To his own wounds, Lin Huai Zhou offered only a fleeting phrase as an explanation.
He said, "Took a trip to the Northwest."
He didn't mention that five of his squadmates were seriously injured, three were slightly injured, and two were carried home in their arms.
Nor did he say that he took the lead; shrapnel splattered on his face, nearly penetrating his eye by just a centimeter.
He kept all these to himself, suppressing the grief in his heart, afraid of frightening Lin Nianhe, scared that it might make her sick.
He smiled, extending his relatively less-injured right hand to Lin Nianhe, "Come here, let me take a look at you."
Lin Nianhe walked over, took off her military coat, sat down, tried to support him, but as she reached out her hand, she didn't know where to touch, feeling that touching him anywhere would hurt him.
Seeing Lin Nianhe panic, Lin Huai Zhou unbotheredly smiled, "It looks scary, but there are no mortal wounds. I'll be better before the New Year."
