Qinghe examined Du at the entrance infirmary point. She asked him to keep his arm close and held his wrist while Wei steadied his shoulder.
“Tell me when the pain changes,” she said.
Du bit down on a leather strap. “It already changed.”
Qinghe adjusted her grip and reset the shoulder with one firm motion. Du cursed the examination so loudly that Luo apologized from the doorway.
“That’s better,” Qinghe said. “Don’t lift with that arm.”
Du spat the strap into his hand. “I’m going to write a complaint with the other one.”
Lin sat on the bench beside him. Qinghe checked her channels with a light palm near the shoulder and asked her not to move until the ache settled. The pressure lines had bruised her channels, but she could breathe normally.
The bruise had spread beneath his shirt. When he lifted his left arm, he felt a sharp tug over the lower ribs and lowered it again.
