Today’s ordeal had truly exhausted Su Jinxiu.
After seeing off the last group of villagers watching the spectacle and sending away the men who had come to work, the courtyard finally fell back into silence. A pale moon hung on the bare treetops, and broken bamboo chips scattered across the ground reflected a cold, dim light.
Su Jinxiu firmly shut the courtyard gate and even secured the butcher knife—left behind by Butcher Zhang as a weapon—onto the door latch.
Only then did she feel that her lead-heavy legs truly belonged to her. With every step, her calves cramped from exhaustion.
Back inside, Huo Chen was already leaning against the bed, resting with his eyes closed. The oil lamp flickered like a bean of light, casting deep shadows along his tall nose bridge, making his already cold face appear even more inaccessible.
“Husband, still not asleep?”
Su Jinxiu forced herself awake and took out a small bottle of red flower oil from the cabinet. It was something she had exchanged for leftover system points earlier while handling butcher Zhang’s pork kidneys—originally intended for her own shoulders.
Huo Chen opened his eyes. His gaze landed on the strange glass bottle in her hand.
“What is this?” he asked.
“Divine water,” Su Jinxiu replied casually as she sat down by the bed. She warmed her palms, then poured a little oil into them. “Roll up your pant leg.”
Huo Chen frowned slightly and instinctively pulled back.
“What are you doing?”
“Rehabilitation,” she said, already reaching for his pants. “You’ve been lying in bed for half a month. The bones are healed, but if the muscles atrophy, you’ll end up with one leg shorter than the other. Do you want to become a one-legged frog hopping around?”
At the word “frog,” Huo Chen’s face darkened.
But in the end, he didn’t resist.
He let her roll up his pant leg.
The originally strong and powerful calf—now due to prolonged bed rest—was indeed thinner than the other leg, pale and slightly weak-looking.
Su Jinxiu looked at it and sighed inwardly.
This tyrant was clearly a trained fighter before. Even though the muscle had weakened, the structure was still beautiful. It would be a pity if it became useless.
She placed her palm on it.
Huo Chen’s body suddenly tensed.
Her hands were slightly rough from work, but the warmth was intense—passing through his skin like an electric current, shooting straight up his spine.
“Relax,” Su Jinxiu said. “You’re as stiff as a rock. How am I supposed to massage you?”
“This is medical treatment, not harassment. With how skinny you are right now, you don’t even have more flesh than Butcher Zhang.”
Huo Chen: “……”
One day, he was going to sew this woman’s mouth shut.
Despite her words, her hands were precise and controlled. As a surgeon, she knew human anatomy inside out—every press landed on muscle origins, insertions, and meridians.
Soreness, swelling, numbness, pain—all of it surged in waves.
“Bear with it,” she muttered. “Where there’s blockage, there’s pain. Where there’s pain, there’s blockage.”
She softened her tone slightly.
“Husband, you need to recover quickly. This world is too chaotic. I’m counting on you to protect me.”
“When that Li widower showed up today, if you hadn’t thrown that stone, I would’ve been at a disadvantage.”
Huo Chen leaned against the wall, looking down at the woman massaging his leg.
She was very thin—her neck slender, and due to exertion, a fine layer of sweat formed on her forehead. Strands of damp hair clung to her temples.
She said she was relying on him for protection—but her movements were careful, almost… cherishing.
“Mm,” he responded faintly from his nose.
Massage work was physically draining, especially deep muscle manipulation. Su Jinxiu was already exhausted. After less than fifteen minutes, her eyelids began to droop.
“This side… still needs to be loosened…”
Her voice grew softer and softer. Her movements slowed, then finally stopped.
Her head tilted forward and rested against Huo Chen’s knee.
She fell asleep.
Huo Chen waited a moment, then called out tentatively:
“Su Jinxiu?”
No response.
Only slow, even breathing.
Asleep already?
He was speechless.
How big was her heart—to fall asleep beside a man who could kill her at any moment?
The night wind picked up.
Although the repaired roof no longer leaked, cracks in the walls still let in cold drafts. The wind blew directly toward the bed, bone-chilling.
In her sleep, Su Jinxiu shrank her neck and instinctively moved toward the warmth—Huo Chen’s leg.
Huo Chen’s body stiffened.
The military dagger hidden under the pillow pressed coldly against his wrist.
Logic told him he should push her away. Or ignore her entirely.
But as he looked at her defenseless sleeping face—remembering how she argued fiercely over a few copper coins during the day… remembering how she had stood in front of him with nothing but a small wooden stick—
His hand paused.
He let out a soft sigh and loosened his grip on the blade.
Shifting his body slightly, he moved with great care, careful not to wake her.
Then he extended his slightly rough hand, placing it in front of the crack in the wall where cold wind was seeping through.
The wind hit the back of his hand, quickly stealing away its warmth until it turned icy cold. Yet he did not withdraw it. Instead, he adjusted his posture, using half of his body and his arm to block the sharpest draft, shielding her from the biting night wind.
“Gold… big houses…”
In her sleep, Su Jinxiu smacked her lips and suddenly muttered something incoherent. A silly, satisfied grin spread across her face.
Huo Chen’s mouth twitched uncontrollably.
Looking at her greedy, foolish expression, a rare trace of warmth appeared in his otherwise cold and hardened eyes.
“Useless,” he muttered softly.
But he still did not move his hand away.