The two of them left the medical clinic, each carrying a package of tonics to strengthen yang and nourish the kidneys.
Yan Xiaohan left a message at the local money house for the Prince, informing him of a clue about White Dew Powder in Xi Shan Village, instructing them to go to Jingzhou first while he would stay a few more days to verify.
With intense palpitations, a pain like ten thousand ants gnawing arose at his heart, immediately spreading throughout his body. His hands and feet began to involuntarily tremble, muscles spasming, his body falling forward, quickly caught by Fu Shen.
He felt the person in his arms trembling continuously and asked softly: “How do you feel now?”
Yan Xiaohan clung to him like a lifeline, teeth chattering, mumbling: “…Cold.”
Fu Shen wrapped one arm around him, his other hand provocatively wandering over his body, fingertips skimming lightly across sensitive areas like the nape of the neck and waist, slipping under his clothing, lingering on the cool, dry skin. Delicate kisses fell on Yan Xiaohan’s neck and ear root.
He seemed to comfort, yet also to seduce, whispering in a passionate, hoarse voice by his ear: “It’s okay, I’ll make you warm soon.”
The man ignited a small flame at his dantian, growing increasingly intense, yet unwilling to immediately submit. Those hands, callused but extraordinarily nimble, brushed across several acupoints on his body, massaging and kneading with moderate pressure, loosening his stiff muscles like a massage.
A soothing comfort was like a few drops of sweet rain falling in an overwhelming scorching drought, insufficient to extinguish the pain but allowing him a momentary reprieve.
Yan Xiaohan did not respond, as if lost in thought. Fu Shen stretched out his hand and patted him on the back: “Meng Gui?” “Hm?” He seemed to be suddenly pulled out of a certain scene, his gaze focusing from a daze to a thin line: “What did you say?” Fu Shen stared at him intently, noticing something was wrong with Yan Xiaohan, and reached out to grab his wrist pulse: “What’s wrong?” Yan Xiaohan, for some reason, actually dodged. Fu Shen was used to his cooperation, missing the grab: “Why are you dodging? Stretch out your hand for me to see.”
