The Blessed Beauty Returns with a Dimension

She needed to do a lot of things before she could start working.

First, lift his feet and place a bundle with a pillow under them to prevent him from going into shock.

Then she opened another bundle, took out a wool garment, folded it, and gently wrapped it around his head to prevent him from losing more body heat.

She then pulled the quilt aside and began removing his clothes layer by layer, starting from his feet and working upwards.

Next, she came to his blood-soaked, damp, and icy sweater, trying to wipe away the bloodstains on his chest as much as possible, using a pillow cover she grabbed, as there was no time to be picky in such a critical moment.

She dried him as much as possible and then covered his chest and shoulders with the quilt.

Finally, she lay down beside him, snuggling close beneath the layers of quilts, until she was pressed against him, wrapping an arm around him, and then covered both of their heads with another wool garment to keep their breath warm.

Their breath almost immediately warmed the air, making her face feel warmer, and such comfort, albeit small, was extremely welcome, to the point that she felt relieved enough to cry.

He lay next to her, feeling like ice.

He needed something warm to drink, something sweet to eat, to help him fight against the shock and cold.

Her trembling was lessening, but he wasn't trembling at all, which wasn't a good sign.

However, she could only rest briefly, as she had to find a way to create some sort of shelter for them, at least to block the wind.

For now, the first task in her notebook was to feed Song Moting and suture his wound.

She found an iron pot in the space, sighing at her own wisdom.

This large iron pot was something she had inadvertently seen in the county town and put in, not knowing why at the time.

Now it was coming in handy.

Luckily, she had spring water in her space, so she cooked rice porridge and Jiang Xiaoxiao specifically added some peach slices.

During this time, peaches were the most important.

Not sure why the peach juice wasn't very effective, maybe it would work, she just hadn't felt it yet.

Looking at the steaming pot.

Jiang Xiaoxiao began preparing to suture.

Back to Song Moting, she knelt beside him, thoroughly taking stock of all the medicines she had.

Scissors—this would definitely come in handy.

Lots of gauze, tape, cotton balls and cotton swabs, a tube of antibacterial ointment, alcohol and iodine, sterile cotton balls, painkillers.

And…

There was the suture kit!

Her concern at the moment was whether these items were enough to roughly handle the wound on Song Moting's head.

The conclusion was that they were indeed enough, leaving her no excuse to back out.

Her skills shouldn't have regressed, but there was still a faint sadness, as handling these things again reminded her of many things from her past life.

The first step should be thoroughly cleaning the wound.

Ha!

She didn't even have water to dampen the wound, let alone "thoroughly".

She could only do her best, and fortunately, there were no dirt or debris in the wound.

Firstly, she needed to supplement his body with some sugar and possibly give him some painkillers first.

No anesthesia, but at least it could ease the pain.

She carefully removed the wool garment covering his head.

Even though she knew he looked terrible, she was still almost stunned when she truly faced him.

His entire face was covered with dried blood, and the hollow of his eyes, ears, nostrils, and corners of his mouth had blood even caked up.

Worse, his forehead was swollen, pulling the wound further open.

She hadn't expected the wound would swell—if the wound wasn't treated soon, the swelling might worsen, so there was no time to wait.

"Brother Song,"

she said, nudging him under the layers of blankets.

"Wake up! Show time."

He immediately took a deep breath.

"I'm awake."

His voice sounded much stronger, allowing him to warm up first and then deal with his injuries—it seemed that her choice was probably the right one.

She opened the pill bottle, placed one at his lips.

Watching him move the pill around in his mouth, noting his blood-encrusted eye corners, she reached out to drip spring water from her fingertips.

Watching him successfully swallow the pill.

She gave him another, and he repeated the process, then said,

"Mission accomplished."

Carefully pouring the disinfectant solution over the wound.

He immediately flinched but struggled to control himself, not moving again.

She watched for any dirt in the wound but only saw blood being washed away.

Be sure not to touch the obvious blood clots and then took out an alcohol-soaked cotton ball to clean around the wound.

She would not allow herself to think about how severe the wound was or how easily it could get infected in such a non-sterile environment.

Instead, she focused only on what she had to do, one step at a time.

She used another disinfectant cotton ball to wipe his hands, the needle, and the forceps.

Then she put on disposable gloves, disinfecting every item once more.

She used iodine to disinfect his forehead.

After sterilizing as much as possible, she prepared herself, took a deep breath, and began stitching.

The curved needle in her hand pierced through his skin, forcefully piercing towards the other side of the wound.

"It's going to hurt, hang in there."

He didn't respond.

His eyes were closed, breathing regularly.

Though there were painkillers, Jiang Xiaoxiao knew it surely hurt, but obviously not as intensely as she'd imagined.

At least, his body didn't tense up from pain when she inserted the needle.

That alone was comforting to her.

She moved slowly, afraid of causing him pain.

Each stitch was tied off, the suture thread was cut, so each stitch was independent.

The wound was very deep, a full six inches long.

She knew exactly how many stitches should be placed in each inch so the wound would heal beautifully afterwards.

From start to finish, she was certain she had spent at least half an hour.

She carefully arranged the black suture thread, wiped away the bleeding caused by piercing the skin with the needle, then hesitated about whether to apply some antibiotic ointment before bandaging the wound.

It was the only antibiotic-containing medication at hand.

But they were not doing the stitching in a normal sterile environment, and the required medicines and tools were incomplete.

She and Song Moting were trapped on the mountainside, in the snow, with a lack of food.

She thought his immune system might need all the help it could get.

She carefully applied a bit of ointment to the wound, which included a mild painkiller, which had to be beneficial.

Then she placed gauze over the wound, wrapped the gauze around the head, and then used medical tape to wrap an additional layer over the gauze.

The final result, if she were to say so herself, turned out neatly and beautifully, and the bandage would help prevent dirt from entering the wound.

"All done!"

Finally, she announced, slumping down beside him.

It wasn't the suturing that drained her energy, but her head felt like it had been hit with a sledgehammer.

Song Moting was acutely aware of Jiang Xiaoxiao's fatigue.

He was anxious, but there was nothing he could do.

This helplessness was frustrating.

Damn it, he still managed to think his wife was too beautiful even at this moment.

He used to think she was beautiful in terms of appearance, but now her beauty absolutely wasn't because of her looks, as she currently resembled a street beggar.

Her hair was messy, her face was covered in blood and dirt, and there were bruises under her eyes that might turn black and blue tomorrow.

Her military coat was stained with blood everywhere, and there were ripped places exposing the cotton inside.

By all appearances, she was a female homeless person.

But she was exactly the kind of beautiful that made one's heart ache for Jiang Xiaoxiao.