A Tongue, A Flame, A Retreat

“Why were you running?”

Wen Xiaoran knitted his brows tightly, his face tense as he glared at Yan Yiao in anger.

“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t run?”

Yan Yiao panted heavily, her hands trembling as she held the shovel up before her chest.

“Y-Your Excellency… were you the one chasing me just now?”

Wen Xiaoran choked for a moment, his expression turning unpleasant.

“Why would I chase you?”

At those words, Yan Yiao burst into tears.

“S-Something was chasing me! I was terrified!”

Seeing her cry without stopping, Wen Xiaoran’s face darkened.

He became even more convinced that she had tried to escape and was caught red-handed, and that these tears were merely an attempt to cover it up.

“Stop crying.”

He frowned impatiently, his tone stern.

“Who did you go to see?”

Her sobbing halted abruptly.

Yan Yiao immediately caught the hidden meaning in his words and grew alert.

“Your Excellency… what do you mean by that?”

He suspected she had gone out to meet someone in secret.

He still regarded her as a spy planted at his side.

Wen Xiaoran did not respond.

His probing gaze rested on her face, thick displeasure clouding his brows.

Under his stare, Yan Yiao felt chilled down her spine.

“I didn’t see anyone alive,” she explained hastily.

“There was only a mass of blood mist chasing me all the way. I thought… I was going to die on Mount Fuyu.”

With that, she broke into loud sobs again, clearly shaken to the core.

“Blood mist?”

Wen Xiaoran’s eyes turned sinister.

He strode forward and steadied her trembling shoulders, his expression growing grave.

“Blood mist appeared on Mount Fuyu?”

Yan Yiao wiped her tear-streaked face with her sleeve.

“It seemed to rise from the center of Tai Lake. I couldn’t see clearly. I’m not certain.”

He fell into thought.

Then she called softly,

“Your Excellency, your wound is bleeding.”

Lowering his gaze, he saw her hesitant expression as her fingertip lightly touched the bloodied web between his thumb and forefinger.

At first, he had assumed she fabricated the story about blood mist to hide meeting someone in secret.

But past terrifying experiences reminded him this matter could not be ignored.

“It’s nothing.”

He withdrew his hand.

However, the movement tugged at the corner of his mouth.

His bitten tongue throbbed sharply, and he could not suppress a low hiss.

Only then did Yan Yiao notice blood seeping from his lips.

His lower lip was red and swollen, as if bitten fiercely.

She suddenly remembered crashing headfirst into something solid and scorching hot earlier.

Her forehead had struck his chin.

Her gaze drifted downward to his firm chest.

Touching her aching cheek, she realized what she had collided with.

Her ears flushed.

“Your Excellency… does your chest hurt?” she asked awkwardly.

Wen Xiaoran instinctively touched his chest.

There was nothing wrong there.

It was his hand and tongue that burned painfully.

As if recalling something, he paused and fixed his eyes on hers, hesitant to speak.

Before he could answer, Yan Yiao stepped forward and grabbed his sleeve to inspect his palm.

“You’re injured. In this heat, if it isn’t treated in time, it could become infected.”

“No need.”

He pulled his hand back indifferently.

Even high-ranked demon beasts could not harm him, let alone the bite of a mere mortal physician.

Ignoring his resistance, Yan Yiao dragged him toward the estate.

Wen Xiaoran froze briefly in surprise.

The timid physician who usually feared everything was suddenly assertive.

By the time he came back to his senses, he was already seated in a round-backed chair in her room.

An open medicine chest lay on the table before him.

The two-colored-eyed tabby cat curled on the bed, tail raised high, eyes wary.

After cleaning the bloody wound carefully, Yan Yiao applied medicine and wrapped it securely.

Only then did she release his hand, her gaze drifting awkwardly to his swollen lips.

“Your Excellency, you—”

She braced herself and extended a hand.

“Open your mouth.”

Wen Xiaoran frowned and instinctively grasped her wrist.

“What are you doing?”

She withdrew her hand sheepishly and tapped her own lip.

“Your mouth… it’s bleeding.”

Realizing her intention, he averted his gaze, clearly uncomfortable.

Yan Yiao acted as though she noticed nothing.

One hand supported his jaw while the other guided tweezers into his mouth.

“Ah!”

She gasped.

“The wound is a little deep. The cheek mucosa and tongue are both injured. I need to clean it first.”

She muttered inwardly that her head must have been made of iron to nearly make him bite his tongue off.

Wen Xiaoran’s expression remained calm, yet his eyes drifted to the hand holding the tweezers.

He watched her slender white fingers advance slowly into his mouth.

An unfamiliar intrusion sensation struck instantly.

His throat tightened.

He swallowed unconsciously.

The tip of his tongue brushed against her warm fingertip.

A foreboding feeling surged within him.

Something was slipping beyond his control.

He almost suspected she was deliberately teasing him in retaliation.

But meeting her focused, innocent gaze, he could not act.

Yan Yiao remained oblivious to his turmoil.

When it came time to apply ointment, she finally sensed something amiss as their eyes met.

“Does it hurt badly?” she asked, stepping back in concern.

He shook his head slightly, lips parted, unable to speak clearly.

Relieved, she scooped ointment with a jade instrument and leaned in once more.

As she withdrew, her fingertip accidentally brushed his soft tongue.

It was like striking a match.

Without thinking, she curled her finger and lightly traced across his warm, moist tongue.

Feeling his flinch and shock, her curiosity flared.

Her expression remained calm, though her heartbeat raced wildly.

She pressed lightly upon his slick tongue.

Wen Xiaoran’s face darkened.

With restrained fury in his eyes, he abruptly shoved her away.

“Ow!”

Unprepared, she fell onto the floor.

In the scuffle, her bent knee struck something hard and scorching.

Seeing his nearly murderous glare and tightly pressed legs, realization dawned.

The great villain… was that easily flustered?

It felt as though she had discovered a new continent.

Eight hundred years old.

The greatest villain in the book.

Demon Lord Wen Xiaoran.

And this pure?

She had only touched his tongue.

What was the big deal?

Before she could recover from her shock and secret delight, he suddenly stood and strode past her.

The door swung open.

He left without looking back.

Almost as though fleeing.

Yan Yiao remained seated on the floor for a long while before processing it.

Was he truly the ultimate villain of the original story?

Had she skipped too many chapters?

Later that night, she inspected a long, bloody cut across her lower back.

After cleaning and bandaging it carefully, she examined her reflection.

The cannon-fodder “canary” in the book had never been described in detail.

Only vague praise — pretty features, skin like congealed cream.

Yet the face in the mirror looked exactly like her own in the real world.

Aside from the hairstyle, nothing differed.

Perhaps anything not specified in the book was automatically filled in by the transmigrator’s identity.

She then recalled blurting out the word “locator” earlier instead of asking for a tracking talisman.

When she tried to explain, his headache struck suddenly.

After that, he never mentioned the word again.

Could it be that real-world concepts were automatically erased in this world?

She would need to test it.

After bathing, she lay in bed with the cat.

Half asleep, she heard a faint hissing outside the window.

Too exhausted to investigate, she dismissed it as imagination.

Through the layered curtains, Wen Xiaoran glanced at her sleeping form.

His eyes darkened.

His lips pressed into a thin line, displeasure nearly spilling over.

He clenched his fingers unconsciously and looked toward the dark sky.

The hissing sound gradually faded into the night.