Baozhu looked at his extended right hand – it wasn’t the bandaged, burned one. Like the rest of him, it appeared thin with prominent blue veins beneath pale skin, but the sinews and bones were clearly defined, looking extremely powerful. She knew how cold this hand was, having been forced to touch it once when he was unconscious during his illness.

She just hadn’t thought that he himself was so concerned about it – concerned enough to actually flee because of it.

Seeing Wei Xun’s ashamed yet fearful expression, all her resentment melted into pity. She hadn’t expected someone with such a proud nature to confess so honestly. Everything she had imagined before was a misunderstanding – she had been angry for nothing. Baozhu wondered: If I just leave him hanging and ignore him, will he run away in fright?

Though she thought this, she ultimately couldn’t bear to leave him standing there with his hand extended.

Baozhu said softly: “I know you’re ill, but that’s not your fault. I… I don’t find you repulsive.” Her voice grew quieter and quieter, like a mosquito’s buzz, as she slowly extended her hand toward him. Her cheeks uncontrollably flushed red, as if lightly brushed with rouge in a wine-flush makeup style.

Even through the sleeve, she could feel his cool temperature seeping through the fabric, but this time it was gentle, not like the steel-hard, cold, merciless claw from before.

Wei Xun waited with extreme patience until she lowered her guard and placed her entire right hand in his palm. Only then did he flip his wrist and swiftly grasp her hand, then like peeling bamboo shoots, he rolled back her sleeve to expose her entire wrist and back of hand, revealing the bruise marks on her fair wrist.

Startled, Baozhu tried to pull back and break free but couldn’t. Held firmly in his grasp, she became somewhat panicked and cried out: “You… you dare trick me!”

Wei Xun lowered his head to examine closely, seeing a dark bruise in the shape of a claw print extending from her pulse point to her wrist. The bruise’s edges had already spread into pale yellow outlines, particularly striking against her flawless, delicate skin – it was definitely his handprint. This was the secret she had been hiding in her sleeve for days.

Though his grip was firm, it was also gentle, his fingers pressing on some acupoint that made her arm numb and weak. She tried to pull away again but still couldn’t break free.

Both knew how this injury had occurred. Baozhu had kept it hidden because she didn’t want him to know she had personally visited that attic room, and besides, it was accidental and not worth dwelling on.

Now faced with irrefutable evidence, Baozhu could only turn her head away and, mimicking his and Huo Qi’s tone, spoke with the bold spirit of a martial world heroine: “I already said your illness isn’t your fault. We’re all martial artists roaming the rivers and lakes – where wouldn’t we get some superficial injuries? This grudge can be set aside.”

Wei Xun remained expressionless and said resolutely: “It cannot!”

He naturally knew that if Shisan Lang hadn’t rescued her in time, if this grip had been completed, her hand would have been crushed to bone fragments and permanently disabled, never again able to dip in dew and write beautiful, upright characters.

He had endured countless beatings and suffered through many illnesses – these commonplace, insignificant matters, when they befell her, became completely unbearable. Even more hateful was that he usually settled grudges before nightfall, but this time he had done it himself, with no way to seek justice for her. This grudge he absolutely could not set aside in his heart.

“Does it still hurt?” Wei Xun asked hoarsely in a low voice. Baozhu scoffed: “It’s been days, I’ve long forgotten… Ah!!”

Before she finished speaking, Wei Xun pressed down hard, then slowly kneaded each bone, searching for any signs of torn tendons or fractures.

Baozhu’s tears immediately welled up. She didn’t really feel there was anything worth crying about – she had simply been prone to tears since birth, easily moved to weeping by the slightest stimulus, and once she started crying, she couldn’t stop. It was precisely because she loved to shed pearls like this and had such a round, jade-like appearance that her parents gave her the pet name Baozhu.

She knew what Wei Xun was doing, as imperial physicians examined injuries the same way. But then there was always someone – Father, Mother, or her brothers – to hold her in their arms, stroking and coaxing to ease her pain. Now she had to face this ruthless young thief alone in the deep night, not daring to cry out loudly.

Wei Xun steeled his heart against Baozhu’s trembling and tear-filled eyes, thoroughly examining her right hand to confirm there was no tendon or bone damage before releasing her.

Having just made bold declarations only to immediately cry pitifully, Baozhu felt greatly embarrassed. She thought this fellow had pretended to be pitiful, using her sympathy to set a trap and deceive her – truly full of schemes.

While wiping her tears with her sleeve, she angrily wanted to scold him. But with her noble upbringing, her vocabulary contained no particularly harsh curses. After holding back for a long time, she finally squeezed out: “You’re a devious and vicious bad lynx.”

Wei Xun sighed deeply, feeling powerless. He thought there probably wasn’t a second sentence in the world as pitiful, adorable, and amusing as this. Smiling bitterly, he said: “I’ve never claimed to be a good person.”

He knelt on one knee, exposing his most vulnerable back and neck to potential attack, and said: “Old Yang upstairs is listening to you cry and going frantic. Hurry up.”

Baozhu was startled and quickly looked up at the Reflection Hall’s window. Sure enough, she saw a figure anxiously pacing back and forth in the dim candlelight, not daring to make a sound. Her face heated up with embarrassment. Though she didn’t feel she had done anything shameful, she was truly embarrassed. Staring at Wei Xun’s back, she suspected he had another trick to toy with her and hesitated, not daring to move.

While waiting for her upstairs, Yang Xingjian had inadvertently overheard fragments of conversation. Knowing that as a subject, he should act deaf and mute in such situations, when silence suddenly fell below, he didn’t know what had happened. Worried that Baozhu might suffer, he finally couldn’t bear it anymore. Grabbing a heavy inkstone, he poked his head out the window and whispered: “Fangxie? Fangxie?”

Wei Xun’s senses were far keener than ordinary people’s. He clearly detected Yang Xingjian listening above but said nothing, making Baozhu feel even more embarrassed, as if her whole body was on fire. At this point, arguing about propriety was meaningless. Steeling herself, she walked over and climbed onto Wei Xun’s back, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Wei Xun carried her on his back, took a breath of clear air, and leaped up to the second floor in one bound. Grasping the bracket under the eaves with one hand, his fingers locked like steel hooks, suspending both their weights in mid-air while his other hand steadily delivered her to the window. Yang Xingjian, afraid of dropping Baozhu, threw down the inkstone and frantically came to assist.

After she entered the room, Wei Xun didn’t follow inside but crouched at the window and said: “I’m going to get Shisan Lang.”

He turned to leave, but Baozhu couldn’t help blurting out: “You…”

Wei Xun turned back, gazing at her, waiting for her to finish her instructions.

Baozhu steadied herself, her eyes containing concern and worry as she softly instructed: “All three of you be careful.”

Wei Xun nodded and responded seriously: “Alright.” Then he leaped up, swept onto the rooftop, and hurried toward his rendezvous point with Huo Qi.

Who would have thought that with a slight crack underfoot, he inexplicably stepped through a roof tile. Since he had mastered his skills and begun roaming the martial world as a youth, such carelessness had never occurred.

Wei Xun was puzzled, wondering if he had recently eaten so well following her that his body had grown heavier?

There was also a strange feeling: though he had clearly left her at the Reflection Hall, her faint elegant fragrance still lingered persistently, like clouds and mist, gently enveloping his entire being, as if he were still carrying a warm, soft person on his back even running here.

He had set her down, yet hadn’t truly let go.

In the deep quiet of night under a moon like a pearl, Wei Xun felt momentarily dazed and stood frozen, unable to move.