Li Miaomiao stepped out of the kitchen, replaced the water for the offal soaking in the bucket, washed her face and feet, and finally headed to bed. Xiao Xian lay on the bed, utterly still. She barely glanced at him before blowing out the tung-oil lamp and drifting off.
She had been exhausted from the market and fell asleep almost instantly. However, Li Miaomiao had always been a light sleeper; in the dead of night, a series of ragged, fragmented gasps snapped her wide awake. With only the two of them in the room, the source of the sound was obvious.
She rubbed her eyes, her voice heavy with sleep. “What’s wrong?”
Xiao Xian didn’t answer. Only the muffled, animalistic groans of someone enduring extreme suffering betrayed his pain.
When he didn’t respond, Li Miaomiao scrambled out of bed and lit the lamp. The moment the light flared, she gasped. Xiao Xian lay there, his face as pale as snow and drenched in a thick coat of sweat. His long, elegant hands were clamped tightly over his legs, the veins on the back of his hands bulging.
Li Miaomiao had never encountered a situation like this before; she was at a loss. Seeing him clutching his legs, she realized his leg condition must be flaring up. She quickly pulled out her sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she asked, “What do I need to do to help you?”
Xiao Xian’s brows were locked in a tight frown. His dark eyes, once cool and aloof, held no warmth; he glared at her like a cornered wolf at the end of its rope. He gritted his teeth and spat out, “Don’t… meddle in my affairs.”
The raw, murderous aura radiating from him suggested that this was his true nature. Despite the past few days of relative calm, Li Miaomiao realized his personality was far from the harmless facade he wore. She bit back her rising anger and reached to pull up his trouser leg, but he swatted her hand away with a fierce strike.
Her shin slammed into the tea table. A jolt of needle-like pain shot through her entire body. She had always been terrified of pain, and the sting brought tears to her eyes. Xiao Xian, meanwhile, closed his eyes. Apart from the occasional muffled groan, he remained as motionless as a puppet.
It was clear he intended to suffer through it in silence—to die, if he had to.
The sight ignited a fire in Li Miaomiao. She steadied her breathing, strode over, and seized Xiao Xian’s wrists.
She wasn’t a clay figurine to be pushed around at will. Her voice was crisp, entirely stripped of its former gentleness. “You are clearly in agony, yet you’re hell-bent on playing the hero. Flesh, muscles, and bones are all connected; if the pain is too severe, it could kill you! If you keep on like this, you might lose the chance to ever stand again—or worse, it could cost you your life.”
Xiao Xian’s lips were bloodless. He didn’t care for her warnings. “Then let me die.”
Li Miaomiao nearly exploded. She was a woman who had died once already; she cherished the chance to live more than anyone, and she knew better than most that while dying was easy, living was the real trial.
“You want to die, do you? Fine, I’ll grant your wish.”
With one hand, she pinned his wrists; with the other, she reached for his waist.
The gesture caused Xiao Xian to snap his eyes open. He stared at where her hand was heading, his face darkening to a terrifying degree. He gritted his teeth, demanding, “What are you doing?”
He struggled to break free, but Li Miaomiao was fueled by pure, unadulterated rage. She had never been weak, and with Xiao Xian weakened by his flare-up, she put her entire weight into it and successfully pinned him down.
She gripped his wrists tightly, denying him any chance of escape, and reached out to undo his belt. At his furious demand, she scoffed. “You don’t want to die? I’ve lived this long and have never tasted a man. They say the best time to ‘take advantage of a situation’ is when a man is at his weakest. I’ll just have a go before you breathe your last.”
Her words left no room for retreat. She was trampling his dignity into the dirt.
Having fallen from grace, having seen his entire household slaughtered, even when people had hurled insults at him, he had always found other ways to retaliate. From his exile until now, he had never suffered such an insult.
In this moment, this crude woman was actually trying to violate him while he was incapacitated!
A cold, thunderous roar erupted from his throat: “Li Miaomiao, you are courting death!”
Hearing his voice, cold as glacial ice, Li Miaomiao felt a genuine flicker of fear. But she was past the point of no return—she had to see this through. If she backed down now, it would be impossible to ever convince him to seek help when his condition flared up again.
“That’s right, I am courting death.”
She glanced sideways at his face—usually so refined, now etched in a cold, murderous fury. She sneered, emphasizing every word: “Even if it kills me, I am going to… sleep with you.”
The next moment, Xiao Xian erupted in a fury. He yanked his hand free with startling force and lunged to seize her by the throat.
Having felt the strength in his grip when he’d grabbed her waist earlier, Li Miaomiao knew that if he managed to pin her by the throat, it would be all over. In a split second, she moved to block his hand, but he was too quick. As the man’s large hand reached for her, she scrambled to grab his… Xiao Xian was so enraged he wanted to crush her to death. He had never in his life encountered such a shameless woman.
As the two of them grappled, Li Miaomiao’s hand suddenly grabbed something it shouldn’t have.
Instantly, Xiao Xian’s ears turned beet-red.
The air solidified. A suffocating, awkward silence filled the cramped room. Li Miaomiao froze, her hand recoiling as if burned. She dropped her hands to her sides, clutching the edges of her clothes, utterly at a loss.
She turned her gaze toward the man, who was now cold as stone, and pulled at the corner of her mouth in an awkward grimace. “I’m sorry. I… I… I didn’t mean to.”
She had only wanted to force him to tell her how to treat his leg. She knew they couldn’t call a doctor in the middle of the night, but she had hoped there was some way to alleviate his pain. But he seemed hell-bent on death, deaf to reason, so she had tried to meet force with force.
And then… things had gone off the rails.
Had it been anyone else, Xiao Xian would have killed them by now. He glanced coldly at the woman who was acting like a frightened child, and spat out a single word:
“Scram.”
The woman pursed her lips and replied with a single word of her own:
“Oh.”
But scramming was impossible. If he didn’t tell her the method, she wasn’t going anywhere.
Seeing her standing by the bed like a wooden post, Xiao Xian closed his eyes, choosing to ignore her presence entirely. Watching him feign sleep, Li Miaomiao felt her temper flare. She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at his legs, reaching out, then pulling back.
After doing this a few times, she finally stopped hesitating. She decided to stare him down. She didn’t believe for a second that he could keep ignoring her under such a burning, intent gaze.
She was right. The man’s long eyelashes began to flutter continuously, and his hand, resting near her, twitched as if he were fighting the urge to strangle her. Looking at how his hand trembled as it lay on his leg, Li Miaomiao puffed out her cheeks, then pressed her lips together. A pang of pity washed over her—he must be in agonizing pain for his hands to shake like that.
After staring for so long, the shame began to evaporate. She watched him openly, righteously, and without an ounce of fear.
Finally, the man couldn’t take it anymore.
She wants to help me, does she? he thought. I don’t believe for a second she’ll be able to keep up this pretense once she sees the rotting mess of legs hidden beneath this fabric.
“Apply hot, boiled water to the area; it can alleviate the flare-up,” he said, his voice flat.
Hot water?
Just thinking about it made Li Miaomiao wince in sympathy. She furrowed her brows, gave a light cough, and said, “You just wait right there. I’m going to go boil some water.”
She boiled the water and poured it into a bucket. Fearing it might be too hot, she added a few ladles of cold water from the pot, keeping the remaining water on a low flame to maintain the temperature. She grabbed a towel from the wooden rack, tossed it into the bucket, and carried the steaming water back into the room.