused anesthesia, Zimei held her breath the entire time, watching him furrow his eyebrows in pain, his forehead drenched in sweat yet not uttering a single sound. Her heart felt as if it were in her throat.
After a grueling hour or so, Ye Cheng's wound was finally treated without any major issues.
The elderly doctor had also been operating on tenterhooks throughout the procedure. After wrapping the gauze carefully, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and spoke in Japanese, "This is the first time in my life I've performed surgery under such limited conditions. But this young man's willpower is truly astonishing."
Ye Cheng leaned back against something, his eyes half-lidded, lips drained of color. Beads of sweat slid along the defined contours of his bare upper body, inexplicably exuding an alluring sensuality.
