Miles Shao would have almost forgotten about the ointment if Everett Gu didn't come to him.
He sat on the sofa with his legs bent and faced Everett Gu. He stretched out his hand and said, "I'm not a disabled person. You can wipe it for me."
Everett Gu squeezed a little onto his finger and wiped his cheeks carefully: "Don't move."
Miles Shao didn't struggle anymore. After all, the ointment had a smell that he didn't like very much.
Everett Gu was wearing little clothing, and his fingertips were a little cold. They stuck to his face, making his face even hotter.
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