Lin came back to the infirmary annex before noon with her score sheet in one hand and a swollen wrist tucked against her side. The wrap Qinghe had applied that morning was still neat, but the joint had puffed beneath it.
Qinghe set the paper aside. “What happened?”
“I went to the practice court.”
“After I told you to rest?”
“I only tried the route once.”
“And the wrist?”
“It started aching at the third turn.”
Yan took the tray from her before she could set it on the table. “You tried to carry the full load?”
