After finishing one wrist, Ran Weiyi took hold of his other hand.
The injuries on this side were just as horrifying.
With the same gentleness, the same meticulous care, she cleaned it, disinfected it, and applied medicine.
Throughout the entire process, Ye Mochen was like a puppet whose strings had been cut, allowing her to move him however she wished.
He forgot about the pain.
He forgot about time.
In his world, there was only the cool ointment on her fingertips, and the calming herbal scent that clung to her body.
At last, both wrists were treated. The final layer of gauze was wrapped neatly, finished with a pretty little bow.
Ran Weiyi didn’t withdraw her hand right away.
Instead, her fingers followed the bandaged wrist and lightly rested over his pulse.
Her expression instantly turned extremely focused—more serious even than when she had been dressing his wounds.
Ye Mochen could feel it clearly: beneath her soft fingertips, his blood pulsed again and again.
Strong—yet chaotic.
That familiar agitation, the one that nearly tore his reason apart, began to stir restlessly deep within his veins once more.
But her fingers stayed right there, suppressing the volcano about to erupt inside him.
In his pupils, her tightly furrowed brows were reflected with painful clarity.
She was worried about him.
That realization instantly soothed the violence that was about to awaken again.
He even felt an unprecedented impulse—
To lift his hand and smooth away the crease between her brows.
After a long while, Ran Weiyi finally withdrew her hand. The gravity between her brows, however, did not fade.
The situation was far worse than she had imagined.
This wasn’t a single toxin at all, but an extremely sinister compound formed from multiple lost ancient poisons.
These toxins intertwined, catalyzing one another, forming a brand-new poison—one she had never encountered before.
Like a tangled web, it had rooted itself deep into his limbs, organs, and marrow, relentlessly eroding both his mind and body, plunging him into endless pain and madness.
Every flare-up consumed his life force.
This wasn’t meant to kill him outright.
It was meant to leave him unable to live, unable to die—until he was driven completely insane by suffering.
How vicious the person behind this must be.
No wonder, in the original story, he died so young.
“Miss Ran…”
Jiang Pei, his heart hanging in his throat, finally couldn’t hold back. His voice trembled, carrying hope he himself hadn’t realized he had.
“Master Mo… he—”
Ran Weiyi lifted her head and met Jiang Pei’s worried gaze. From the corner of her eye, she also caught the unblinking stare of the man beside her.
She didn’t answer Jiang Pei. She only shook her head very lightly, signaling him to stay quiet.
Then she turned back, looking straight into Ye Mochen’s deep, ancient-pool-like eyes.
“Ye Mochen,” she called softly, clearly and seriously, syllable by syllable.
His long, thick lashes trembled almost imperceptibly.
“Your poison—I can cure it.”
Those six words were light, yet they struck his dead-silent heart like a stone dropped into deep water, sending ripples spreading endlessly.
Jiang Pei’s eyes flew wide open. He forgot even how to breathe.
C-can cure it?
So many renowned doctors had been helpless, all declaring that Master Mo wouldn’t live past thirty—and this Miss Ran was saying she could cure him?!
In Ye Mochen’s lifeless pupils, a trace of light finally appeared.
That light was born because of her.
Meeting his unfathomable gaze, Ran Weiyi continued calmly.
“But I have one condition.”
His cracked lips moved slightly, yet no sound came out.
Only those pitch-black eyes stared at her without blinking—asking, waiting for judgment.
Ran Weiyi met his gaze head-on and stated her condition, word by word, clearly and decisively.
“From now on, your life is under my control.”
This wasn’t a negotiation.
It was a declaration.
The air froze instantly.
Jiang Pei’s breathing stopped.
What… what did he just hear?
What kind of outrageous words was Miss Ran saying?!
Under her control?
Control whom—Master Mo?!
He stared at Ran Weiyi in shock.
Did she even know who she was talking to? This was the living King of Hell of the Ye family, the man the entire Shen City avoided at all costs!
Was she saving him—or staging a coup?!
Yet the thunderous rage he had expected never came.
Ye Mochen didn’t move.
He only looked at her, the darkness in his pupils so dense it seemed to swallow light itself.
There was no anger at being offended.
Instead, something far more terrifying surged within—an intense, burning possessiveness.
Under her control?
His life?
That realization made the long-rotten heart in his chest seize violently, then erupt with a fierce, unfamiliar throb.
For so many years, everyone had feared him, avoided him, wished him dead.
Only her.
Only her—
Said she would take charge of his life.
Slowly, he curled his lips.
That wasn’t a smile.
It was the satisfied, dangerous curve of a beast that had finally found a chain it was willing to place around its own neck.
“Fine.”
One hoarse word emerged from his throat.
Jiang Pei’s legs went weak. He almost couldn’t stand.
Master Mo… actually agreed?
Ran Weiyi’s expression didn’t change, as if she had expected this all along.
She tried to pull her hand back—but he flipped his palm and grabbed her instead. His hand was scorching hot, his grip frighteningly strong.
This was no longer a passive puppet.
This was a beast that had locked onto its prey and extended its claws once more.
“My life is yours.”
His voice was still hoarse, but now it carried an obsessive heat.
“Then what about you?”
Ye Mochen’s eyes locked onto her relentlessly.
“Are you… also mine?”
As expected—his possessiveness was intense.
Ran Weiyi’s heartbeat skipped.
She could clearly see it: the violence she had just calmed was stirring again in his eyes.
But this time, it wasn’t aimed at the world.
It was directed entirely at her—
A madness of absolute possession.
She lowered her gaze to their intertwined hands.
His palm was burning, veins standing out sharply. Against it, her hand looked even more slender and pale.
She didn’t pull away.
Instead, within his scorching grip, she turned her hand over and gently brushed the back of his hand with her cool fingertips.
A soothing gesture.
“Your poison can’t wait,” Ran Weiyi said, lifting her eyes to meet his again, her tone returning to a physician’s calm professionalism.
“We need to begin the first round of detoxification acupuncture immediately.”
Then she looked toward the completely petrified Jiang Pei.
“Jiang Pei.”
Jiang Pei jolted violently back to his senses. “Here! Miss Ran, please give your orders!”
“Prepare an absolutely quiet room. I need a full set of silver needles—varied lengths. Also prepare strong liquor, a brazier, and clean cloths.”
Her speech wasn’t fast, but every word was precise, carrying an authority that left no room for doubt.
Jiang Pei glanced at their intertwined hands, then at the terrifying light in his master’s eyes, and nodded frantically.
“Yes! Yes! Miss Ran, I’ll prepare everything right away!”
As if granted a pardon, Jiang Pei fled almost in panic.
He couldn’t stay here another second.
It was too terrifying.
And far too… exhilarating.