Volume One, Chapter 19: New Year’s Kiss 2

Beneath the photo frame, a line of small characters caught Feng Xi’s attention as she picked it up to examine it closely.

“Taken on the Champs-Élysées, blending with the dust of the world.”

In the photograph, Gu Qingchen’s eyes curved like crescent moons, his face radiating a blissful smile. The young Miss Ye leaned gently against her lover’s broad chest, her arms wrapped around him, every fiber of her being exuding sweetness and contentment.

The photo captured a moment of unspoken happiness between them—simple, pure, and warm enough to melt away all the coldness in the world.

Feng Xi lightly traced the face of Miss Ye, a faint bitterness stirring deep within her heart.

The gap between people seemed as vast as clouds and mud—wearing the same face, yet living entirely opposite lives.

Miss Ye was a cherished daughter of the heavens, raised in a gilded cage, her features serene and magnificent.

Feng Xi, by contrast, lived a life of constant struggle, like a stray cat lurking in the shadows, peering enviously at others’ happiness.

Gu Qingchen stirred awake and, seeing the photo frame in Feng Xi’s hands, furrowed his brow slightly. “I want some water.”

Startled, Feng Xi set the frame back on the table and removed the towel from Gu Qingchen’s forehead. “Wait a moment.”

She turned and went downstairs to fetch water, wearing a fitted rose-patterned sweater that clung to her figure. With every step, she swayed gracefully, the rose at her waist swaying gently, stirring something deep within Gu Qingchen’s heart.

When Feng Xi returned with the restorative soup, Gu Qingchen was already up. Somehow, he had made his way to the window without his cane in sight.

His upper body was bare, moonlight tracing the contours of his muscular forearms, his well-defined chest seeming to hold infinite strength, while his slender waist deftly balanced that power. Each line exuded a uniquely masculine vitality—both natural and intense.

Feng Xi’s breath caught.

More perfect than any anatomy model in a textbook.

Like a marble sculpture come to life.

Carrying the cup, Feng Xi approached Gu Qingchen and noticed the photo frame turned face down on the table as she passed the bed.

Gu Qingchen did not take the cup but leaned against the window frame, extending his arm to gently grasp Feng Xi’s hand.

His eyes were clear and unblemished, gazing at hers with a dreamy intensity.

Feng Xi wanted him to drink the warm restorative soup, but Gu Qingchen suddenly moved, effortlessly drawing her entire body into his embrace. Her cheek brushed against his chest, which burned as if scorched by fierce flames, radiating lingering heat.

Despite the lingering fever that flushed his face and clouded his gaze, Gu Qingchen’s arms were remarkably strong, holding Feng Xi tightly within their confines. She could distinctly feel the undeniable strength and the waves of warmth emanating from him.

“Mr. Gu, you’re going to spill the soup.”

Only then did Gu Qingchen release her, take the soup, and drink it down in one gulp before casually tossing the cup onto the floor.

Fortunately, the cup wasn’t glass and spun twice before coming to rest.

Feng Xi caught Gu Qingchen’s arm to steady him, as his legs were still too weak to support his weight.

Taking advantage of the moment, Gu Qingchen’s fingers lightly brushed the corner of Feng Xi’s mouth, his eyes hazy. “The corner of your mouth has healed completely.”

Feng Xi nodded softly, “Yes.”

Before she could say more, Gu Qingchen suddenly bent his head, nearly brushing her lips. Feng Xi leaned back instinctively, but he caught her slender waist with a gentle grip.

This was an entirely different price to pay!

And he was drunk now.

“Mr. Gu, do you know who I am?”

Suddenly, a faint light crept up through the treetops, like the gentle strokes of night’s brush. Then, a brilliant firework burst in the sky, adorning the silent night with vivid splendor.

Gu Qingchen smiled softly. “Happy New Year, Feng Xi.”

He bent down and tenderly pressed his lips to hers—soft as petals—as if savoring the most delicate beauty in the world. His large hand swept across her thin back, pulling her closer into his embrace.

Their lips met and parted, leaving Feng Xi breathless as she melted softly into his arms, lost in a haven of warmth.

Gu Qingchen breathed shallowly, supporting Feng Xi’s arm as he reached into his pocket and produced a brocade box.

Feng Xi took it gently and slowly lifted the silk covering to reveal a set of acupuncture needles—exquisitely crafted silver dragon needles from the Qing dynasty. Each needle bore intricate dragon carvings, shimmering with a clear, gentle silver light under the lamp, like dragon scales hidden in ancient legends beneath the abyss, subtly revealing their mystery and nobility.

Feng Xi was overjoyed and looked up to say, “Thank you, Mr. Gu.”

Gu Qingchen smiled in reply but soon felt his eyelids grow heavy; his strength faded, and he collapsed onto the soft bed.

As she helped him down, Feng Xi touched his forehead—it was burning hot, and a flush was spreading across his body.

She removed Gu Qingchen’s pants and turned his wrist to take his pulse.

The situation was grave—his injured leg twitched, and his fever was dangerously high, risking convulsions.

Feng Xi dipped a cotton swab in alcohol, lit it, and warmed the silver needles over the flame.

She located the acupuncture points and swiftly inserted the needles.

His left thigh bore several scars; the newly grown skin was faintly pink, winding like a serpent—a frightening sight.

Feng Xi decided to place several needles on the thigh as well.

It was fitting—the silver needles he had bought himself, now used on his own body, making full use of their purpose.

All through the night, Gu Qingchen’s fever would not subside. Feng Xi remained by his bedside, wiping him with alcohol and checking his temperature until dawn. Only by five in the morning did the fever finally break, and Feng Xi’s anxious heart settled.

She sank into a deep sleep on the sofa beside the bed.

When Gu Qingchen awoke, he felt extraordinarily light and invigorated. He pulled back the covers but realized he was naked, hastily covering himself again.

Surveying the room, he saw Feng Xi sleeping soundly on the sofa, wrapped in a coat with her head covered.

He carefully reached for the loungewear from the bedside drawer, intending to put on his pants, only to find his left leg completely immobile.

Glancing at the scattered cotton swabs and acupuncture needles on the table, a thought seemed to surface.

Gu Qingchen tried to wake Feng Xi by calling her name three times, but she didn’t stir. His throat ached, making it hard to call out, so he pressed the bedside call button.

Soon after, Wu Feng appeared, rubbing sleep from his eyes and carrying Gu Qingchen’s cane.

Holding a cup of water, Gu Qingchen sighed, “Switch to the wheelchair—I can’t stand up.”

Wu Feng wheeled in the chair and helped Gu Qingchen settle into it. “Why can’t you stand?”

Gu Qingchen pondered, “Not sure. Maybe it’s the fever from yesterday.”

He nodded toward Feng Xi sleeping on the sofa. “You… forget it. Call Aunt Wang up here.”

He had intended to ask Wu Feng to carry Feng Xi to the bed but reconsidered.

Aunt Wang arrived and, seeing Gu Qingchen was fine, exclaimed, “Oh dear, you frightened me last night. Luckily, there was a doctor here. Huh? Where’s the doctor?”

Wu Feng pointed to the sofa. “Over there.”

Gu Qingchen said, “Aunt Wang, please help get her onto the bed.”

Aunt Wang wiped her hands and gently turned Feng Xi over, surprised, “Goodness, the doctor’s lips are so swollen!”

Gu Qingchen raised his hand to cover his face and maneuvered the wheelchair out of the room. Wu Feng followed. Feng Xi was light; Aunt Wang would be able to carry her herself.

As they descended the stairs, the roar of a car engine echoed through the courtyard.

It was Gu Xun and Madame Zhou arriving.