The first rays of morning light pierced through the heavy curtains, casting a faint golden streak across the expensive floor.
Ye Mochen’s consciousness returned abruptly from a deep silence.
Unlike ordinary waking grogginess, the instant his eyes opened, his gaze was sharp and alert.
There was another person in the room. The breath was light, shallow—but it struck his alertness like a drumbeat.
Killing intent silently spread through his body.
His muscles tensed, ready to snap the source of that breath in an instant.
Yet in the next moment, his movements froze.
Something was holding his hand.
It wasn’t a restraint, but a soft, enveloping warmth—an unfamiliar heat that spread from the contact, dispelling the long-standing chill in his fingertips.
He stiffly moved his eyes downward.
It was a very small hand, delicate knuckles, skin so pale it almost shone.
His gaze traced upward from their clasped hands, finally resting on that exquisitely beautiful face, even in sleep.
Long hair fell messily around her, strands brushing against slightly parted lips. A faint bluish tint under her eyes hinted at fatigue.
Wei…yi.
It wasn’t a hallucination.
The killing intent in Ye Mochen’s eyes instantly melted, and a corner of his heart long frozen felt a sudden, unfamiliar warmth.
It was strange—not painful, but an indescribable kind of tingling.
A familiar, almost nostalgic scent wafted in the air. Herbal medicine, pure with a subtle sweetness—this scent had pulled him back from an endless fall into darkness.
He didn’t pull his hand back. Instead, he watched her quietly, as if inspecting something beyond his comprehension.
This was the first time someone hadn’t recoiled or feared him in his most pitiful state, but instead said they wanted to save him.
As Ye Mochen’s gaze almost seared into her, Ran Weiyi moved slightly.
Her sleeping posture had been uncomfortable; her body stiffened like stone. She let out a small groan, half of her body numb.
Her eyelashes twitched as she slowly opened her eyes, drowsily lifting her head—directly meeting Ye Mochen’s dark, intense eyes, which reflected her faintly surprised face.
She abruptly sat up, cautiously trying to withdraw her hand. But the moment she moved her wrist, a strong grip held it firmly.
Ye Mochen’s hand, at some unknown moment, had taken the lead, enveloping hers completely.
His hand was much larger, with fingertips calloused yet still cool.
“Morning.”
His voice carried the husky, magnetic timbre unique to early morning, sending a shiver down her spine.
Her heartbeat skipped.
“Morning,” she whispered back.
Ye Mochen didn’t move, only stared intently at her, as if trying to etch her image into his soul.
[DouDou: Sister! Ye Mochen’s world-disgust value has decreased by 1%! Now 79%!]
[DouDou: His affection toward you has increased to 22%! His first glance upon waking increased his love for you!]
The system voice sang with excitement in her mind.
Ran Weiyi’s lips curved into an involuntary smile.
“How do you feel? Any discomfort?”
She tried to mask her racing heart—and the hand firmly held within his—with a professional tone.
Ye Mochen didn’t answer, continuing his unwavering stare.
“You didn’t leave.” After a moment, his throat moved, finally speaking—not as a question, but a statement.
Her heart skipped a beat.
She remembered his humble plea in his unconscious state: “Don’t go.” Now, seeing his almost obsessive gaze, her chest ached in an unfamiliar way.
“I’m a doctor. The patient isn’t cured yet, I won’t leave.”
She tried to pull her hand gently. “Can I let go now? My hand is numb, really.”
Instead of loosening, Ye Mochen gripped tighter.
The pressure along her knuckles made her frown lightly.
His gaze fell on her slightly reddened eyes, deepening further.
Stayed awake all night for him?
That thought turned the strange tingling in his chest into a more insistent, burning heat.
Then there would be no escape ever.
“Numb?”
Ye Mochen’s thumb moved. His calloused pad pressed lightly yet firmly against the back of her hand, slowly kneading.
“I’ll help you relax it.”
The touch was intimate, almost excessive.
Ran Weiyi felt the numbness spreading from her hand through half her body, her heartbeat wildly out of rhythm. The kneading was just right—relieving stiffness—while his calloused pads brushed lightly over her tender skin, sending a delicate shiver up her arm.
She felt as if being roasted alive, the heat spreading from her hand, flushing her ears red.
This guy… is doing this on purpose.
His dark eyes locked onto hers, a faint smile flickering in the depths.
Her heartbeat completely lost control.
Just as she thought the sweet torment would continue, his thumb stopped moving.
After a moment, he finally released the grip—but not completely. His hand slid, gently pressing, threading her fingers through his, intertwining their ten fingers.
His hand remained cool, yet the connection felt scorching.
She instinctively wanted to pull away, but he tightened, pulling her closer.
[DouDou: Warning! Unidentified emotional fluctuation detected. Parsing… complete. Sister, Ye Mochen’s possessiveness value soared from 0 to 10%!]
[DouDou: Database analysis: entwined fingers in human intimacy symbolize possession and belonging! He’s marking you.]
Her heart raced, but she forced calm on her face.
She looked at his pale, handsome face, the faintly deepened curve of his lips, thinking:
He’s so skilled! How can he be this flirtatious!
His possessive intent felt almost tangible, flowing constantly through their intertwined fingers.
They were so close she could count his trembling lashes, smell his clean, crisp scent.
Then, breaking the suffocating silence, an untimely sound came:
“Gurgle…”
Not loud, but in the quiet room it rang like thunder.
It came from her stomach.
Her face flushed crimson. After a night of high alert, the moment she relaxed, her body rebelled.