After Bai Yueguang's stand-in is passive and slow to work

Zhiyu opened his eyes with difficulty, and was looking at him without blinking.

"What did you just say?" He walked to the sofa and asked softly.

"It hurts..." Jiang Zhiyu's misty eyes were still locked on him.

"Where does it hurt? The head or the chest?" Shen Heng squatted down beside him, looking at those deep dark eyes.

"Back, back, hurts." Jiang Zhiyu's voice was low and trembling.

Shen Heng frowned suspiciously: "Back?" He put his arms around Jiang Zhiyu's neck and lifted him up halfway, and when he took off his coat, he heard Jiang Zhiyu groan.

He turned his head to look, and froze in fright at the large swathes of bright red blood stains that were smudged and melted on the beige sweater.