Chapter 50 The beauty's slender, white waistline rippled like a startled fish...

Ying Shixue looked at her legs and let out a soft "ah".

"Don't worry too much," a warm, large hand rubbed the back of his head, intending to comfort him, but the fluffy, soft touch was so nice that it couldn't help but linger and rub a few more times before pulling away.

"It's only temporary."

Ying Shixue pursed her lips and said nothing more.

The curtains were not drawn, and the lights were on. He leaned against the headboard and thought for a while: "What time is it now?"

“You’ve been unconscious for more than two days,” he said, wringing out the wet towel from the basin and starting to wipe Ying Shixue’s face, beginning from her forehead.

He didn't mention how the entire villa was in chaos when he was brought back, with sophisticated instruments being brought in like a flowing stream, and doctors coming and going, giving him a thorough examination from head to toe, not even missing a single hair.

"Young Master..." The doctor hesitated, unsure how to address the unconscious man on the bed.

He had a vague premonition when he saw the exorbitant medical fees, but he was still surprised when he actually met the man. On the one hand, he was concerned about the secret relationship between the two wealthy brothers, and on the other hand, he was shocked by how poor the young master's health was.

He carefully considered his words, explaining each piece of data on the test report: "You see, the red blood cell count, hematocrit, hemoglobin concentration, and volume are all far below normal..."

"His blood and qi deficiency is too severe, and several indicators are very strange... The young master is only in his early twenties; if he doesn't...

The doctor stopped himself in time, not saying what he was about to say.

Before leaving, he glanced once more at the barely noticeable bulge on the bed and sighed softly.

"Extreme intelligence is bound to bring harm, and deep affection is not long-lasting." He had heard rumors about this person, about his extremely strong personality and spirit, and his overly weak body.

He's already damaged his physical health in his early twenties, yet he continues to work at a high intensity. If this continues, his body will be completely worn down in just a few years.

Like a beautiful samurai sword, its tip is sharp and gleaming, but the blade is brittle; while it wounds others, it will also break itself.

Ying Shixue was completely unaware of what was happening. He squinted as he enjoyed the face-wiping service, his mind completely blank from the process.

"Hmm, where are we now?"

"A villa outside the city."

"I want to go back to Zijing."

"Wait until you recover."

"Then have Fang Zhi come to see me. He's my current assistant."

"I will handle the group's affairs during this period."

The handkerchief was damp and warm, and felt very comfortable against his face. He was already feeling so comfortable that he was about to doze off, but his requests were interrupted one after another, and he instinctively sensed that something was wrong.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she looked up, meeting Song Mingli's dark eyes.

The intensely saturated black, the extremely prominent brow bones, the elegant and refined demeanor, and the agile and strong physique—all these elements, combined with the dangerous and oppressive aura emanating from the black clothing, created an indescribable, restrained sense of awe.

Ying Shixue looked down at him and suddenly realized that he was serious when he said those words.

"What are you doing..." He was still somewhat uncertain, the coldness of the chains on his wrists piercing through the soft cloth beneath his skin. He hesitated and asked, "Aren't you going to prevent me from contacting the outside world?"

Song Mingli continued to wipe him with great tenderness, lifting his chin with two fingers. The man's long, strong fingers and snow-white, pointed chin formed a stark contrast, seemingly just to make it easier to wipe his neck.

"I told you, I'll wait until you're healed."

Before she could finish saying "I'm not hurt," Ying Shixue was silenced by his gaze.

He hesitated for a moment, unsure of what the other person meant. Song Mingli had already rinsed the handkerchief in another basin and reached out to lift the hem of his shirt.

Ying Shixue quickly grabbed his hand to stop him from moving: "What are you doing?"

"You can't take a bath too often right now because you'll catch a cold, but if you stay in bed for too long, wiping yourself down will make you feel more comfortable."

“I know,” he didn’t really understand the other person’s logic, “but I can do it myself…”

Ying Shixue paused.

He belatedly realized that back then in the lab, he was wearing a white shirt and black trousers, and his body was sticky from the chemicals.

Now, I wear comfortable and soft loungewear, and my body feels dry and clean.

Song Mingli then smiled, slowly straightened up, and looked down at him: "Who do you think changed your clothes or took your bath?"

I've already seen everything, both what I should and shouldn't have seen.

As if the finest Xuan paper had been stained with vermilion, Ying Shixue's face flushed red from her neck to the roots of her ears.

Before he could even utter a "you...you...", Song Mingli ruthlessly pressed him against the headboard, lifted his shirt, and exposed his entire chest to the air.

Ying Shixue's pupils contracted, and before she could even open her mouth to rebuke him, the rolled-up hem of her shirt was brought to her lips again.

Song Mingli said casually, "I'll carry it myself."

That's so strange.

It's really so strange...

Ying Shixue's hands, hanging limply at her sides, gripped the corner of the blanket weakly, her eyelashes trembling with shame.

In the dimly lit bedroom, a beautiful woman with black hair and snow-white skin leaned against the headboard, obediently biting the hem of her shirt. Her fair and delicate chest, from her collarbone to her waist, trembled slightly in the cool air.

She must have really been bullied badly, because a thin red tinge appeared at the corners of her eyes.

The exposed skin was like white porcelain in a dark room, or a pearl in the deep sea, emitting a soft, shimmering light in the dim light.

A large hand, several shades darker than his skin, moved and wiped his flat stomach and thin waist. The handkerchief was smaller than his palm, and from a distance, it didn't look like someone was wiping his body, but rather like someone was deliberately playing with him.

The large hand slowly moved upwards, and when it touched something, Ying Shixue suddenly let out a soft "uh".

Song Mingli stopped politely, but didn't move his hand away: "Did I hurt you?"

A thin mist filled Ying Shixue's eyes, like pools of water, and her voice trembled: "You have calluses on your hands."

He still had the hem of his clothes in his mouth. By now, the small piece of cotton fabric had become wet in his mouth, but he still obediently kept it in his mouth, his upper body bare, making it easier for the other person to move on him.

They're incredibly well-behaved.

Song Mingli pushed his back teeth together, his cruel and sadistic impulses stirring within him, causing every nerve in his body to boil.

It's been so many years since I've touched him so intimately.

He sighed silently.

But that's not enough, far from enough.

The handkerchief was soft enough, but that area was too sensitive. He moved it, and Ying Shixue whimpered again.

"Don't... Don't touch there."

Because of the cloth in his mouth, even his voice was muffled and unclear. Song Mingli pretended not to hear clearly, wiped his mouth again with the handkerchief, and his thumb accidentally scraped hard across the mouth.

The beauty's slender, white waist bounced slightly like a startled fish, but he grabbed her waist and pressed her back down onto the bed.

The difference in physical strength was too great; Ying Shixue's little resistance could be easily crushed.

Ying Shixue's unbound right hand rested on his forearm. He was too embarrassed to say that place, and looked at the person who had abused him with pleading eyes through his tears.

He had no idea that this attitude would only backfire; no man could remain calm under such a gaze.

A fire was burning somewhere. Song Mingli adjusted his posture, keeping his tone steady: "Baby, what's wrong?"

"You've finished rubbing your waist and abdomen, now it's time to rub your chest, isn't that right?"

He spoke with an air of righteousness, holding a soft cloth in his hand and pretending to wipe it.

Were those few blows really an accident? Her weakened body couldn't support deep thinking, and Ying Shixue pondered in a daze.

If he really said something wrong, that would be too unfair to him... Ying Shixue pursed her lips tightly, trying to stop herself from making any more strange noises.

Song Mingli then lingered on his chest for a few more minutes, changing the handkerchief twice. Finally, unable to delay any longer, he reluctantly touched him one last time, then turned him around and wiped his back.

The rest went much more smoothly. Although it was still itchy, Ying Shixue bit down on the fabric and didn't make a sound.

It brushed over the back of the neck, shoulders, lower back, and thighs, one spot at a time.

His large hands left indentations and red marks on the snow-white skin, and the rough calluses on his hands caused a shiver to run through him.

The beauty instinctively tried to bury her body deep into the cup-shaped bed to avoid it, but that posture inadvertently caused her waist to sag even lower, revealing an astonishingly rounded and full curve.

Ying Shixue couldn't see because her back was turned, but the person behind her had a dangerous and suppressed glint in their eyes, like a beast that had caught its prey and was turning it over and over, searching for the most tender spot to bite.

After wiping everything down, Ying Shixue breathed a sigh of relief as if she had finally accomplished something important. She propped herself up on the bed with her elbows and sat up again.

Song Mingli smiled and kissed him: "Tired?"

Ying Shixue's consciousness was indeed starting to drift off again, but he still managed to remember what he hadn't finished.

"Well, during the two days I was away from SK, I was..."

“I’ll use your phone to send you a message saying you’re sick, and ask Fang Zhi to compile all the documents and send them to my email so I can process them all and then reply to him.”

When Fang Zhi received the instructions, he did think about it for a while, but then he thought about Ying Shixue's extremely poor health and her pale face that morning. It was very possible that she couldn't hold on and collapsed on the hospital bed, and that she was too badly unable to come to the company.

Furthermore, since it was indeed President Ying's private account and email address, and the decision sent back was very much in line with Ying Shixue's usual style, his last bit of doubt was dispelled.

Song Mingli held him in his arms, rocking him gently and patting his back as if he were soothing a toddler to sleep.

That position was very comfortable, surrounded by a reassuring and familiar aura. At first, Ying Shixue struggled to ask about the chains, but later she gradually lost herself in this embrace.

As drowsiness washed over him, Ying Shixue vaguely felt Song Mingli's large hand gently caressing his cheek.

“You’re too weak,” Song Mingli said in a low voice. “You need more sleep.”

He seemed to be kissing him again, but Ying Shixue could no longer feel it; he had fallen completely asleep.