As evening fell, the moon climbed into the sky, its cool, clear light like water, spilling beside the Wooden House in the Immortal Sect courtyard and shining onto the edge of Ji Wangshu’s pillow.
After a few breaths, the door opened, and Ji Wangshu immediately grew nervous.
This was the first time in his life that a blind person had ever applied medicine to him.
And she was a woman at that.
His feelings at this moment were difficult to describe, with both nervousness and a faint, indescribable flutter in his heart.
Mu Zhiming raised her eyes and looked over, only to see a blurry figure on the bed.
“Even this close, I still can’t see clearly…”
How was she supposed to win the Sect Grand Competition half a year from now like this?
She sighed, casually closed the door behind her, turned her gray-white pupils toward the room, and gently flared her nostrils.
That strange, unfamiliar floral fragrance drifted into her nose.
Her fingers lightly brushed across the doorframe as a reference for distance, then she moved with graceful steps toward the bed, felt along its edge, and slowly sat down, quietly “looking” at Ji Wangshu.
Her hand naturally reached toward his collar, just as the two of them had done when they played together as children, helping him take off his clothes.
Ji Wangshu felt her warm fingertips brush across his skin, like a feather gently caressing his neck.
A tingling sensation spread from his spine throughout his body, causing every muscle to tense instantly as he clenched his teeth and desperately tried not to make any strange sounds.
Yet those slender fingers continued to caress his neck and shoulders.
‘This wooden-headed girl is way too unfair!’
Who could have imagined that an exquisite fairy with an icy exterior was currently caressing his skin with all ten fingers, their touch as soft as a flowing veil?
After a moment, he finally could not endure it any longer, and a muffled groan escaped his throat.
“What… are you touching?” Ji Wangshu endured it with all his might, doing his best to make his voice sound natural.
Mu Zhiming’s hand stopped in midair.
She also sensed that something was wrong. Why had she been feeling around for so long without finding the edge of his collar?
“I’m… helping you take off your clothes.” Her voice carried a hint of confusion.
“Otherwise… how am I supposed to apply the medicine?”
“I already took my clothes off myself.”
Those slender fingers moved away from Ji Wangshu’s body, and as the tingling sensation faded, he breathed a sigh of relief, his voice muffled against the pillow.
Before he knew it, the pillow had already been soaked with sweat in one spot.
“You can just apply the medicine.”
Mu Zhiming fell silent for a moment before withdrawing her ten fingers.
“…Oh.”
After all, things were different from when they were children.
When Ji Wangshu was young, his clothes would always get dirty whenever the two of them played in the mountains, and his hands would be covered in mud. Whenever that happened, she would take the initiative to help him remove his upper clothes and have him wash himself in the river.
When they were children, the two of them had been inseparable; now that they had reunited after so many years, there was a difference between men and women.
She flared her nostrils and caught the bitter scent wafting from the medicine jar on the table, picked it up and placed it beside her waist, then dipped the
pad of her right index finger into the medicine.
She immediately turned her head and extended the fingers of her left hand, letting her fingertips land on his Butterfly Bone before gently sliding downward until they reached the protruding Hidden Injury.
Ji Wangshu’s muscles instantly tensed, and he buried his head even deeper into the pillow, the tips of his ears burning hot.
‘What the hell are you getting nervous about, Bubble Tea Pot!’
He scolded himself inwardly, but this delicate, ticklish body still betrayed him.
His toes at the foot of the bed curled slightly, while his hands lying flat unconsciously tightened their grip on the bedsheet.
“…Don’t tense up so much.”
Behind him, Mu Zhiming’s red lips parted slightly, and her voice reached his ears.
Her voice was inexperienced yet gentle, like a spring breeze brushing past his ear, making him instinctively want to relax.
‘Reporting to the commander, this is too difficult!’ Ji Wangshu thought.
It was all because Mu Zhiming’s face was so close behind him, as was his bare upper body.
Even the warm breath escaping her lips could reach his neck.
Under the double pressure of her voice and delicate fingers, Ji Wangshu’s mind had already drifted far away.
He bit his lip, took several deep breaths, and only then did the muscles on his body finally relax.
Mu Zhiming’s left hand caressed the wounds on his back, rubbing toward both sides and creating a gap, while the fingertips of her medicine-covered right hand immediately followed.
Her movements were very gentle, and she deliberately lingered for a moment each time, lightly rubbing with her index and ring fingers, like a breeze passing through a valley and leaving behind a trace of coolness in the wilderness.
With every rub, knead, and lift of her delicate fingers, they brought with them a cool, sticky sensation.
But for Ji Wangshu, it was another matter entirely.
His Hidden Injury had accumulated over many years and was concealed beneath the scars, so applying too little pressure was completely useless.
Moreover, this wooden-headed girl was simply taking far too much care with him.
Her movements were too light and too gentle, and every time those slender fingertips skimmed across his pores, they brought an almost imperceptible sensation.
“The movements… can be a little harder.” His brows furrowed tightly, and his trembling voice squeezed out from his throat.
“…Oh.”
Mu Zhiming nodded slightly, and her fingers unconsciously increased their pressure.
The fingertips coated with medicinal paste gradually pressed deeper into the scar, exerting force as though kneading a piece of dough that had been left to rise for a long time.
Ji Wangshu sucked in a sharp breath, his muscles tensing again as he bit his lips until they bled, while the hand gripping the bedsheet tightened even further.
A night bird suddenly cried outside the window, its call sharp and brief.
Mu Zhiming tilted her head and listened for a moment, her hands stopping briefly before continuing.
She caught the scent of blood drifting from Ji Wangshu’s mouth and stopped her hands. “…Does it hurt?”
“I’m fine.” Ji Wangshu’s voice was muffled against the pillow, carrying an obvious tremor.
However, the cold sweat constantly pouring from his body and the soaked bedsheet still betrayed him.
It was clearly the middle of winter, yet he was bare-chested, so how could he feel so unbearably hot?
Mu Zhiming remained silent for a moment and slowly spread the excess medicinal paste around the scar.
Until her delicate fingers touched a patch of warm wetness.
It was blood.
She had still used too much force, and a wound that had endured for years could not withstand such treatment, splitting open and leaking blood.
“I’m fine, keep going.” Ji Wangshu, who was lying down, suddenly noticed that she had stopped and spoke in a muffled voice.
This Hidden Injury was a hundred times more painful than he had expected.
The pain was so intense that he could barely speak, yet he still tried his best to make himself appear calm.
‘Why is this Demon Sect so cruel?!’
Listening to his slightly trembling voice, Mu Zhiming turned her head toward
the foot of the bed.
Although she could not see very clearly, she could vaguely make out that the neatly arranged bedsheet was now pulled crookedly by Ji Wangshu’s pale toes.
She chuckled twice. Even like this, he still called himself fine?
Mu Zhiming remembered how, when they were young, Ji Wangshu would show off whenever he learned something new in front of her, only to embarrass himself because his skills were lacking, yet he would still pretend to remain calm in front of her, saying things like how he would definitely make her see him differently someday.
‘Brother Wangshu really is just like he was when he was young.’
‘The same stubbornness, the same gentleness.’
Thinking of this, her brows and eyes relaxed, and the corners of her lips curled up slightly.
“…Turn over.” Her voice had become several degrees warmer.
Ji Wangshu obediently turned over, staring intently at the ceiling and not daring to look at her.
Mu Zhiming’s fingers reached over once again, resting on Ji Wangshu’s lower abdomen, and her delicate brows immediately furrowed.
Why was there still a trace of Spiritual Power within this dantian?
It had even reached the Qi Refining Mid-Stage.
She remembered that Ji Wangshu should not have had any cultivation aptitude.