“Mr… Mr. Gu?”
Ji Huaixiang felt her tongue tie itself in knots.
Gu Wujin’s dark eyes deepened as he looked at her. The girl’s small face had paled even further from shock. Strands of her long black hair clung messily to the sides of her face. Paired with her red lips, she carried a kind of disheveled beauty.
“Mm.”
He gave a low hum, almost like a nasal exhale.
The man’s hand was still resting on her back, holding the zipper of the dress. Something occurred to Ji Huaixiang. She jerked away violently, retreating until her back hit the wardrobe. Only then did she ask in a panic:
“Why are you here?”
“This is my mother’s room.”
Gu Wujin stepped closer. The girl’s voice trembled, slipping back into that soft, drunken kitten-like tone from that night—whiny, coaxing, scratching right at the heart.
As he closed in and stood right in front of her, Ji Huaixiang’s tension reached its peak. She raised a hand to stop him:
“Don’t come so close.”
She tried to back away, but her back was already pressed against the wardrobe door. There was nowhere left to go.
Gu Wujin’s thin lips curved slightly. He seemed oblivious to the fact that she was on the verge of tears. He took another step forward, effectively trapping her in the small dressing area.
In the narrow space, the air flowed slowly, carrying a silent, wordless pressure.
Gu Wujin’s deep black eyes fixed intently on the girl before him—so ethereal yet so妖 (bewitching). The light gray dress was sleeveless chiffon. Her slender arms were bare, the fair skin dazzlingly white. The layered, irregular hem of the skirt cascaded down, concealing a pair of slim, straight legs. Ji Huaixiang wasn’t wearing shoes; her bare feet pressed against the deep gray wool carpet. Her round, pale toes curled anxiously—adorable enough to make someone want to scoop them up and play with them in their palm.
His profound, unreadable gaze roamed over her, as if carrying blades—sharp and piercing. Ji Huaixiang’s face turned deathly pale. Her black eyes shimmered with unshed tears, full of panic and helplessness. She was terrified of seeing disgust or contempt in the man’s eyes. Just like all those people before who had caught her scent—they would avoid her from afar, then point and whisper behind her back, mocking her secretly.
Her hands pressed weakly against Gu Wujin’s chest, as if deceiving herself that a little more distance would mean he’d smell less of her stench.
Gu Wujin reached out with his fingertips and gently wiped away the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. His voice was softer than it had ever been before. He teased lightly:
“Why are you crying? Did I wrong you by pulling up your zipper?”
Ji Huaixiang stared at him in stunned disbelief.
“Or is the dress ugly and you’re crying over that?”
His warm fingertip rubbed back and forth under her eye. Even though he lightened his touch, the pressure was still a little heavy. Gu Wujin lowered his head, his gaze falling on her chest—rising and falling rapidly, the fabric stretched taut.
“Or maybe the dress doesn’t fit? You’re upset about that?”
The layer of moisture in Ji Huaixiang’s eyes finally condensed into tears that slid down onto the man’s fingertip—scalding hot. Hearing his words, the tears stopped falling. She stared fixedly at Gu Wujin. In his deep, dark eyes there was no trace of disgust or contempt—only an intense, unreadable depth.
After a long silence, Ji Huaixiang finally spoke:
“You… didn’t smell it? The odor on my body?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she lowered her lashes. Her hands at her sides unconsciously clenched into fists.
Gu Wujin took another step forward. The space between them was now barely two palm-widths. He bent down and leaned close to the side of her neck.
Ji Huaixiang held her breath in terror, biting her red lip so hard it nearly bled.
He inhaled deeply. Then, in a low voice right beside her ear, Gu Wujin said:
“It smells like solid musk.”
Ji Huaixiang’s ear tingled from the heat of his breath. Hearing his words, her face drained of color in an instant. She knew solid musk carried a strong, foul stench.
Her fingernails dug deeply into her soft palms. In a small, trembling voice, Ji Huaixiang said:
“Mr. Gu… please don’t hate me, okay…”
Her soft voice cracked with sobs, pitiful to the extreme. “From now on, I’ll keep my distance. I won’t let you smell the stench on me anymore. If you still… don’t like it, after I finish blending the perfume for Madam Shen, we won’t have any more contact.”
The soft flesh of her palm ached from her nails. She didn’t want to—didn’t want at all—to stay far away from him.
Gu Wujin straightened up. He didn’t answer her plea. Instead, he looked at Ji Huaixiang and pointed to his own leg.
“Look at this leg of mine. It’s lame.”
He met her eyes and said mockingly:
“The doctor says it can be cured, but it requires someone to donate a small section of bone from their leg. Are you willing to donate it to me? Even if you end up lame afterward, I guarantee you’ll never have to worry about food or clothing for the rest of your life.”
Ji Huaixiang was stunned. His leg could really be healed?
After a long silence, seeing the girl remain quiet, the corner of Gu Wujin’s mouth twisted in self-mockery. Just as he turned to leave, Ji Huaixiang spoke:
“Can your leg really be cured? The doctor said just donating a small piece of bone is enough? Is there any blood type requirement?”
Her black eyes shone brightly. She no longer cared that he might dislike her body odor. She nodded firmly.
“Mr. Gu, I’m willing. I’m willing to donate my bone to you.”
His heart clenched violently, as if gripped tightly by an invisible hand.
Gu Wujin spun around and strode out without another word.
Crazy!
Lunatic!
Watching the man’s tall figure flee as if escaping, limping quickly out of the dressing room, Ji Huaixiang’s bright black eyes lost their light. The mist in her eye sockets rapidly condensed into tears. Powerlessly leaning against the wardrobe door, she thought to herself: Sure enough, he despises me now.
“What are you crying for?”
After who-knows-how-long, a low male voice sounded.
Gu Wujin had come back. He pinched Ji Huaixiang’s chin and lifted her face.
“Mr. Gu?”
Ji Huaixiang hadn’t expected him to return.
Gu Wujin’s eyes were dark and heavy, staring fixedly at her. His grip tightened as he demanded:
“Are you really willing to give me your bone? Even if it means you’ll be lame afterward, you don’t mind?”
Ji Huaixiang’s eyes brimmed with tears. She nodded—she was willing.
“Even if it means going to the hospital for surgery tomorrow?”
He refused to miss even the slightest flicker in her eyes.
Ji Huaixiang nodded again.
“Mm.”
Gu Wujin’s pupils contracted sharply. His gaze turned vicious.
“Ji Huaixiang.”
He squeezed her chin harder, fingertips pressing deeply into her fair skin, full of violent menace.
“If you fucking dare lie to me, I’ll break both your legs, lock you in a cage, and kill you.”
Ji Huaixiang nodded once more.
Only then did Gu Wujin slowly loosen his grip on her chin. Seeing the bright red fingerprints he’d left behind, his heart lurched chaotically. Only now did the frantic, uncontrollable pounding in his chest finally calm.
Finally, his fingertips brushed the corners of her eyes again. In a tone both awkward and helpless, he said:
“Why so much water? So delicate?”
After a pause, he added:
“That night, I was the one who took off your jacket. I don’t mind your smell.”