Chapter Forty-One: Li Shishi at Death’s Door

"Xiao Fei, no, don't!"
At the very moment Xiao Fei pulled the trigger, Li Shishi cried out loudly, struggling to rise and pull Xiao Fei aside.
But the bullet had already been fired. With a loud bang, it struck the pillar of the stage and embedded itself deeply. Everyone, upon seeing this, could not help but feel their hearts race with fear. Had the bullet pierced through Tian Muqingyi's skull, he would have been dead without a doubt. Even Tian Muqingyi broke out in a cold sweat, dumbfounded, unable to move.
Li Shishi was far more lucid than Xiao Fei at this moment. After all, it was the Republic period, and in such a situation, it was absolutely forbidden to kill Japanese people wantonly. Even if they were at fault, it was not permitted to execute them in broad daylight—especially since Liu Ruyan was still in their hands.
"Sister Shishi, why are you doing this? They beat you so badly—shouldn't they be killed?" Xiao Fei asked, utterly perplexed.
"Little brother… listen to me… now is not… the time for killing…" Li Shishi replied with difficulty.
Xiao Fei's heart ached anew at the sight. He could only temporarily spare this group of little devils. However, though their lives would be spared, punishment was inevitable. Xiao Fei delivered a flying kick, sending Tian Muqingyi tumbling from the second floor to the first. "Get out! If I see you again, I'll slaughter you all!"
Groaning, Tian Muqingyi climbed to his feet and addressed Xiao Fei, "Xiao Fei, just you wait. We will avenge this!"
With that, the group fled in a flurry of panic.
Xiao Fei gathered Li Shishi into his arms and hurried into the room. "Sister, hold on. I'll heal your wounds now."
Qin Tianxiang knew only Xiao Fei could save Li Shishi. She did not follow them in, lest she interfere with Xiao Fei's efforts—even knowing the two would inevitably be physically close. At times like this, her feelings were secondary; after all, she was very fond of Li Shishi herself.
Xiao Fei laid Li Shishi on the bed, gazing with heartache at the blood flowing from her chest. Such a beautiful woman, forced to endure such pain—what man could witness it and not feel sorrow?
"Sister, forgive me," Xiao Fei said, gently untying Li Shishi's blouse.
Li Shishi instinctively tried to shield herself, her cheeks flushed. Though her reputation was that of a courtesan, she had never known a man. She often flirted with Xiao Fei, but when faced with reality, she became shy and embarrassed—especially in front of Xiao Fei.
Xiao Fei understood her reservations, but her wound was severe. Without immediate bandaging, it would fester and worsen. He explained, "Sister Shishi, I mean no offense. Your injury is serious—it must be treated right away."

Li Shishi seemed to struggle for a long moment before finally releasing her hand, allowing Xiao Fei to proceed.
Without further hesitation, Xiao Fei quickly unfastened her blouse. Her wound was located between her breasts, a cut inflicted by Tian Muqingyi's sword. Xiao Fei had to remove her chest wrap—the undergarment worn by women in that era, which served the same purpose as the modern brassiere.
When Xiao Fei opened her blouse, he thought only of saving her. But to treat the wound, he had to unfasten her brassiere—a part of Li Shishi's body that had fueled his imagination countless times. Now, it was right before him, within reach. As a grown man, how could he not be affected?
Yet, life was paramount. Xiao Fei quickly suppressed his thoughts, and with trembling hands, gently unfastened the buttons of her undergarment. With a soft snap, the straps sprang loose, and Li Shishi's tender, jade-like breasts bounced free, spirited as lively rabbits or wild horses untethered.
He had to admit, these were the most mature and alluring sights he had ever seen—even in his previous life, he had never encountered such temptation.
Xiao Fei swallowed hard, closed his eyes with difficulty, tore off a strip of cloth, gently lifted Li Shishi, and wrapped the bandage around her back, carefully drawing it around and over again…
But just then, Li Shishi suddenly embraced Xiao Fei, startling him. At this moment, Li Shishi's upper body, exposed before him, was almost entirely unshielded.
"Sister Shishi… you…" Xiao Fei stammered.
"Xiao Fei, there's no need for trouble. I know better than anyone how badly I'm hurt. It aches, it's cold—let me hold you, just for a moment," Li Shishi said through her tears.
For years, Li Shishi had carried the burden of both national and family hatred, wandering from place to place, walking through the night, fighting and killing, or drifting among men in a role she despised. She lived exhausted, longing to pause, to rest, craving a strong arm to support her—even if only for a fleeting moment of tenderness.
Despite her tough exterior, Li Shishi's heart was more fragile than anyone's. She had never found a shoulder to lean on, not even briefly, until she met Xiao Fei. Despite the age gap, despite knowing nothing about him, every glance, every gesture from him lingered indelibly in her heart.
Today, she was gravely wounded, teetering on the edge of death. She did not want to leave any regrets. As her life threatened to end, she wanted to reveal her heart to the man she loved. More than anyone, she yearned for love and to be loved. She was, after all, a twenty-six-year-old woman—blessed with a figure and face others could only dream of, yet denied the ordinary joys of romance. She was the world's luckiest, and perhaps its saddest, woman.
When Xiao Fei held her tightly, Li Shishi smiled. Though she could not blossom in full beauty, to die in the arms of the man she loved, death held no fear.
"Sister, please, let me treat your wounds, or it'll be too late," Xiao Fei pleaded urgently.
"Xiao Fei, to die in your arms is my greatest happiness," Li Shishi said, each word falling with a tear of joy onto Xiao Fei's shoulder.

Outside the door, Qin Tianxiang heard their exchange and could not help but weep as well. Even though someone was vying for her husband, she felt no anger at all.
"No, Sister. I must save you—I'll never let you die. Hurry, there's no time," Xiao Fei insisted, ignoring Li Shishi's protests and laying her on the bed to bandage her swiftly.
It was Xiao Fei's cry of "there's no time" that jolted Li Shishi's memory. She suddenly recalled that her dear friend Liu Ruyan was still in the hands of the Japanese.
"Ah, Xiao Fei, listen to me—don't worry about me now. Ruyan is still captive; you must save her!" Li Shishi urged anxiously.
"No, I don't care about Ruyan or anyone else right now. I'm saving you!" Xiao Fei declared stubbornly.
Xiao Fei had only glimpsed Liu Ruyan's beautiful silhouette, never her true face. Naturally, his feelings for Li Shishi were far deeper.
Li Shishi was moved by his words but could not bear the thought of Liu Ruyan suffering at the hands of the invaders. She always suspected a great secret was hidden within Ruyan, and her intuition told her it might be related to Xiao Fei. So, Ruyan must be rescued.
Yet, what troubled Li Shishi most was that Liu Ruyan had been taken into the Hongwu Dojo, a place crawling with Japanese sword masters. If Xiao Fei, impulsive and alone, rushed in, he would surely suffer—perhaps even be sending himself to his death.
What should she do? Li Shishi was torn, and could not help but sob quietly.
"Sister Shishi, what's wrong? Why are you crying again? Did I hurt you?" Xiao Fei asked, quickly withdrawing his hand from her wound—only to find himself beside Li Shishi's towering peaks.
At the moment of gentle contact, Xiao Fei shivered, instinctively squeezing—and to his surprise, his whole hand could not encompass them.