Wensha weakly opened her eyes.
The ceiling was familiar—it was the Clan Leader’s home.
She tried to sit up in bed, but her body was unusually weak from excessive blood loss.
Even lifting an arm required all her strength, let alone using both hands to support herself.
She turned her head, her gaze sweeping across the room as if searching for something.
The cold moonlight streamed through the window, casting a pale glow on her cheek.
The dark room was empty; on the table lay a meal that had already gone cold.
The feeling at this moment stirred unpleasant memories.
Scenes from the past seemed to replay before her eyes, and the deep-seated fear and unease within her slowly surfaced, making her emotions grow anxious and fearful.
She did not want to become like this again, even a little change would do—she needed to make herself move.
Dragging her body, she inched toward the edge of the bed, attempting to fall directly onto the floor.
But after moving just a few inches, she suddenly felt something wrapping around her waist.
Pulling back the blanket, she saw it was a pair of fair, slender arms.
“Don’t… leave me…”
A low whisper came from behind her, but before she could turn over to see, something soft pressed against her back.
She twitched her nose, and a milky, gentle fragrance entered her nostrils—familiar and soothing.
So the person she had been looking for was lying right beside her all along.
Summoning all her strength, she turned over to face that pretty, adorable face.
Warm breath brushed against her cheek, and only then did her tense, restless heart fully relax…
“Clan Leader…”
Her gaze swept over every inch of Moe’s face—the strands of her hair, her eyes, her nose bridge, down to her naturally rosy lips—her pounding heart skipped a beat at the sight.
Her eyes lingered on those thin lips.
Though her expression remained emotionless, her mind was already swirling with wild thoughts.
She had never felt what human lips tasted or felt like.
She had heard from others that they were fragrant, soft, sweeter than expensive pastries, gentler than luxurious down feathers, yet addictively enchanting like a forbidden magic…
She recalled the day Moe married the Demon King, when the two exchanged rings and shared a passionate kiss—back then, she didn’t understand the significance.
But seeing Moe’s lips forced to intertwine and finally surrender, the long-dormant jealousy within her began to stir again.
And now, those lips were right before her.
The bitter fruit born of jealousy lay before her, as if someone whispered in her ear, tempting her to pick it up and swallow it whole.
This fruit was so pink and soft, its glossy sheen alone was enough to ensnare her.
Like a soul-capturing spell, it pulled her reason slowly down into her heart.
Her eyes grew hazy, and without thinking, she gently moved her face closer…
The distance between their lips was barely a paper-thin barrier.
She could even feel the slow, moist breathing of the person before her.
But just as she was about to press fully against those lips, the one sleeping soundly suddenly murmured hoarsely, “Wensha… leave these things to me… anything… just leave it to me.”
Her movement stopped, and the words echoed in her mind.
She had always shamelessly depended on her, yet now she was trying to steal her kiss…
Was she being too despicable?
The gap between their lips widened again.
Lowering her gaze, she curled into Moe’s embrace.
This was the only place where she belonged.
As long as she could stay by her side, that was enough. Anything beyond that—she wasn’t qualified.
***
Morning.
Moe slowly opened her eyes.
She sat up and rubbed her sleepy eyes but found no one beside her pillow.
Startled, she immediately became alert and frantically searched the room for that figure.
Finding no trace, she suddenly felt something warm in her arms.
“So you’re here.”
Wensha was burying her face in Moe’s lower abdomen, sleeping soundly like a baby.
The warm breath tickled Moe’s stomach and even felt slightly wet.
“Ugh… so ticklish.”
Judging by her complexion, she was much better than a few days ago—at least not as pale as the time Moe first saw her, nearly lifeless.
Through the window, Moe glanced at the sun—it was around six in the morning.
If possible, she wanted to stay in bed longer with Wensha, but some troublesome matters were better dealt with early for peace of mind.
She poked Wensha’s delicate, pretty cheek and whispered softly by her ear, “Time to get up.”
Wensha squeezed her eyebrows and the first thing she saw upon opening her eyes was Moe’s gently parted lips.
“Good morning… Clan Leader.”
Her voice was too weak, even more fragile than her breath.
Moe frowned and muttered to herself, “Still too weak. Maybe we should wait a few more days before going…”
Hearing this, Wensha immediately became anxious.
“Clan Leader, I can still get out of bed and walk. If there’s something urgent, I can still…”
Her emotions seemed too intense, and the already weak Wensha nearly fainted as her vision darkened.
Moe hurriedly caught her in her arms, then scolded with some anger, “Enough, enough! Stop causing me trouble. You need to rest a few more days. After that, I’ll take you to see the Demon King.”
“So troublesome… I understand.”
“But why do you want to see His Majesty the Demon King?”
“Because that guy said she wants to see you. I guess she doesn’t have anything good to say! Anyway, wait until you’re fully recovered, and I’ll stall her for a few days.”
“I understand… I’ll listen to you, Clan Leader.”
Moe nodded in satisfaction and then added, “There’s one more thing.”
“What is it?”
Thud—
A crisp sound.
Moe lightly tapped her head, forming a little bump.
But Wensha didn’t seem to feel any pain, which made Moe a little frustrated.
“I told you before, don’t do foolish things, but you wouldn’t listen!”
“Look what happened now—your right hand’s gone just like that! How are you going to take care of me like this?”
Wensha lifted her bandaged right hand and noticed it was broken inside the wrapping.
“Still looking? Your hand’s already been eaten by me!”
“…Clan Leader, if you like to eat, my left hand can do too…”
Thud—
Another crisp sound, louder this time.
“You idiot! Do you really think I’m interested in your hand? Why don’t you cherish your body a bit?”
Seeing Wensha’s weak, exhausted face, Moe wanted to be harsher but swallowed the words back.
“Did you really get a fever and fry your brain before?”
Saying this, she got up from the bed edge and pulled out a box embossed with Blue Magic Inscription from the drawer.
She opened it to show Wensha—inside was covered with frost, a pale hand lying silently within.
“Here it is.”
“I got you an Ice Box, specially for your hand.”
“Th-thank you, Clan Leader…”
Wensha took the box and calmly looked at its contents.
“Don’t worry, I have a way to reattach your hand. I promise.”
That promise seemed to awaken old memories in Wensha.
Relying on Moe made her feel captivated, yet also unwilling.
Lowering her brows, she said once more, “Thank you, Clan Leader…”