Xingchen frowns at the gashes that he feels in the sleeve of his shirt, but even more at the blood on it that leaves his fingertips damp and stained a red that he can't see. He'll try to mend it for him, but it's placed aside for now so that he can tend to Xue Yang's wounds instead.

"Tell me if I hurt you." He kneels down beside him, wringing the cloth out in the warm water before he starts cleaning the wounds. It feels familiar, taking him back to that night in Yi City when he found him just in time to steal Xue Yang back from a coffin. Does he regret it? Would he have done anything differently if he'd know?

The answer to both is no. He would've done the same all over again. Even if he knew about the coffin that waits for him.

He dips the cloth back in the water, working diligently, lightly dabbing at the wounds so as not to cause too much pain. He's thoughtful too, never one to ask questions, but more and more there are things his heart wants to know. He draws in a breath to ask, but then he can't find the words. Xingchen slides his hand under his wrrist, lifting his arm so that he can start wrapping the clean bandages around it.

"You might be left with scars." And Xingchen will always know that he's the one to blame for them. "You've lost blood. Do you need to lie down?"