Chapter 223

The metallic smell of rust and the woodsy fragrance in Pei Ji’s hair intermingled as his disheveled clothes gently rose and fell with his breathing. In his haste, Pei Ji had only roughly covered most of his chest and arms, leaving his shoulder muscles and pale waist partially exposed, which was quite—

If Pei Ji had stayed motionless on the stool, Ning Ning wouldn’t have had any other thoughts.

But now, standing so close and seeing Pei Ji in this state, she felt a stifling heat rise in her chest.

“Your wounds have all reopened. Don’t move; I’ll help you up.”

She squatted down to reach out, but Pei Ji gritted his teeth and tried to stand up, one hand still pressing on the cloth at his collarbone.

His face was cold and stern, barely suppressing the tremors from the pain, and he took a shallow breath: “…You go out first.”

Ning Ning raised her eyes to look at him.

Pei Ji deliberately avoided her gaze, struggling to control his pounding heart. Before he could speak, he quickly heard her voice again: “Leave for what? So you can dress up and make your wounds worse?”

Ning Ning seemed a bit annoyed, her tone urgent: “I’ve even held your hand before. What’s there to hide now?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, even she was stunned.

What’s there to hide now?

—How could she so boldly declare that there’s nothing to hide now!

It was just holding hands once; even with rounding up, it shouldn’t escalate to being completely open and honest! Moreover, this was Pei Ji’s body. She—

Ning Ning’s thoughts were a tangled mess, wanting nothing more than to find a coffin and bury herself quietly.

She had never realized before that the ordinary word “body” could be so ambiguous that it could make people blush.

Pei Ji was stunned for a long moment, seemingly shocked by these bold words, his face blank and expressionless, while a blush rapidly spread from his ears down his neck.

“Wow.”

Cheng Ying sighed from the bottom of his heart, “Is Ning Ning always this fierce?”

“Well, I mean, as fellow disciples who care for each other, we have a pretty good relationship. There’s no need to mind such things.”

Ning Ning desperately tried to piece together her words, hoping to salvage her gradually deteriorating image in her junior brother’s eyes, just not wanting to be seen as a shameless female hooligan.

Recalling how heavily Pei Ji had fallen, she instinctively reached out with her right hand as she spoke, gently touching the back of his head: “Does it hurt here?”

Her clumsy movements brought a gentle and soft touch, which was incredibly comforting.

It was the first time Pei Ji had been touched like this. The intense pain from hitting his head on the floor slowly dissipated, like heavy ice melting into a flowing stream. The warmth, with just the right amount of pressure, was both comforting and slightly ticklish.

He cursed himself for being so hesitant, initially planning to move his clothes away, but his thoughts stalled at the sight of his thin body beneath the fabric.

If his body were flawless, Pei Ji would gladly, even eagerly, let Ning Ning see it.

But it wasn’t.

He had grown up being beaten by his mother, who harbored deep hatred for the demon cultivator who abandoned her. Her psychological state was nearly deranged, and as Pei Ji’s appearance increasingly resembled that man, her revenge grew more severe.

Throughout his ten-plus years of life, the things Pei Ji encountered most were the narrow dark room, bloodstained whips and sticks, and his mother’s unrelenting slaps.

She always treated him as a tool to vent her anger, never healing her only child’s wounds, occasionally throwing him some cheap ointment to prevent his death.

Those crude medicines naturally couldn’t heal the scars completely.

Unlike others with smooth and clean skin, Pei Ji’s body was covered with hideous scars resembling centipedes. After joining the Xuanxu Sword Sect, the targeted attacks from some fellow disciples during sparring added more sword wounds to his collection.

Even the doctor at the clinic today couldn’t help but sigh while applying medicine, muttering that he’d never seen so many scars on one person.

Injuries and scars were routine for Pei Ji.

He never felt ashamed of them, even if doctors showed surprise; he would remain indifferent and ignore them.

But now, hesitation and fear quickly spread from the depths of his heart, like dense vines entangling all his actions and thoughts.

…He didn’t want Ning Ning to see the pale and ugly body beneath his clothes.

It didn’t matter if anyone else saw it, but she couldn’t.

“What’s wrong?”

Ning Ning noticed his dimmed eyes and reached to pull the thin shirt covering Pei Ji, only to see him grip the fabric tighter, frowning and coldly saying, “Leave.”

Cheng Ying, guessing Pei Ji’s thoughts, spoke with rare seriousness, hesitating: “Pei Xiaoji…”

Pei Ji’s expression softened for a moment.

Ning Ning, puzzled by this sudden change, couldn’t figure it out. Before she could think further, she heard his hoarse voice repeat, “I can do it myself; I don’t need—”

Before Pei Ji could finish, his words stuck in his throat.

Even Cheng Ying was stunned, emitting a shrill sound like a toilet flushing.

—Ning Ning had wrapped an arm around his uninjured back, pulling him into her embrace, then, with a bit of force, lifted the much taller boy smoothly into her arms.