Wen Kexing fell into one of his rare bouts of silence. He helped Zhou Zishu to sit up straight, laid his hand against his back, and channelled true qi over to him. He did not dare to use too much force, out of fear that he might rattle the nails in his chest like how Ye Baiyi had the other time.

In his whole life, Wen Kexing had practiced martial arts with the purpose of killing and hurting; this was the first time he was using it so meticulously and carefully to try and save someone. He was as tense as a boorish butcher doing delicate needlework, and not long later, sweat began beading at the sides of his forehead.

Slightly less than half a shichen later, he retracted his qi and let go of Zhou Zishu, positioning him so that his shoulder was leaning against the wall. Knowing that his own physical strength was now limited, Zhou Zishu did not waste more of it and simply closed his eyes to rest. The bit of blood at the corner of this mouth had not been wiped clean, and its presence made that pale face look even more shockingly ashen in contrast.

Wen Kexing gazed at him for a while. Suddenly, he couldn’t stop himself from bending down to lightly take the corner of Zhou Zishu’s mouth between his lips, and lap up the drop of blood that had landed there. He seemed to exhale a sigh as he sunk his fingers into the hair at Zhou Zishu's temple, their breaths extremely close to each other’s. Zhou Zishu had opened his eyes sometime ago, but he did not waste any energy by ducking away from Wen Kexing. Instead, he merely said in a low voice, “What lowlife manners, taking advantage of others’ misfortune.”

Wen Kexing did not even look up at him, and returned his compliment with an equally low voice, “Said as if you were a gentleman.”

The way he smiled and spoke was like a murmur; Zhou Zishu could not maintain his pretense of calm any longer, and turned his face away with some discomfort. But his jaw was gripped in place by Wen Kexing, who asked, “Do you have a conscience? I healed your injury. Do I not get even this little perk?”

Zhou Zishu was silent for a while, before he finally said, “I don’t have plans to sell my body for the moment.”

Wen Kexing chuckled. “Do you know what happens when you’re not as strong as someone?”

Zhou Zishu arched an eyebrow and stared at him like he was the pinnacle of human shamelessness. Wen Kexing drew close to his ear, and he heard him whisper, “I’ll--force--a--transaction.”

Zhou Zishu grimaced. “Your spirits are too high.”