When Song Qingchun was about two meters away from the dining room, the sound of the exhaust fan stopped, and Su Zhinian walked out of the kitchen with a plate in his hands.
He placed the plate on the table before he noticed her standing at the door. He glanced at her coldly before adding indifferently, "Have your breakfast."
Then, he pulled out his usual seat and sat down. Song Qingchun nodded wordlessly. Her heart was inexplicably nervous. The hands by her side clenched into fists, and she started walking toward him.
There were two staircase steps separating the living room and dining room. When Song Qingchun put her feet on the first step, she sucked in a breath surreptitiously. With a grit of her teeth, she closed her eyes, and her feet slipped from the edge of the second step. Even though Song Qingchun was already mentally prepared, when she toppled onto the floor, the pain still managed her wheezed out in shock.
Her first reaction was not to check her injury but to watch out of the corner of her eyes to follow the movement of Su Zhinian sitting at the dining room table. She could see the man who was moving a bite of food toward his mouth suddenly stop. He dropped the plate and spoon onto the table, ignoring the scalding on his skin, kicked the chair out from behind him, and dashed to her side.
Along the way, he even knocked into a chair, but he did not seem to notice that. He merely raised his leg to kick the chair aside before he squatted down before her.
"Are you injured?"
His tone sounded airy, but Song Qingchun, who had been paying close attention to him, could still pick out the undertone of nervousness and concern.
Song Qingchun did not say a word but continued to study Su Zhinian. Su Zhinian assumed that the girl was stunned from the pain, so he pulled her up in his arms, brought her down the steps into the living room, and placed her on the sofa.
He squatted down to her level and started inspecting her body. When he saw the bruise on her leg, his brows frowned deeply. He said softly, "Wait for me."
Then he stood up and raced upstairs. He soon returned with a medical box in his hands.
Su Zhinian knelt down on one knee before her and flipped the box open. He picked out the bottle of alcohol disinfectant and told her, "This might be painful," as he dressed her wound.
Song Qingchun shivered from pain, and seconds later, she could sense the pressure on her wound decreasing. The wound was not serious, and after disinfecting it, Su Zhinian grabbed a few plasters and pasted them over her wound.
Song Qingchun lowered her gaze to look at Su Zhinian in his complete focus, and her heart started to rock with emotions.
This was not the first time he had shown such concern toward her, but previously, she had been too caught up in her own drama to notice the changes in his facial expression.
This time, she faked the injury to examine his reaction, so throughout the whole process, her eyes had been glued to his face like she was afraid she might miss the smallest of emotions.