"Go and get a small bucket for Reporter Xu."
An Yiqing kindly instructed Xing Bin's assistant to retrieve a small red bucket and place it under the coffee table. The blood on Xu Hua's calf was increasing, slowly gathering from the cracks into a thin stream, trickling over the coffee table and dripping into the bucket.
All the reporters present, including the audience in front of the television, held their breath in anticipation.
However, what was surprising was that despite the blood on Xu Hua's calf, the translucent white ointment remained completely unstained by the red.
At this moment, Xu Hua's face had turned pale from pain. He took the wet towel handed to him by An Yiqing and wiped the sweat from his face, but the pain in his leg continued.
"Reporter Xu, how are you feeling now?" a reporter from the audience asked cautiously.
Xu Hua took a shallow breath, his voice trembling slightly.
