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The man was fair-skinned, with a round face and a rounded nose. He Lingchuan recognized him at once. It was none other than the battlefield medic A’Luo.
A’Luo shot Hu Min a glare. “Buying herbs. Don’t block my way!” Can’t you see I’m busy?
“I brought Brother He to you. He needs a prescription for imperial nectar!”
A’Luo turned to He Lingchuan, blinking in puzzlement, clearly not recognizing him. Not everyone carried the protagonist’s glow that made them unforgettable at a glance.
Hu Min coughed. “Remember the Gorge battle? He broke an arm, and I broke a leg. You wrapped us both up like rice dumplings. Ring any bells?”
A long “Ohhh” escaped A’Luo’s lips. “So that was you!” He seized He Lingchuan’s arm, pressing lightly with his fingers, then nodded in satisfaction. “Good constitution, he’s healed even better than you.”
That did not sound right to He Lingchuan. A broken arm was no minor thing; “a hundred days to heal bones,” as the saying went. Even with spirit medicines, a full recovery in a month was nearly impossible. Hu Min, who was clearly still limping, was living proof of this.
His own quick recovery was only because he lived outside this dream. Every time he left, the injuries vanished with it.
A’Luo, despite his medical...
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