He wanted to turn his head, to see what expression she wore at this moment.
“Don’t move.” The cool, commanding voice stopped him instantly.
Ye Mochen froze mid-motion, lying there like a tamed beast, retracting all claws and fangs.
More and more black blood seeped from the tails of the silver needles—one drop, two drops, three.
The snow-white bedsheet soon became stained and chaotic, like a defiled altar.
And Ran Weiyi stood above it, the cold and indifferent deity, methodically cleaning and replacing the cotton.
At that moment, the heavy door creaked open just a crack.
The mansion’s elderly housekeeper, Lin Bo, appeared, his face lined with age and worry.
The instant he saw the scene inside, his murky eyes widened with shock and anger.
His young master—the proud and supremely respected, yet fragile young master—was lying bare-chested, being pierced by countless long needles at the hands of a stranger!
The black stains on the white sheet stabbed at Lin Bo’s eyes.
“Who are you?!”
His voice trembled with fury as he stepped forward.
“Who allowed you to touch my master! Someone help!” He lunged toward Ran Weiyi, intending to pull her away.
But she didn’t even turn her head. All her attention remained fixed on Ye Mochen; no distraction was allowed.
“Leave.” Her voice was quiet but carried a coldness that made his heart skip a beat.
Lin Bo’s outstretched hand froze mid-air.
The fleeting authority radiating from this young woman left him intimidated.
“I—”
He tried to speak, but a hoarse, almost inaudible voice came from the couch.
“Lin Bo.”
Ye Mochen’s face remained buried in his arm, his weak voice barely audible.
“Step back.”
Lin Bo’s eyes immediately welled up with tears.
“Master, this stranger is hurting you!”
Ye Mochen didn’t answer.
He merely turned his head slightly with all his remaining strength.
His gaze, past his own shoulder, fell on Ran Weiyi’s focused profile.
Under the lamplight, her long lashes cast shadows, her expression calm and… pure, utterly untainted by this filthy world.
“She…”
Ye Mochen’s throat made a strained sound.
“is saving me.”
“Saving me.” Three words, light as air, yet heavy as mountains pressing down on Lin Bo’s heart.
He stood frozen. The rage in his eyes solidified, shattering into a bewildered, icy mess.
Saving him?
Using these terrifying silver needles, in this bloodletting way—is that… saving him?
Lin Bo’s gaze involuntarily flicked between Ye Mochen’s pale, weak profile and Ran Weiyi’s cold, focused figure.
The thought was absurd. Yet the words came from the young master he had devoted his life to serving.
Ye Mochen’s voice fell silent again. Those three words alone had exhausted all his strength.
His breathing grew heavy, cold sweat dampening his hairline, clinging to his pale skin.
Yet his black eyes remained unwavering, locked on Ran Weiyi.
The light in them had not extinguished—it burned even brighter deep in his pupils.
Ran Weiyi was unaware, or perhaps unconcerned.
Her world consisted only of this broken body before her and the silver needles at work.
The last main needle’s point began to produce blood that was gradually lighter, but it wasn’t enough.
She reached for the longest silver needle, lightly sterilizing its tip over the fire.
She turned and positioned it over a critical point at the back of Ye Mochen.
“No…” Lin Bo instinctively spoke, his heart tightening.
That point—it was too dangerous!
“Stop talking.”
Ran Weiyi’s voice remained calm, without even turning her head.
Her action didn’t falter. With a steady wrist, the long needle pierced the acupuncture point with flawless precision.
“Ugh!”
Ye Mochen’s body arched sharply, like a bow drawn to its limit. A stifled groan escaped through his teeth.
The muscles in his back instantly tensed, every inch of skin trembling violently—a pain that seemed to reach his very soul.
Lin Bo’s eyes turned red. He could no longer restrain himself and lunged forward.
“Master!”
At the moment his hand was about to touch the couch, the needle he had just pierced released a jet of black blood.
It splashed onto the white sheet, leaving a shocking stain.
Then came the second, third…
The color was black-purple, with a nauseating metallic stench.
Lin Bo’s hand froze midair again. He stared at the substances being expelled from his master’s body.
As the tainted blood drained, Ye Mochen’s body, taut to the extreme, gradually relaxed. His heavy breaths evened out.
Finally, when the last drop of black blood fell, a bright red appeared at the tip of the needle.
That red was like a resilient plum blossom in winter, vivid against the filthy chaos—full of life.
Ran Weiyi’s gaze sharpened. She swiftly removed all the silver needles.
[DouDou: Sister! Ye Mochen’s hatred for the world has decreased to 80%!]
[DouDou: His affection for sister has increased to 20%! Amazing job, sister!]
The cheerful system voice echoed in her mind.
[Reward: Basic Detoxification Formula.]
Ran Weiyi’s expression remained unchanged.
Outside, darkness had quietly fallen.
She picked up clean cotton and gently wiped away the last drop of bright red blood. Only then did she stand, exhausted, sweat forming a thin layer on her forehead, her body near collapse.
“Lin Bo.”
For the first time, she looked directly at the loyal old man.
“Prepare a medicinal bath.”
“And clean up these things.” Her voice remained cold and steady.
Lin Bo stared at her, then at the young master seemingly asleep on the couch.
Ye Mochen’s face had lost the long-held rage and pain, replaced by a rare, peaceful sleep.
“Yes, miss.”
Lin Bo’s lips trembled. He bowed deeply to this unknown young girl—a gesture he had only ever given to the true master of the Ye family.
At this moment, he offered his utmost respect to a mysterious stranger.