109: Chapter 109 I just...had a dream

This could hardly be considered a living person's body.

The fabric and the scabs on the wounds were tightly stuck together.

Lin Fan didn't hesitate at all; he picked up the dagger and cut directly along the edge of the fabric.

The tattered cloth was peeled away.

Lin Fan's hand stopped in mid-air.

The scars were shocking to the eye.

On her fair skin, not a single patch of good flesh the size of a palm could be found.

Writing up to here, I hope readers remember our domain name w-k-n.com, super thoughtful.

At her neck and wrists were deep purple bruises repeatedly choked out by coarse hemp ropes, and the skin and flesh at the edges were already damaged and festering, oozing yellowish fluid.

Her flat abdomen and ribcage were densely covered with footprints kicked by an adult man wearing hard-soled leather shoes, bruised and red, and even two ribs showed unnatural depressions.

The most tragic parts were her legs and feet.

Being forcibly dragged across the sandy ground and reefs full of barnacles, the skin and flesh on her knees were completely ground away, revealing the whitish fascia and muddy fat layer inside.

The toenail of her right big toe was snapped from the middle, with more than half of the nail turned outward and still oozing blood.

Down below, that group of well-educated workplace elites, in exchange for a bite to eat, treated her like a piece of dead meat without pain, pulling and dragging her forcefully on the scorching hot stones.

Lin Fan unscrewed the alcohol bottle cap.

"Endure it a bit."

Without caring whether Song Ya could hear him or not, he poured half a bottle of alcohol directly onto the gauze and pressed it forcefully onto the wound on her knee.

"Ugh…"

The stinging sensation of high-concentration alcohol piercing into the damaged skin and flesh far exceeded the limits of ordinary human endurance.

Song Ya's body arched upward abruptly, her hands clutching tightly onto the moisture-proof mat beneath her.

A gasp burst from her throat, and large beads of cold sweat instantly broke out on her forehead.

Lin Fan didn't stop. He wiped away the mud and sand embedded in the rotting flesh, disinfected a large area, and moved on to the next spot.

The severe pain forcibly tore through the barrier of unconsciousness, and Song Ya woke up.

Her swollen eyelids struggled to pry open a slit.

In the halo of light, she clearly saw the man who was treating the rope marks on her wrists.

Lin Fan's profile was tightly taut, his jawline as sharp as if carved by a knife, with not the slightest emotional fluctuation in the depths of his eyes.

"Lin Fan…"

Song Ya's voice was no louder than a mosquito's, hoarse and leaky.

Lin Fan didn't raise his head, wrapping her wrists with clean gauze and tying a dead knot.

"Don't talk, save your strength to breathe."

Song Ya didn't listen; she stared blankly at the protruding rocks on the ceiling of the cave, a tear sliding down the corner of her eye, mixing with the mud on her face and falling into her messy hair.

"I… had a dream."

Lin Fan's hand holding the dagger paused for a moment, then continued to cut off a section of gauze.

"I dreamed it was snowing."

Song Ya said to herself, "It was so cold. Four people blocked me, robbed me of my money, and tore my clothes. Someone walked past the entrance of the alley, but nobody cared about me."

Lin Fan tossed the knife aside.

"Later, a big boy rushed in."

Song Ya twitched the corner of her mouth, pulling on the torn wound and sucking in a cold breath of pain, but she was still smiling.

"He was wearing a faded single-layer shirt, gripping half a red brick tightly in his hand."

"He fought like his life depended on it, was pinned down in the snow and kicked, his head covered in blood. But he didn't let go, smashing the bridge of the ringleader's nose with a single brick and driving them all away."

There was only the faint sound of wind in the compartment.

Lin Fan picked up the alcohol cotton ball and wiped the blood stains on Song Ya's cheek.

The cotton ball pressed against the wound, and his hand was very steady, steady without a trace of tremor.

Song Ya stared at the cave ceiling, her tears flowing silently.

"Later I found out that older brother was three years older than me and lived in the building next to mine."

Lin Fan wrapped her right foot's everted toenail with gauze, his hands not stopping their movement.

"Ever since then, I…"

Song Ya bit her lip, tugging at the split at the corner of her mouth and frowning in pain, but she didn't care, "I always secretly paid attention to him, taking a detour to and from school just to pass under their building."

"And starting from then, I've always liked him…"

Lin Fan's bandaging hand paused for a moment, very briefly, so briefly that Song Ya didn't even notice.

Then he continued to wrap the gauze, pull it tight, and tie a knot.

The compartment fell silent for a few seconds.

Outside, the campfire was burning fiercely, and the sound of grease dripping onto the charcoal embers drifted in one beat after another.

Lin Fan rolled up the remaining gauze, stuffed it back into the first-aid kit, and zipped it up.

He didn't pick up on that topic.

It wasn't that he didn't know how to respond; it was that there was no need to respond.

On a Deserted Island, the two words "like" cannot turn into fresh water, food, or weapons.

Whether the wounds on the woman in front of him were infected, whether she could survive tonight, and whether she would have a high fever and convulsions tomorrow—those were the real, life-threatening matters.

Romance and love?

Let's talk about it after surviving and getting settled first.

Lin Fan stood up, rummaged out a set of clothes from the bottom layer of the supply box, and placed them beside Song Ya.

"Put them on."

Song Ya lowered her head and glanced at her own body, which was already completely naked.

A faint blush appeared on her face, but it was quickly masked by pain and weakness.

She tried to prop up her body, her arms shaking violently, and after propping herself up twice, she collapsed back down.

Lin Fan had no intention of helping; he turned around, facing the exit of the compartment with his back to her.

"Take your time, no rush."

Gritting her teeth, Song Ya took nearly five minutes to slip into the quick-dry shirt.

The pants were even more difficult. The newly wrapped gauze on her knees touched the fabric of the pant legs, causing a burning, stinging pain.

She pulled the pants halfway up, but truly had no strength left, and collapsed sideways onto the mat, panting heavily.

"Are you done?"

"...Almost."

Lin Fan turned around and took a look.

The waistband was still piled at the root of her thighs.

He stepped forward, grabbed both sides of the waistband, and pulled it up. Although the movement was fast, it wasn't rough.

The clothes were two sizes too big, hanging loosely on her body like she was wearing a burlap sack.

But at least they covered those shocking scars.

Lin Fan squatted down and checked every bandaged spot.

The fixing tape pasted on her knees, wrists, toes, and ribs.

Over half a bottle of alcohol was used, and a third of the gauze was consumed; there were no replenishment channels for these items.

If the wounds subsequently became inflamed and festered without antibiotics, alcohol disinfection alone wouldn't suppress it.

Whether she could live was a three-seven split.

Thirty percent depended on her own physical foundation, and seventy percent depended on luck.

"You sleep for a while first."

Lin Fan stood up.

"Wait a moment."

Song Ya called out to him again.

Lin Fan paused at the exit of the compartment without looking back.