The gaze was almost tangible, scorching Mu Xi’s cheeks until they burned.
Ye Lan paused, her eyes darkening with a hint of savoring: “Then… your essence?”
Mu Xi steadied the panic in her eyes, then abruptly lowered her gaze, her long lashes trembling like butterfly wings, concealing the turmoil beneath. She couldn’t respond, nor did she know how to respond.
It had been a choice made out of necessity to keep Ye Lan alive. That process had been filled with forced intimacy and unbearable shame, but under Ye Lan’s probing gaze, everything took on a different meaning.
Ye Lan didn’t let her escape.
She extended the arm that could still move, slowly yet with no room for refusal, her pale fingers gently hooking under Mu Xi’s delicate chin.
The icy fingertips touched warm skin, sending a shiver through Mu Xi.
She was forced to lift her head, meeting the deep, night-dark phoenix eyes of Ye Lan. The injury hadn’t diminished the aggression in those eyes; rather, the pallor from blood loss added a breathtaking fragility to her.
“Little Xi, look at me.”
Ye Lan’s voice was low, carrying her usual unquestionable dominance. Even now, when she was so weak that even lifting her hand was an effort, the controlling intent in her tone remained undiminished. “Tell me, why did you save me? Why?”
Mu Xi’s heart was squeezed tightly by the question, almost unable to breathe.
‘Why?’
‘Because I hate you to the bone and didn’t want you to die so easily?’
‘Because if you died, who would this barely-surviving life of mine cling to?’
‘Or because… at the edge of death, seeing you so fragile and helpless, a corner of my heart actually stirred with a trace of reluctance?’
Shame and chaos. Countless thoughts churned in her mind, each one filling her with shame and confusion.
She looked into Ye Lan’s eyes, seeing inquiry, scrutiny, and even a fragile anticipation.
‘What did she expect her to say?’
‘That she loved her?’
‘No. She couldn’t do that. At least not now.’
But during the time Ye Lan had been on the verge of death, she had truly felt fear.
Not the fear of ending up in a miserable state after Ye Lan’s death, but a more bewildering panic, as if her pillar was about to collapse.
She opened her mouth, her throat unbearably dry.
In the end, she avoided those most complex and darkest thoughts and chose the most direct reason, one that sounded like an excuse.
“I… I don’t want you to die.” Her voice was as faint as a mosquito’s buzz, carrying a grievance and dependence she hadn’t even realized herself. “You promised… you’d make me fall in love with you.”
She paused, as if needing to muster courage for the second half. Her voice dropped even lower, yet the words reached Ye Lan’s ears clearly.
The moment the words fell, a blazing, astonishing light erupted in Ye Lan’s eyes, as if it would ignite and melt Mu Xi entirely.
She stared at Mu Xi, as if confirming every tremble in her words, every subtle expression.
Then, she let out a low laugh.
The laughter tugged at the wound on her chest, drawing out a suppressed grunt, her face paling further. But the smile spread like wildfire in her eyes, burning ever brighter.
“Good… very good…” She panted, the trailing note carrying a satisfied sigh.
Ye Lan’s gaze was like a hook, tracing Mu Xi’s brows, her eyes, the tip of her nose, finally lingering on her still-swollen lips, her eyes darkening.
She took a deep breath, as if gathering strength, then spoke word by word, clearly and forcefully, each word like an oath carved into her bones: “I won’t die.”
Her gaze was scorching, filled with unshakable will and mad possessiveness. “I’ll make you willingly… belong to me alone.”
She watched Mu Xi’s body tremble slightly at her words, watched the lingering panic and bewilderment in her eyes, and a dominant, wild smile curved at the corners of her lips.
After speaking, Ye Lan tried to raise her hand, wanting to caress Mu Xi’s cheek, to brand her expression deep into her heart.
However, her arm rose only halfway before falling limply from exhaustion, landing on the soft bedding with a soft sound.
A hint of barely perceptible frustration and unwillingness flickered across Ye Lan’s brow.
Mu Xi watched her fallen hand, watched the slight trembling of her pale fingertips.
Almost instinctively, without any thought, her hand had already reached out, gently covering the back of Ye Lan’s hand.
Ye Lan’s hand was very cold, carrying the weakness of the wounded, the skin so thin she could clearly feel the shape of the bones beneath.
The moment their palms touched, Ye Lan’s fingers tightened abruptly, grasping Mu Xi’s hand in return.
Her movement was swift, her grip surprisingly strong, tight enough to cause Mu Xi slight pain.
It wasn’t a gentle response; it was more like an instinctive claim and confinement, declaring that even with severe injuries, she would never let go of what belonged to her.
Mu Xi’s heart skipped a beat again, her fingertips firmly trapped in Ye Lan’s cold yet powerful palm.
The force wasn’t so much a hold as a grip.
Her distinct fingers clasped tightly around Mu Xi’s hand, as if trying to crush her bones, yet oddly without actually hurting her, just conveying a declaration that allowed no resistance.
Mu Xi froze, instinctively holding her breath.
She could clearly feel the texture of Ye Lan’s palm, sensing the strength lurking beneath the morbid cold, strength that shouldn’t belong to someone gravely wounded and near death.
This hand had once ruthlessly seized her throat, had once traced every inch of her skin leaving humiliating marks, and had once pulled her from the mud when she was at her most desperate.
Complex emotions surged like a tide, washing over her exhausted nerves.
Hatred, fear, dependence, and a flutter she didn’t want to admit.
Ye Lan watched her changing expression, watched the panic and resistance flickering in her eyes, and the curve of her lips deepened, carrying a smugness and satisfaction of having everything under control.
Her gaze turned sharp again, as if pinning Mu Xi in place.
“You see,” Ye Lan’s voice dropped even lower, hoarse with an almost cruel gentleness, “even like this, you still can’t escape.”
Her breath brushed across Mu Xi’s cheek, carrying the slight bitterness of medicine and her own icy aura, making Mu Xi flinch involuntarily.
‘Escape?’
‘Where could she even escape to?’
Li Xin and Little An were both dead. In this apocalypse, besides clinging to this severely injured woman before her, she had no other choice.
The so-called obedience, the so-called attempt to love, it was merely the only piece of driftwood in her despair.
But Ye Lan didn’t seem satisfied with such an answer.
What she wanted was never forced submission.
Ye Lan gazed at Mu Xi, her eyes as if soaked in ink, too thick to dissolve.
She held Mu Xi’s hand, her thumb unconsciously stroking the delicate skin of Mu Xi’s hand, the motion carrying an almost lingering tenderness, a stark contrast to the dominance in her words.
“Little Xi,” she called again, her voice carrying a hint of seduction, “what were you thinking when you fed me porridge?”
Mu Xi’s heart leaped.
‘What was she thinking? She hadn’t dared to think anything, only wishing to quickly end that suffocating eye contact.’
“I… wasn’t thinking anything.” She lowered her eyes, her voice faint.
“Oh?” Ye Lan chuckled softly, clearly unconvinced. “Seeing me so weak, did you think… an opportunity had come?”
Mu Xi’s head shot up, a flash of misunderstood shock and grievance in her eyes: “I didn’t!”
Ye Lan’s gaze locked onto her, seemingly discerning the truth of her words.
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