Chapter 11: On the Face

Pei Zhanxi’s fingers still unconsciously rested on Wang Yan’s soft palm.

“But…”

“Money… I’m not giving you any,” Wang Yan added casually.

Hope instantly shattered.

Pei Zhanxi’s eyes darkened. The faint “good guy” filter that had just formed in her mind shattered into pieces, sending her impression of Wang Yan plunging to new lows.

“W-what do you normally eat?” Wang Yan suddenly changed the subject, his tone casual.

Pei Zhanxi was still lost in her grief over “losing both her money and hope,” and didn’t immediately respond.

“Hm?” Wang Yan noticed her hesitation, leaned slightly forward, practically brushing against her ear, warm breath brushing her sensitive earlobe and eardrum. He repeated in a low, clear voice: “I asked… what do you normally eat?”

“U-uh…” A sharp tingling sensation shot from her ear through her entire body. Half of her went weak, her mind fuzzy, barely able to think.

“I… instant noodles…” she whispered, her voice tiny and fragile.

“Anything else?” Wang Yan’s breath lingered near her ear.

“Ste… steamed buns…” her voice grew even smaller. Her body trembled unconsciously.

Wang Yan frowned. Just these?

Though her little stash of money wasn’t much, it shouldn’t be…

“Why are you saving so much money…?” he asked, his tone softer, though his proximity remained close.

Pei Zhanxi, dizzy from his presence and questions, almost blurted out: “I… I’m not saving… I spend it all on…”

Suddenly, she jolted, realizing the words she was about to say!

She forcefully swallowed them back, tightly shut her mouth, lowering her head, using silence as her strongest resistance.

Wang Yan saw her stubborn yet pitiful stance and didn’t press further.

He straightened, creating some distance.

“From now on,” he gestured to the pile of confiscated bills by the pillow, “come eat at my place. Consider this your meal money.”

Pei Zhanxi lifted her head in disbelief, staring at him and then the money, subconsciously biting her lip. Her gaze was complex, filled with grievance.

She shook her head slightly, subtly resisting the offer.

“Hm?” Wang Yan raised an eyebrow, meeting her downcast eyes. He tried to make his gaze intimidating: “Not willing?”

Caught under his clear, penetrating stare, Pei Zhanxi could do nothing but nod reluctantly, her expression still small and wronged.

“Good girl,” Wang Yan said, satisfied, straightening up with a bigger smile.

He extended his hand again, and the warm, milky-white special ointment appeared as if by magic in his palm.

Wang Yan adjusted the bed to give Pei Zhanxi space, and she finally lay back comfortably. Surprisingly, a tiny spark of gratitude toward him emerged in her heart.

“You twisted your ankle here, right?” Wang Yan looked at her carefully wrapped foot. “You really weren’t careful walking!”

Pei Zhanxi gave a faint, unwilling acknowledgment with her eyes full of grievance.

Wang Yan grabbed some mineral water, took a portion of the ointment in his hand, sprinkled water over it, and rubbed it to a paste.

It was a white, pliable substance, and Wang Yan had no doubt of its efficacy.

Pei Zhanxi had multiple abrasions; her ankle was sprained, and her head was bruised. Everything seemed within the healing range, so Wang Yan applied a dollop directly onto the gauze.

Next, he treated the other abrasions. Pei Zhanxi watched quietly—he was… putting medicine on me?

Taking a little more ointment, he added some water, his hand trembling slightly—maybe a bit too much, but it should be fine.

Not wanting to waste the valuable ointment, he let it drip onto the wounds on her head, and inevitably, some ran down her cheek.

Pei Zhanxi reached for a tissue but was stopped by Wang Yan.

“This is my secret recipe, can’t waste it. Spread it evenly on your face yourself—it’s good for you,” he said, his voice filled with care.

Da, da, da…

Suddenly, the door opened.

The doctor had come for rounds again—still the interns, eyes wide, whispering among themselves.

“Look at all that… applying medicine in the ward…”

“Shh, keep your voice down!”

Wang Yan stepped back to give space.

The doctor asked routine questions. Wang Yan quietly withdrew, feeling he couldn’t help much anyway.

“Don’t eat spicy food recently.”

Pei Zhanxi nodded.

“No heavy physical labor, and no strenuous running.”

Again, she nodded. She felt a tingling on her face—the ointment had run down to her chin.

The interns handed over some tissues.

“Thanks, no need,” Pei Zhanxi politely refused, hesitated for a moment, then recalled Wang Yan’s mischievous smile.

She couldn’t bring herself to defy him.

Carefully, she spread the ointment across her face until no white residue remained.

The interns showed no surprise, seemingly having anticipated this, but still offered tissues as a courtesy.

“One must smear it on the face—must be her boyfriend’s instruction. Like I said before, the more beautiful the man, the more… ravenous and perverse,” one whispered.

The two interns continued murmuring, reaching their own quiet conclusion.