128: Ruolin's care

After an unknown number of days, when the Star Dou Great Forest welcomed another dawn, sparse light struggled to penetrate the thick canopy, casting mottled shadows on the cliff.

Mo Yuhan slowly opened his eyes.

This time, his consciousness was no longer the chaotic state of being forcibly dragged out of a mire, but rather like breaking free from a cocoon, bringing with it a long-lost clarity and a sense of weakness.

The intense pain still lingered, a continuous low hum in the background, but it no longer tore at his heart or dominated everything as it had before.

He saw Instructor Ruo Lin, who was slumped at the edge of the stone bed, in a light sleep.

Her face was resting on her arm, and her messy hair obscured half of her tired face.

Even in her sleep, her brows were slightly furrowed, as if she were bearing an invisible heavy burden. Her once soft and full lips were now cracked and peeling, devoid of color.

Beneath her eyelids were heavy dark circles, silently testifying to her sleepless nights during these days.

Her tattered robe, whose original color was no longer discernible, hung loosely on her body, and the neckline, due to her posture, was slightly open, revealing a small section of her beautifully sculpted collarbone and a patch of delicate yet abraded skin.

The faint light of dawn outlined the contours of her profile, a softness mixed with a startling fragility, as if she had been weathered by wind and frost.

Mo Yuhan's heart felt as if it were tightly clutched by an invisible hand; a complex mix of bitterness, gratitude, guilt, and an indescribable stirring, like a tide, instantly engulfed his chest.

He had never seen Instructor Ruo Lin looking so haggard, so... vulnerable.

The water-attribute instructor who was always gently smiling and gracefully composed at Canaan Academy had become like this for him.

He could even smell the faint scent of herbs, sweat, and a faint hint of blood mixed together on her.

He wanted to lift his hand, wanted to brush away the messy hair from her cheek, wanted to touch her chapped lips...

But his remaining left hand was incredibly heavy, and even moving a finger was extremely difficult.

He could only watch her quietly, greedily, almost ravenously, as if to deeply imprint this scene before him into the depths of his soul.

As if sensing his gaze, Ruo Lin's long eyelashes fluttered a few times, and she slowly opened her eyes.

Her bloodshot eyes held the daze of waking, but when they met Mo Yuhan's clear gaze, they instantly lit up with immense surprise.

"Yu Han! You're awake!"

She abruptly sat upright, her voice trembling slightly with excitement, accompanied by a thick nasal tone.

Overwhelming joy dispelled her fatigue. She instinctively reached out, wanting to touch his forehead to check his temperature, but just as her fingertips were about to touch his skin, her movement suddenly froze.

Mo Yuhan's gaze was fixed directly on her neckline, which had opened even wider due to her sudden movement.

That patch of snow-white, delicate skin, like warm mutton fat jade in the faint morning light, and a shallow, dark red mark, scratched by a tree branch, snaked from below her collarbone into the deeper shadows, carrying a breathtaking, unadorned allure.

Time seemed to halt for a fraction of a second at that moment.

Ruo Lin's cheeks flushed instantly, turning a crimson even more vibrant than the morning glow.

The blush quickly spread to her ears and neck.

She snatched her hand back as if she had been burned, frantically grabbing her tattered robe and pulling it tightly together, trying to conceal that alluring skin.

In her hurried movements, her knuckles turned slightly white from the effort.

She quickly lowered her head, her watery blue eyes darting away, not daring to meet Mo Yuhan's gaze, her long eyelashes trembling violently like startled butterfly wings.

"I... I'll go get some water..."

Her voice was as thin as a mosquito's buzz, filled with an unprecedented embarrassment and panic. She almost fled to her feet, stumbled, leaned on the cold cliff face, and quickly walked towards the small stream not far away.

That slender but somewhat frail figure, due to fatigue, showed a sense of helpless disarray.

Mo Yuhan watched her almost fleeing figure, opened his mouth, but his throat was too dry to utter any sound.

A rush of heat uncontrollably surged to his cheeks and ears, and his heart pounded like a drum.

That fleeting glimpse of her just now was etched clearly in his mind like a brand, more impactful and soul-stirring than Yue Mei's breathtaking body in Crescent Moon Lake.

It was Instructor Ruo Lin's true self, unguarded and scarred... A complex emotion, a mixture of immense gratitude, intense guilt, and a certain unfamiliar stirring, wrapped around his heart like a vine, making him almost unable to breathe.

The wind from the cliff, carrying the unique damp and slightly earthy scent of the Star Dou Great Forest, brushed against Mo Yuhan's cheek and also stirred a few strands of Ruo Lin's damp hair scattered over her shoulder.

She was kneeling in front of Mo Yuhan, carefully unwrapping the layers of bandages that were Binding his left upper chest, near his shoulder.

Those bandages were torn from the relatively clean inner layer of her robe; now they were stained yellowish-brown with seeping tissue fluid and faint medicinal stains, emitting a unique scent mixed with herbs and blood.

As the last layer of blood-stained cloth was gently removed, a hideous scar was exposed to the cool air.

The wound had mostly healed, with dark brown scabs forming along the edges, but in the deepest center, tender new flesh was still visible, like a twisted purple centipede, extending from below the collarbone all the way to the shoulder blade.

This was the final mark left by Yue Mei's deadly claw attack; even with Instructor Ruo Lin's meticulous care, the Dou King expert's Dou Qi erosion still left an indelible trace.

The skin around the scar was an unhealthy reddish hue due to long-term bandaging and medicinal irritation.

Ruo Lin's gaze was intently fixed on the scar, and in the depths of her watery blue eyes was an unresolvable heartache and solemnity.

She picked up a soft, broad leaf, moistened with stream water, and with movements as gentle as a feather's touch, carefully wiped away the medicinal and sweat stains around the wound.

The cold stream water met his hot skin, and Mo Yuhan's body trembled almost imperceptibly.

"Don't move."

Ruo Lin's voice sounded, much deeper than usual, with an undeniable hoarseness.

She deliberately avoided Mo Yuhan's burning gaze, which was fixed on her face. Her long eyelashes were lowered, casting a small fan-shaped shadow beneath her eyelids, as if all her attention was concentrated solely on the scar.

Mo Yuhan froze as instructed, but his gaze could not move away from Ruo Lin's face, which was so close.

From this angle, he could clearly see her smooth forehead, her upturned nose, and her slightly pale lips, which were subtly pursed in concentration.

Her breathing was light, carrying a faint, fresh scent like grass after rain, brushing against his chest, bringing a subtle tingling sensation.

As she leaned over to wipe, her loose robe, which had long lost its restraining effect, inevitably sagged downwards. From his elevated perspective, a breathtaking expanse of white shadow and a deep, alluring cleavage flashed into his vision like a fleeting glimpse.

Boom!

An indescribable heat instantly surged from his lower abdomen to the top of his head.

The Xuan Huang Purple Flame in his Dantian seemed to be invisibly provoked, giving a sudden jump, and a trace of scorching energy uncontrollably shot out along his meridians, causing the skin temperature around his chest scar to suddenly rise by several degrees.

"Mm..."

Mo Yuhan let out a suppressed groan from his throat, his cheeks instantly scalding hot, even his earlobes turning blood-red.

He abruptly closed his eyes, trying to dispel the breathtaking image in his mind, but his heart pounded wildly in his chest, almost leaping out.

Ruo Lin's wiping motion paused slightly.

She clearly felt the sudden rise in skin temperature beneath her palm, as well as the young man's instantly disordered and rapid breathing.

She seemed to realize something, and her fingers, clutching her robe, instinctively tightened, her knuckles turning slightly white. Her already flushed cheeks spread like a fiery cloud, even her small earlobes dyed an alluring pink.

Her lowered eyelashes trembled even more violently.

"Instructor... I... I'll do it myself..."

Mo Yuhan's voice was dry and hoarse, filled with deep embarrassment and a trace of barely perceptible panic. He tried to raise his remaining left hand to take the broad leaf.

"Quiet."

Ruo Lin's voice suddenly rose a little, carrying a forced sternness, but the end of her sentence had an almost imperceptible tremor.

She didn't look at him, but instead, with a hint of stubborn force, pressed the broad leaf onto the center of his scalding scar. The cool stream water brought a brief sting and a sense of relief.

"This wound..."

She took a deep breath, as if calming her own turbulent emotions, her voice lowering again, filled with a lingering fear and solemnity, "One more inch... and..."

Her words trailed off, as if she couldn't bear to utter the terrible outcome.

Her fingertips, pressed against his scar, carried a pure and gentle water-attribute Dou Qi, like a cool stream, carefully probing into the depths of the wound, trying to soothe the lingering burning pain and the hidden ache caused by the Dou Qi erosion.

Her body, due to the intense emotional fluctuations and the output of Dou Qi, trembled almost imperceptibly.

The cool touch from her fingertips and the gentle flow of Dou Qi, like an electric current, instantly coursed through Mo Yuhan's entire body.

The feeling was not just the comfort of healing, but also an indescribable stirring that reached the depths of his heart.

He could clearly feel the coolness and softness of her fingertips, feel her body's slight trembling from restraint, and feel her lingering fear and... concern, which she tried to hide but still leaked out in her voice.

A strong impulse surged within him. He wanted to grasp the hand pressed against his chest, wanted to pull her into his arms, wanted to tell her... tell her what?

Gratitude? Guilt?

Or... that nascent emotion, still unclear even to himself, quietly growing amidst their shared life and death?

But he did nothing.

He just lay stiffly on the cold rock, eyes closed, feeling the stark contrast between her cool fingertips and his scalding scar, feeling the silent and ambiguous distance between them, like a taut violin string.

The sound of the wind on the cliff seemed to become the only restless background noise in this confined space.