Chapter 53: Could You Please Not Slap My Face

Inside the room, Lan watched Tianfang quietly. The events of the day played out vividly in her mind, and tears welled in her eyes.
“You fool, why did you save me?” she choked out, reaching out to gently touch Tianfang’s pale face, her heart twisting in pain. Guilt gnawed at her. If she hadn’t thrown a tantrum, she would not have been captured by Lin Tian, and Tianfang would not have been gravely wounded in his bid to rescue her.

Qingluo stood to the side, watching Lan’s sorrowful expression. With a soft sigh, she quietly slipped out of the room.

Now, only Lan and Tianfang remained in the silent room. Lan sat beside him, gazing at his unconscious form, a dull ache throbbing in her heart. His youthful, delicate face still bore a trace of innocence, stirring emotions in Lan that she barely understood. She stroked his pallid cheek, and slowly, a smile broke through the tears on her face.

“From now on, wherever you go, I’ll follow you,” she murmured, lowering her head to rest gently upon his chest.

Night passed quietly. The next morning, Lan woke from her deep sleep. Seeing Tianfang still unconscious, she rose, picked up a basin, and left the room.

In the courtyard, Elder Xuan Yin watched Lan, a subtle smile on his lips. Facing him, Lan felt her cheeks burn and her delicate earlobes flush crimson, making her look all the more lovely. If not for her knowledge that the elder understood Tianfang’s condition, she might have wished the ground would swallow her up.

“Good morning, Elder.”

“Good morning,” Elder Xuan Yin replied with a smile, his gaze appraising Lan like a potential granddaughter-in-law.

“Is there something you need, Elder?” Lan asked shyly.

“Oh, nothing—just go on with your business,” he said hastily. As he watched Lan’s hurried departure, his smile widened; in his eyes, Lan was the perfect choice.

Lan is a fine girl, and her background is respectable, he thought. But what does the young master truly feel? Being wise with age, Elder Xuan Yin had seen at a glance that Lan harbored feelings for Tianfang, but he could not be sure of Tianfang’s heart in return.

Still, recalling how Tianfang had risked everything and fallen into darkness to save Lan, the elder surmised that he must care deeply for her.

But this is a matter for the young—best to let it run its own course. With a chuckle, Elder Xuan Yin left, beaming. Moments later, Lan returned with the basin, relieved to find the elder gone.

“Senior sister, your own injuries haven’t healed yet,” Qingluo hurried over and took the basin from Lan’s hands. “Let me do it.”

“My wounds are minor, it’s nothing,” Lan insisted, quickly reclaiming the basin and entering the room. Qingluo followed, but upon seeing Lan unfastening Tianfang’s shirt, she blushed and turned away.

“Take care of yourself, senior sister. I’ll be outside,” Qingluo stammered, then fled to the courtyard. After a moment’s thought, she slipped back to gently close the door.

Inside, Lan opened Tianfang’s shirt, revealing a web of crisscrossing wounds—sword cuts covering his entire body. To protect Lan, Tianfang had shielded her from every strike. Seeing the gruesome injuries, Lan’s eyes reddened as she carefully cleaned them, terrified of causing him pain.

On the third day, Tianfang finally awoke from his coma. As he opened his eyes, gazing at the familiar surroundings, the haze of confusion faded. Then, seeing Lan asleep on his chest, he stared in stunned silence for a long time.

After a while, Tianfang cautiously lay back down. His body felt stiff after so many days, but he dared not move, afraid to wake Lan. Her faint fragrance drifted over him, stirring his senses and making his heart race.

Almost absentmindedly, he reached out toward her, his fingers brushing a lock of her black hair. Instantly, as if scalded, he withdrew his hand. After a moment, he tried again. This time, when his fingers touched the silken strands, he let them linger.

Suddenly, the door creaked open and someone entered. The abrupt sound startled Tianfang, guilty as a thief, and in his panic, he woke Lan.

“What is it?” Lan sat up, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Tianfang lay there, feigning nonchalance, but his face was scarlet.

“Oh, you’re awake!” Lan’s delight was immediate, but soon gave way to concern. “Why is your face so red? Do you have a fever?” she asked, reaching out to feel his forehead. The gesture was so natural, so unselfconscious, that Tianfang could only blush deeper.

“He’s just scared, that’s all,” Qingluo said from the doorway, her eyes fixed on Tianfang. She had seen everything—the way Tianfang withdrew his hand when she entered.

“Senior sister, he was touching you while you were asleep!” Qingluo huffed, indignant. How dare he take advantage of her kindness and care!

Hearing this, Tianfang’s face darkened. The accusation was so blunt, its implications so unspeakable, that he was at a loss.

Lan stiffened, her hand slowly lifting from Tianfang’s forehead. Her expression went blank, and Tianfang’s heart trembled—he remembered all too well the lessons of the past. Looking at her with innocent eyes, he raised his hands to cover his face. “Please… not the face.”

Suddenly, Lan giggled. She gently pulled Tianfang’s hand away, cupping his hands in hers and pressing them to her own cheek. Looking into his eyes, she asked with deep feeling, “Do you like me?”

The touch of her smooth skin sent a strange sensation through Tianfang. Staring at her exquisite face, her voice echoing in his ears, he nodded dumbly.

“I can’t take you two anymore!” exclaimed Qingluo, exasperated. She spun around and left the room.