Xia Miao grabbed No. 13, instinctively wanting to take him to the infirmary for treatment. But when she looked up at the terrifyingly injured yet still smiling man, her thoughts suddenly shifted.
She helped him sit down on a chair, then pointed at him and said, "You stay here and wait for me. Don’t move!"
No. 13 watched as Xia Miao hurried out the door, tilting his head in confusion and bewilderment.
Before long, Xia Miao came running back, this time with an armful of medical supplies. She dumped them all on the table, then stared straight at him and said bluntly, "Take off your clothes."
A spark lit up in No. 13’s eyes.
So what those people had said was true—if you gave a girl a gift, she wouldn’t be angry anymore. Not only that, she’d even be willing to sleep with him!
No. 13’s eyes curved into crescents as he swiftly stripped off his upper garments, revealing a firm, well-defined body with sculpted abs. Just as he reached for his pants, Xia Miao quickly grabbed his hand.
"What are you doing?!"
No. 13 smiled innocently. "Taking everything off, of course. That way, I can sleep with you properly."
Xia Miao’s eyelid twitched. "I’m treating your wounds! Who said anything about sleeping?!"
No. 13’s expression instantly dimmed, his enthusiasm deflating as he let out a dejected, "Oh."
The scrapes on his body were easy to treat. In fact, even if left alone, such minor injuries would heal quickly on their own. Xia Miao had also witnessed his incredible regenerative abilities firsthand.
No. 13 couldn’t understand why Xia Miao was wasting time meticulously tending to every wound on his body. But when he glanced up and saw her focused face so close to his, something soft seemed to poke at the flesh and blood inside him, stirring an unbearable restlessness.
He stole another look at Xia Miao, then couldn’t resist reaching out to twist a strand of her hair around his finger. The soft, silky texture fascinated him like a delightful toy, and his lips curled into a smile as a light chuckle escaped him.
Xia Miao ignored his childish antics, but when her gaze landed on his leg, she froze.
No. 13 blinked, assuming the issue lay elsewhere. "Do I still need to take off my pants?"
His eager tone made Xia Miao pause.
"Doesn’t it hurt?" she asked.
"It does," he admitted.
"Then why are you laughing and joking like it’s nothing? Why don’t you ever cry out in pain?"
The young man’s orange hair shimmered faintly in the light, and his blue eyes gleamed with vitality. Though he often came across as unserious, there was an inexplicable innocence about him now, as if he were a blank slate.
"If I cry out, no one will care anyway. Might as well save my energy and let my body focus on healing."
Xia Miao stared at him, unmoving.
No. 13 tilted his head. "Miao Miao?"
Suddenly, she buried herself in his arms, hugging him tightly—though careful not to put pressure on his injured leg.
No. 13 was momentarily stunned, but delight quickly replaced his confusion. If she was hugging him willingly, surely that meant she wasn’t angry anymore!
"From now on, you don’t have to hold back when you’re in pain. If I hear you, I’ll come running to you right away."
His expression faltered, a mix of puzzlement and unfamiliar emotions rising in him. He searched his mental database but couldn’t find a precise term for what he was feeling.
But before he could dwell on it, Xia Miao cupped his face, and out of habit, he leaned in, letting her kiss him.
Even though it was the same person kissing him, the fact that she initiated it filled him with a joy more intense than ever before.
Worried about his injuries, Xia Miao kept the kiss brief, then tugged at his beautiful hair in mock frustration. "Are you an idiot? Don’t let yourself get all battered like this again!"
No. 13 obediently murmured, "Mmm," then pressed his lips to hers again, eager for a deeper kiss. But Xia Miao pushed his face away. "Not until I’ve bandaged your leg!"
Xia Miao couldn’t bring herself to touch the bone-deep wound on his leg, so No. 13 had to tend to it himself.
To him, such a minor injury wasn’t worth fussing over, but Xia Miao’s nervous demeanor made him feel like some fragile porcelain doll.
Being treated like glass didn’t bother him—what did bother him was how timid she’d become, afraid to even touch him!
Without so much as a flinch, No. 13 swiftly cleaned the wound and wrapped it in gauze. When he looked up again, Xia Miao had her back to him.
Her body was stiff, as if she couldn’t bear to glance at his mangled flesh.
How strange.
He was the one who’d been hurt, yet she was the one having a visceral reaction.
"Are you done?" Xia Miao asked stiffly.
He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her from behind. "Done!"
Xia Miao nearly suffocated in his embrace, struggling free just enough to peek at his now-bandaged leg. Only then did her tense body relax slightly.
No. 13 felt something entirely new. No matter how severe his injuries, they’d never fazed him—he lacked the instinctive fear of wounds or blood loss. But Xia Miao’s presence seemed to fill that void, supplying the fear he’d never known.
Gently tracing her cheek with his fingers, he followed the curve of her face and murmured, "You’re scared when I get hurt."
"Of course I am!" Xia Miao glared up at him, meeting his ocean-blue gaze. "If you’re hurt, you bleed. Pain is one thing, but what if it gets infected? What then?"
No. 13 actually pondered this before answering, "Amputation?"
"Are you insane?!" Xia Miao spun around to face him, her petite frame radiating authority. "You idiot, take better care of yourself!"
No. 13 shrank back slightly. "Even if I get hurt, no one would be sad about it."
"I would!" Xia Miao’s eyes reddened—whether from anger at his recklessness or his detachment from all human connections, she wasn’t sure. "Can’t you tell I like you?!"
The ever-smiling mask on No. 13’s face finally cracked, leaving him staring at her in stunned silence, as if she were some miraculous phenomenon.
It was like standing at the edge of a black hole in the vast cosmos—a void that devoured everything, leaving only darkness. Yet against all odds, a tiny speck of light had somehow survived alongside it.
He didn’t understand.
He couldn’t comprehend it.
Beyond comprehension.
