Chapter 36 Of course I know you won't harm Momo
Although it was his finger that was bitten, He Cong felt as if it was gently pricked by a feather. The slight itchiness made his originally cold face look a little dazed.
But before he could feel it carefully, Shang Youqing took his finger out from under her lips.
Shang Youqing pressed hard on the tip of his bitten and bleeding index finger. He Cong's knuckles accidentally touched and slipped onto the cool back of Shang Youqing's hand. He only moved slightly, but Shang Youqing pressed harder and raised his eyes to warn him, "Don't move."
He Cong pursed his lips again, thinking, how could someone bite someone's finger until it bled without explanation and then be so tyrannical and unreasonable as to not allow them to even move? On the surface, he calmly agreed, "I understand."
He really didn't move, leaving everything to Shang Youqing.
Shang Youqing coaxed He Zhimo, who was still sobbing and crying in pain at the crook of her neck, into her forearm, and then directly pulled He Cong's finger, which was still bleeding, to the cub's mouth.
"Young Master..." Shang Youqing subconsciously blurted out the name, but suddenly paused for a second. He remembered something and somewhat stiffly imitated the way he had heard He Cong call He Zhimo not long ago, and called out in a low voice, "Mo Mo?"
He Zhimo opened his red and swollen eyes in confusion, his little mouth slightly open, as if he quickly smelled something, his little hands instinctively hugged the thing that was fed to his mouth and sucked off the blood beads on it.
During this time, Shang Youqing gently wiped the tears from the little guy's face, and when he was sure that He Zhimo had swallowed the blood bead, he immediately pushed He Cong's hand away.
He Cong: “…”
She had a sudden feeling that she was being used and discarded. Just as she was about to say something cold to her, she saw Shang Youqing throw away his hand and then lower his head to bite her own fingers.
He Cong frowned, not caring what Shang Youqing would say anymore. He raised his hand and clasped her wrist, using his metacarpal bone to block her lips as she opened her mouth to bite. Her soft lips and teeth pressed against the skin of his tiger's mouth, and the slender lines of his wrist slowly tightened.
He Cong's expression was stern, and he asked her stiffly, "Do you want to feed Mo Mo with blood? Just use my blood, and don't bite yourself."
Shang Youqing's teeth, which were about to bite him, slid slightly across the skin of his palm, which suddenly blocked her way. Her light red lips were about to open, and she left a shallow tooth mark on the back of his hand with a hint of punishment. The corners of her eyes were slightly raised, urging him on.
"Let go of your hands and don't make trouble."
He Cong's face showed no emotion. His eyes stared at her lips coldly, and he insisted: "If your bite hurts, why don't you use my blood?"
The implication seemed to be that since her bite hurt so much, she should just bite him and not hurt herself.
Shang Youqing finally realized that he had hurt him by biting him, so he had to patiently explain to him, "Your blood alone can't be used. Let go first."
After a pause, He Cong let go of his hand without saying a word.
The veins on the back of his hand were faintly bulging, and it seemed that the soft warmth from Shang Youqing's bite still lingered in the tiger's mouth.
He restrained his eyes and moved them away from her thin red lips, lowering them slightly, watching Shang Youqing bite her own finger and feed the bloody fingertip to the cub.
It was obvious that she had just let He Zhimo suck a mouthful or two of his blood before moving his hand away, but now she was indulgently allowing the little cub to hold her fingers and suck them again and again. Looking down at the little cub's facial expression, it was also very gentle, and there was no intention of struggling at all.
Until He Zhimo grumbled a few times, as if he was finally fed, the crying gradually stopped, and he fell back into Shang Youqing's arms in a daze, his little hands softly grabbing Shang Youqing's collar, and his mouth slightly opened from time to time, as if he was still calling "Mom".
Shang Youqing touched the boy's still hot forehead and saw that his mouth was dry and cracked. He looked up and ordered He Cong, "Go get me a glass of water."
He Cong said "yes", took the cup and walked out of the room, just in time to meet Butler Chen who was waiting in the corridor outside.
When Butler Chen saw Mr. He holding an empty cup, he considerately stepped forward to take it. "Sir, would you like some water? I'll go right away—"
Before he finished speaking, He Cong's hand firmly grasped the empty cup and did not let Chen Guanjia take it away. He interrupted him and said, "Shang Youqing asked me to pour water."
Butler Chen: “……?”
When He Cong brought the full cup of water back to the room, he saw that Shang Youqing had just changed the sleeping He Zhimo into a clean set of clothes, and a lot of burnt feathers fell out beside him.
Shang Youqingteng naturally stretched out his hand towards him. He Cong tightened his jaw slightly and handed the cup of water to her.
Then he saw that after Shang Youqing took the cup of water, he still had no intention of avoiding him. The faint light condensed on his fingertips jumped into the cup of water like fine gold.
Before picking up He Zhimo to feed him, Shang Youqing suddenly seemed to sense the gaze of He Cong standing next to him. He looked up and made eye contact with him. After thinking for a moment, he told him, "It's nothing else. It's spiritual water that can help He Zhimo recover his strength quickly."
The little guy had been crying all day with a high fever, and now he had no energy left. However, he still had to work hard to complete his first tail molting. She had to help feed him some spiritual water so that He Zhimo would have the strength to molt his tail.
She thought He Cong was worried about what she had fed He Zhimo, so she explained it to him.
He Cong became displeased after hearing this and retorted in a deep voice, "Of course I know you won't harm Mo Mo."
Shang Youqing was puzzled.
But she didn't have the energy to guess what he was thinking at the moment. She lowered her head again and concentrated on feeding the little cub in her arms with spiritual water in small sips.
During this time, He Cong stood beside her with a sullen face, silently tidying up the scattered feathers on the crib, picking up every little feather that fell from the cub and storing them neatly in a small box next to her.
The cub's throat was small and burning with pain, so it even swallowed water very slowly. Although Shang Youqing had been feeding it carefully, He Zhimo still choked a few times. His coughing made his face red, and he sobbed with a flat mouth, "Mom, don't drink..."
Shang Youqing took the handkerchief that He Cong handed over in time, gently wiped away the few drops of water that the little guy choked on, and coaxed him slowly: "Just drink a few more sips, okay?"
He Zhimo pouted in grievance, but still opened his mouth obediently, endured the burning pain in his throat, and swallowed two mouthfuls of water with great effort.
After drinking, her eyes were filled with tears again. She raised the back of her little hand and rubbed her eyes a few times, then arched her whole body into Shang Youqing's neck, mumbling in discomfort in a half-conscious state.
Shang Youqing continued to inject healing spiritual energy into the little guy. She couldn't completely relax until He Zhimo's body temperature dropped.
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