Yin Jiuxiao actually guessed right this time—Lin Qinghen didn’t have time to worry about anything else. As soon as he heard what Yin Jiuxiao said, he dragged him back to the room, pulling off his clothes to check the wound on his arm.

Yin Jiuxiao just sat there obediently, letting him undress him, all the while sneaking glances at Lin Qinghen’s expression.

The wound had been treated, so it didn’t look as gruesome anymore, but Lin Qinghen’s heart still ached the moment he saw it.

It was a serious injury, stretching from his forearm all the way to his shoulder—a long wound, with some blood spots still visible on the clothes he had changed out of. Lin Qinghen’s movements were unusually gentle, and his heart clenched painfully, as if he himself were hurt.

Since meeting Yin Jiuxiao, Lin Qinghen had treated him like a precious treasure, always keeping him safe. He wouldn’t even let him lift anything heavy on normal days, so who would’ve thought that after just one day apart, the guy would end up like this?

And he had even gone secretly, not saying a word about where he was going or what he was planning! What was he thinking?

Lin Qinghen felt a mix of heartache and anger; his frustration was almost boiling over.

Seeing Lin Qinghen’s glare, Yin Jiuxiao shrank back slightly, not daring to make a sound.

Aside from this large wound, Yin Jiuxiao had several smaller injuries as well, and the more Lin Qinghen looked, the deeper his frown grew.

These were clear signs of a fight—a fierce one at that.

It was obvious he had already used medicine, so Lin Qinghen’s treatments wouldn’t make much of a difference; it would just take time to heal. But the wound was unusual—just a quick glance showed it wasn’t caused by any ordinary Spirit Master. The lingering energy around the injury was so potent that Lin Qinghen, a Yellow Tier Seven Star, could hardly touch it. When he reached out, his fingertip was pricked by a sharp pulse of energy, making him instinctively pull back.

Yin Jiuxiao’s heart ached seeing this and quickly grabbed his hand to inspect it.

Lin Qinghen’s body was indeed frail—he hadn’t even fully touched it, and his fingertip was already reddened. That lingering power from a Heavenly Tier expert was simply too much for him to withstand.

“Qinghen, don’t touch it,” Yin Jiuxiao said, feeling a bit regretful. He shouldn’t have tried to act pitiful. “I’ll find something to wrap it up in a bit. It’s no big deal; don’t worry about it.”

He had regained a bit of strength and quickly channeled his Qi to dissipate the lingering energy in his wound, afraid of hurting Lin Qinghen any further. He even pulled his clothes back on to keep him from looking.

Then he noticed Lin Qinghen pinching his fingertip, his gaze narrowing slightly.

“Yin Jiuxiao,” he said, his tone changing, “you’re not blind. When did you start lying to me?”

The way he had turned out from behind the wall earlier didn’t look like that of a blind person. And now? Someone who couldn’t see would hardly be able to grab his fingertip so precisely.

Yin Jiuxiao: …

He froze, too afraid to move.

Beyond the issue of his eyesight, his strength was also suspicious.

With his Yellow Tier One Star rank, Yin Jiuxiao should have been bedridden from such an injury, yet here he was, lively and calm. That wasn’t simple at all.

At first, Lin Qinghen’s heart was only pained seeing his injuries, but knowing he was mostly fine, his suspicions grew more certain.

Seeing him begin to look pitiful again, Lin Qinghen grew even more frustrated. Yin Jiuxiao reached out instinctively, pulling him into a tight embrace as if afraid he might run away.

Lin Qinghen tried to push him away but held back due to his injuries, though his tone hardened noticeably.

“Yin Jiuxiao,” Lin Qinghen gritted his teeth, “stop acting pitiful, and don’t think you’re getting away with it today. You’d better explain everything honestly, or else…”

This was already the third time he’d called him by his full name today, and Yin Jiuxiao didn’t dare pretend anymore. He stammered, saying he would confess everything, but still held on tight.

Lin Qinghen took a deep breath and formally began questioning him.

Always the proactive type, he didn’t wait for Yin Jiuxiao to hesitate and asked directly about what he wanted to know.

“First question—have you always been able to see, lying to me this whole time?”

“I-I was blind before,” Yin Jiuxiao stammered, knowing he couldn’t hide it any longer, so he came clean. “Truly, I only started to recover my sight a year ago. I couldn’t see before that.”

A year ago? That meant Yin Jiuxiao had been blind for ten years. Lin Qinghen felt a pang of sympathy—he’d grown so used to taking care of him by now.

But just as his questions were beginning and memories of taking care of him surfaced, other thoughts filled Lin Qinghen’s mind, leaving him with complicated emotions.

“So, you started recovering a year ago?” Lin Qinghen laughed coldly. “Then how do you explain saying your eyes hurt just a few days ago, insisting I massage them until you felt better?”

Yin Jiuxiao couldn’t bring himself to reply.

“Not to mention all those times you claimed you couldn’t see in the bath, asking me to accompany you inside. Or the times you insisted I dress you, holding my hand just to walk a few steps, then complaining it felt dark and lonely if I left for too long. All these things you did, pretending to be blind… Yin Jiuxiao, you really…”

He hadn’t been blind at all!

Lin Qinghen, usually skilled with words, found himself at a loss, unable to find a single fitting phrase to describe Yin Jiuxiao’s shamelessness.

Honestly, at the time, Lin Qinghen had quite enjoyed these moments—Yin Jiuxiao’s playful neediness never felt overly clingy and was something he found quite endearing.

He’d only thought Yin Jiuxiao lacked a sense of security and was happy to indulge him, treating him like a cherished partner.

But now it seemed that this entire act, this vulnerable side of Yin Jiuxiao, was entirely fabricated, nonexistent.

Lying and hiding things were different. Lin Qinghen also had things he hadn’t told Yin Jiuxiao, like the existence of the system, but he’d never gone out of his way to create a false image.

Now, this person he’d thought was easygoing and obedient was gone, and Lin Qinghen wasn’t sure how to accept it.

Listening to Lin Qinghen recounting everything, Yin Jiuxiao’s emotions grew conflicted.

He had acted this way on a whim, but he hadn’t expected it to become a habit. The first time had tasted sweet, and each time since, he’d grown bolder, wanting Lin Qinghen to treat him with that softness that could practically melt into gentleness.

Love draws people deeper and deeper, until all boundaries blur.

But lying always has consequences. He had gotten the sweetness, but now he had to pay the price.

“Because, because I like you, Qinghen,” Yin Jiuxiao said, pulling him even closer, stammering as he spoke. “I just wanted your attention to be on me.”

He couldn’t even explain when his feelings had shifted. He hadn’t expected this moment to be his first heartfelt confession, and he feared Lin Qinghen might not believe him.

“It wasn’t to deceive you, or to make fun of you—I truly like you.”

He repeated the confession, emphasizing each word.

Lin Qinghen stayed silent for a long moment.

He didn’t entirely believe it. Yin Jiuxiao’s track record was practically littered with deceit, and this was only the tip of the iceberg—there were likely many other things left unsaid.

Saying he loved him now… who’s to say it wasn’t another lie?

With no response from Lin Qinghen, Yin Jiuxiao held him tighter, his gaze lowered, too afraid to meet his eyes. Then he heard Lin Qinghen ask coldly, “When you joined the Lin family, could you already see?”

Yin Jiuxiao wasn’t sure why he was asking this, but of course, a year included his time with the Lin family. Feeling nervous, he answered, “Yes.”

Then their first meeting… must have been when Lin Qinghen looked his worst.

Even he himself hadn’t been able to bear looking in the mirror back then, thinking he looked ghastly. And yet, Yin Jiuxiao had seen him like that so clearly, then insisted on holding his hand and staying close after they married—who knew what schemes he’d had?

“Another lie,” Lin Qinghen pushed him away. “You weren’t blind, and yet you claim to have liked me even back then?”

Yin Jiuxiao found himself puzzled by the question.

Why wouldn’t he?

From their very first encounters, he’d felt an affection toward Lin Qinghen. The little raven under the inn’s window, the one he saw getting bullied but swallowing his pride at Plum Garden, and the genuine surprise at seeing his true face when they met formally—each encounter had made Yin Jiuxiao rethink his plans.

After a few days together, he felt himself falling for him.

In his eyes, Qinghen was perfect—could anyone spend time with him and not like him?

For Yin Jiuxiao, that was impossible.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Yin Jiuxiao asked, genuinely puzzled. “Does appearance really matter that much?” He shifted slightly to look Lin Qinghen in the eye. “And besides, you’re very handsome, Qinghen.”

From their first meeting, he’d thought those eyes of his were bright and striking; it’s why he hated seeing Lin Qinghen hide behind a mask, always wanting to see him as he truly was.

Lin Qinghen: …

Due to their position, Yin Jiuxiao could still see that half of his face was marked by a birthmark, and he still said this?

Lin Qinghen thought he’d been seeing Yin Jiuxiao through rose-colored glasses, only to find his partner’s were even thicker.

Their eyes met, and Lin Qinghen stopped his questioning, watching Yin Jiuxiao’s eyes, which were still disguised in a milky gray. After a while, he said, “Change them back.”

He didn’t specify what he wanted changed, but Yin Jiuxiao understood.

He reverted his eyes to their true form—deep, dark black, just like Lin Qinghen’s.

With that change, he almost seemed like a different person. The sharpness in his gaze brought out his face’s natural elegance and authority, a face far from innocent or meek. Even with a simple, steady look, he exuded a commanding presence, as if born to be in control.

Lin Qinghen shifted slightly, suddenly feeling as though a stranger was holding him tightly.

And the next moment, this “stranger” couldn’t resist lowering his head, planting a light kiss at the corner of his lips.