Ji Chenxi paused slightly, then gave a half-smile. “In your current state, I could kill you with one hand.”
So don’t spout any big words—cherish this rare bit of kindness he was showing.
The black-haired man acknowledged it with a nod, then lowered his head and drank the warm water Ji Chenxi had brought to his lips.
It was just a little hotter than lukewarm, perfect for swallowing.
Ji Chenxi, still looking down, stared at the throat moving as Chi Zhuo swallowed, his expression twitching oddly. The man looked so disheveled now because of that tampered drink—and yet he could take water from someone else without a hint of defense? Was he not even afraid of suffering again?
Originally, Ji Chenxi had only done this because a person with a fever needed to drink more warm water; he had been fully prepared to be refused. But the man—the protagonist of the original story, usually so calculating—had done something completely unexpected.
Because of that surprise, Ji Chenxi’s gaze lingered on the throat a little longer than necessary.
Even as an alpha himself, he had to admit: Chi Zhuo’s Adam’s apple was beautiful. The pronounced little ridge moved as he drank, and, if he were honest, the sight could even be called… sensual.
Ji Chenxi’s fingers hovered closer, brushing over the fragile curve as if by accident—or perhaps not.
“Your Highness, are you really planning to try and kill me?”
Chi Zhuo, casually wrapped in a black protective suit, lifted his eyelids just slightly, as if asking what the weather was like today—so nonchalant.
Ji Chenxi didn’t withdraw his hand. Instead, he let his fingertips lightly touch the Adam’s apple, feeling the faint tremor there.
His snow leopard was far more expressive. Its curiosity was obvious—it stared at Chi Zhuo like a little cat, wide-eyed and tense.
Afraid the big cat would lean over and lick Chi Zhuo’s throat, Ji Chenxi placed the warm, heavy snow leopard into Chi Zhuo’s arms.
“Hold it tight,” he instructed.
Chi Zhuo obediently hugged the snow leopard close.
Ji Chenxi pressed the snow leopard’s head down gently, making sure it was firmly held and wouldn’t move around. Only then did he casually undo the black decorative bow at his side.
It was a single-sided black bow, matte and dark. Designed to drape elegantly, it was fairly wide and long when untied.
He folded the silk strip, soaked it in hot water, and then wrung it out.
After doing all that, he unfolded the silk strip slightly into the shape he had folded before, then plopped it onto Chi Zhuo’s forehead.
The hot silk bow pressed tightly against Chi Zhuo’s head like a steaming towel.
The heat was intense. Chi Zhuo, whose eyelids had been half-closed, opened his eyes. The dim light of the cave flickered across his vision. The previously blurry figure in front of him seemed a little clearer, yet he still couldn’t make out Ji Chenxi’s hand.
“You’re using this as a hot compress?” His low voice was soft, almost hesitant.
Ji Chenxi nodded. He wasn’t entirely sure if this was the right thing to do, but fever, warm water, and a hot towel… it seemed reasonable.
“It’s very hot.”
Chi Zhuo’s voice had slowed, sounding drowsy, as if he could fall asleep at any moment.
Ji Chenxi, mistaking it for annoyance, furrowed his brows in irritation. As someone caring for another for the first time, he almost gave up.
Then Chi Zhuo added, “Is your hand okay?”
Ji Chenxi let out a quiet chuckle and looked down at his own hand, reddened from the hot water, the fingertips especially sensitive. He rotated it casually and answered, “It’s fine.”
The water was hot but not enough to scald.
After a short while, the silk “towel” stopped giving off steam. Ji Chenxi touched it—it was just warm now. He removed it, planning to reheat it.
His stored water was limited and couldn’t keep up with his quick towel-swapping pace.
He glanced at the remaining water and asked, “Do you want to drink more?”
Before Chi Zhuo could answer, Ji Chenxi gave the answer himself. “Drink some. Later, you won’t be able to.”
He poured a full lid of water for Chi Zhuo, setting it aside to cool. The silk strip he tossed into a container to briefly heat—just a second or two. But as he reached for it, Chi Zhuo’s hand accurately grabbed Ji Chenxi’s arm.
“Your Highness, you don’t need to trouble yourself for me. I won’t die.”
Ji Chenxi gave him a skeptical look. “You don’t look like you won’t die. You look like you’re about to faint any second.”
“Maybe I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
“Unlikely.” Ji Chenxi was certain. Alphas were stronger by nature, but in this freezing night, if Chi Zhuo’s fever made him pass out, he might not wake up at all.
Chi Zhuo’s expression was listless, his eyelids drooping, looking completely drained. Even the hand resting on Ji Chenxi’s arm was about to fall.
Ji Chenxi frowned tightly. With a gentle motion, the hand indeed slid off his arm.
He reached out to touch Chi Zhuo’s forehead, feeling the astonishing heat. He shook his head and sighed, wondering if he had altered the original story too much—was that why Chi Zhuo was about to die now?
Before Ji Chenxi could pull back his hand, Chi Zhuo, clearly still weak, opened his eyes again and asked, “Your Highness… didn’t you want to kill me before?”
“You’re really not afraid of me losing my temper by saying that outright.”
“You’re holy and gentle, Your Highness. I figured you wouldn’t.”
“Cut the mystical talk,” Ji Chenxi muttered, slightly annoyed, though he didn’t act on impulse this time.
“Then… tell me, why the sudden change of heart? Not only did you not kill me, but you want to save me?”
“The night is long. If you die, it’ll just be boring for me alone,” Ji Chenxi replied in his usual casual tone.
“Looks like that isn’t the real answer.”
“Oh? Then maybe I’m just a man of my word. There aren’t many contract partners like me.”
“Any other answers?”
“I’m in a good mood today. Enjoy it—I don’t help people for fun very often.”
With that, Ji Chenxi ignored Chi Zhuo and reached for the silk strip again. But Chi Zhuo tugged at his arm once more. “Your Highness, the water’s hot. You can wait for it to cool a little before wringing it out.”
Ji Chenxi nodded, grabbed a small stick, and lifted the silk strip. The soft dripping of water rang out.
While it cooled, Ji Chenxi kept an eye on Chi Zhuo from the corner of his eye. People said he was gentle, but Chi Zhuo’s actions—so careful, so considerate—were true, unfiltered gentleness. Was the man being burned silly? He was at that rare stage where someone on the verge of death speaks kindly. Maybe even a faint glimmer of recovery, because moments ago, he had been dangerously close to fainting, yet now, with half-closed eyes, he was still talking to Ji Chenxi at length.
After wringing out the silk strip, Ji Chenxi placed it back on Chi Zhuo’s forehead. He then picked up the water in the lid. The night was bitterly cold; the boiling water had cooled slightly, now just hotter than drinkable.
He brought the lid to Chi Zhuo’s lips. “Drink.”
Chi Zhuo drank all the water along the path of Ji Chenxi’s hand. He looked at the figure bathed in the golden glow of the firelight and spoke slowly, his voice drawn out, “You really don’t need to trouble yourself for me.”
“Who said I’m a kind person? Seeing you half-dead like this, I just want to lend a hand,” Ji Chenxi said expressionlessly, speaking words entirely unlike himself.
Sure enough, Chi Zhuo let out a low, muffled laugh at Ji Chenxi’s words.
“Why did you mark me back then?”
Ji Chenxi’s brow twitched slightly. Even now, about to die, he wanted to bring up old grievances?
“Why else? Just a bit of anger,” Ji Chenxi replied. His temper wasn’t the best.
“Because of that bead?”
Ji Chenxi answered casually, already losing some motivation to swap the “hot towel” again. The other really did seem to be in a faint state of recovery, a momentary glow before collapse.
“That bead… does it have… special meaning?” Chi Zhuo asked. He still remembered it as a yin-yang tassel earring. Earlier, when he saw Ji Chenxi, the earring had changed to a koi-glass bead.
For a moment, Ji Chenxi thought he might be just using it as an excuse to talk.
Normally, if Chi Zhuo asked like this in a different state, Ji Chenxi wouldn’t answer. But in this cold, lonely night, with the two of them huddled for warmth, and seeing Chi Zhuo barely alive, Ji Chenxi glanced at him and simply said, “It’s something given to me by someone important.”
“An omega?”
Ordinary friends didn’t need to give something so treasured.
Hearing “omega,” Ji Chenxi didn’t hesitate. “Mm.”
“So… a… beautiful omega, then?”
Ji Chenxi liked hearing that. “Not just beautiful. But in terms of sheer beauty, even all the omegas combined don’t compare to her.”
Chi Zhuo’s vision was still blurry, but he could just make out the smile at Ji Chenxi’s lips. The haze made that smile seem softer, warmer, more tender.
The strong scent of tequila filled the cave. Even in his breathing, Ji Chenxi carried Chi Zhuo’s pheromones, yet he showed no irritation. He asked as if they were simply having a casual conversation, “Want to hear more about that omega?”
Chi Zhuo declined. “No need.”
His refusal was firm, but Chi Zhuo felt that by speaking at all, he had already softened the refusal.
Ji Chenxi felt a flicker of regret. Opportunities to talk about her were rare, and if Chi Zhuo hadn’t looked like he was dying, he wouldn’t have shared at all. Now that Chi Zhuo didn’t want to hear it, Ji Chenxi naturally retracted that little urge to share.
The tequila smell was thick, overwhelming. A single breath brought its aroma. Previously, it had hints of woodiness; now, the smoky, spicy notes were far stronger.
Ji Chenxi’s Adam’s apple moved slightly. His throat burned with a sharp, uncomfortable heat.
The spicy, almost tongue-numbing pheromone scent made him irritably twirl the snow leopard’s tail.
The snow leopard, motionless in Chi Zhuo’s arms, quickly flicked its tail, wrapping Ji Chenxi’s hand tightly.
Realizing the man was beyond saving for now, Ji Chenxi stopped fussing. He sat beside Chi Zhuo, continuing to poke at the fire. Then he felt a weight on his shoulder.
Ji Chenxi glanced sideways and saw Chi Zhuo’s slightly coarse, thick black hair and the little upward curl of his eyelashes.
Fainted?
Ji Chenxi didn’t bother moving him, but his brow soon furrowed again.
Tsk— the scent had grown stronger. But on closer sniffing, there was a faint sweetness, like caramel.
Hello, everyone ヾ(＾∇＾). I hope you enjoyed the story! If you’re feeling generous, please buy me a coffee, share/comment on my translated works! Check out the link below for early chapters. (๑>ᴗ<๑)
