Ran Weiyi’s gaze swept over him and returned to Ye Mochen’s calm sleeping face.
In her mind, the formula for the “Beginner’s Detox Pill” was clear as day. Every ingredient was memorized—some common, some extremely rare. Yet she didn’t feel the slightest worry; the Ye family had the means to procure everything.
“I’ll prepare it.”
Lin Bo’s voice carried a hoarse excitement. He straightened his bent back and hurried out. Years of despair were shattered by this single beam of hope.
The footsteps faded, leaving the large room silent once more—just Ran Weiyi and the man lying on the bed.
The thick stench of blood gradually gave way to the unique herbal aroma emanating from her.
Ran Weiyi reached out, letting her fingertip gently trace Ye Mochen’s brow.
The lines once twisted by pain had now softened.
The most obsessive, tragic madman in this story now slept quietly, like a child.
Her fingertips seemed to carry a strange, soothing power.
At that moment, Ye Mochen’s eyelashes fluttered slightly.
He didn’t wake.
For the first time in the endless darkness of pain, he felt a trace of warmth.
It wasn’t the burn of fire, nor the tear of poison.
It was the only real sensation in a void of suffering. Instinctively, he longed to chase that small warmth.
Ran Weiyi withdrew her hand and moved to the window, opening it just enough to let in the cold night air, which stirred a strand of hair along her cheek.
Soon, the sound of orderly footsteps came from outside.
Lin Bo returned, followed by several servants carrying large wooden tubs filled with the freshly brewed, inky black medicinal decoction. The rich herbal aroma quickly overpowered the lingering smell of blood.
Heads lowered, the servants dared not glance at Ye Mochen, nor at the mysterious young woman overseeing the process. Under Lin Bo’s strict gaze, they simply prepared everything.
“Miss, it’s all ready,” Lin Bo said respectfully.
Ran Weiyi nodded. “All of you, go out.”
Her quiet command made the servants feel as if pardoned—they immediately left.
“Lin Bo, stay and help me.” Lin Bo hesitated, then nodded firmly.
“Yes, miss.”
Getting an unconscious adult male into a bath wasn’t easy—especially one as tall as Ye Mochen. Ran Weiyi directed Lin Bo: one lifting the shoulders, the other the legs.
“Slowly,” she reminded softly.
Lin Bo’s arms shook, not from the weight, but from nerves. One slip could hurt his master.
Finally, Ye Mochen’s body was carefully placed into the medicinal bath. The black liquid rose swiftly, covering his chest, leaving only his pale neck and sharply defined jaw exposed. Steam blurred his face.
Ran Weiyi reached into the warm decoction and accurately located key acupuncture points along his back. Her fingertips pressed in a measured rhythm, guiding the medicinal power deeper into his meridians and bones.
With her touch, Ye Mochen’s furrowed brow gradually relaxed. A faint sigh escaped his throat.
Lin Bo stood nearby, holding his breath, awe growing with every precise movement she made.
Who was this young lady?
Time passed slowly, the herbal aroma filling the air.
The decoction in the bath visibly lightened—the dark potency seemingly absorbed by Ye Mochen’s body.
When the final trace of medicinal energy was drawn out, Ran Weiyi slowly withdrew her hands.
“All done.” She stood and instructed Lin Bo, “Lift him out and dry him.”
“Yes!” Lin Bo’s voice was firm, resolute.
After some effort, Ye Mochen was placed back on a clean bed, dressed in soft sleeping garments. A fresh herbal scent clung to him, and the lifeless grayness had faded from his face, leaving a hint of color. His breathing was long and steady.
Ran Weiyi went to the table, wrote down a list of herbs, and handed it to Lin Bo.
“Find all of these as soon as possible. Not a single one missing.”
Lin Bo took the paper as if it were treasure. Glancing over it, he felt a jolt—some of these herbs were incredibly rare, almost priceless. But he showed no hesitation.
“Don’t worry, miss. I will gather every single one, even if I have to dig three feet into the ground!”
He bowed deeply once more, then left with unprecedented determination.
The room returned to quiet.
Ran Weiyi sat by the bed, quietly watching Ye Mochen.
She knew this was just the beginning. The road ahead was still full of thorns—the reborn original heroine, hidden enemies, and the impenetrable cage inside Ye Mochen’s heart.
There was still much to be done, but she was unafraid.
She reached out, gently taking his hand this time.
His hand was cold, the bones prominent. She slowly warmed it with her own.
“Ye Mochen,” she whispered softly, both to him and as a promise to herself.
“This time, I won’t let you fall into hell again.”
Moonlight filtered through the window, casting mottled shadows on the floor.
“Ugh…”
A stifled groan escaped Ye Mochen’s throat.
His brow furrowed, pain etched across his handsome face. Sweat beaded at his temple, tracing the tense line of his jaw.
He seemed trapped in a terrible nightmare, his body trembling subtly.
“Don’t be afraid.”
Ran Weiyi bent closer, her voice low, carrying an uncanny soothing power.
“I’m here.”
Her fingertips, infused with the cooling herbal scent, gently massaged his temples.
“Ye Mochen, listen to me.”
“Nightmares are not real.”
“You are safe now.”
She repeated these words again and again, like the gentlest spell.
Miraculously, Ye Mochen’s trembling gradually subsided.
His tightly furrowed brow slowly relaxed. The struggle etched on his face was replaced by a weary peace.
He still hadn’t opened his eyes, but in that half-dream state, his lips moved slightly, muttering faintly:
“…Don’t go…”
The voice was like a whisper, hoarse, barely audible.
Ran Weiyi heard it.
Each word struck her heart like a hammer.
Her eyes reddened instantly.
He had endured so much abandonment and betrayal, yet even in unconsciousness, he clung so humbly.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
She lowered her head, her warm lips pressing against his icy hand. A drop of heat fell silently.
“I will never leave you.”