Chapter 36

His hand was burning hot, and his wild, fierce gaze landed on Song Qingdai.

“Ah Han?” her soft call brought back a trace of his sanity.

“…It’s you.”

“I’m not hurt,” he said hoarsely, voice rough.

“If you’re not hurt, then why is there so much blood?”

“You…” Song Qingdai’s voice suddenly caught in her throat.

That slight choke, laced with tears, jolted Gao Han back to full awareness.

He quickly looked at her. “Just a scratch. Most of the blood’s not mine.”

“I know,” Song Qingdai said, ignoring his words and pulling open his shirt. As he’d said, it really was just a superficial wound—a knife had grazed his chest, dangerously close to the heart.

Thankfully, it wasn’t deep, just a flesh wound. His hands and face were scraped and bruised.

It looked like he’d been in a fight.

Song Qingdai stood up and went to fetch the first aid kit she’d seen earlier. It contained disinfectant, anti-inflammatory medicine, and bandages.

Her hands were steady and skillful as she started disinfecting his wounds.

Her eyes were rimmed red, and as she worked, she said, “We’re about to get married soon. If the wedding gets postponed because of your injuries, I won’t be happy.”

She didn’t know why, but the moment she saw him hurt, she felt an overwhelming ache.

It was like a boulder pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

The warm, golden light of the small room fell over him in soft ripples.

He leaned back on the couch, watching her lower her head and expertly tend to his wounds.

The injuries weren’t serious, but there were many.

The girl’s eyes were red, and even the tip of her nose had gone pink.

Gao Han heard what she said, and for some reason, a strange warmth stirred inside him.

It was like she had touched the softest part of his heart with perfect precision.

“Have you had to treat wounds before?” he asked.

Her technique was too practiced, too precise—clearly not the clumsy work of a beginner.

Did she often have to treat her own injuries while she was still living with the Songs?

Song Qingdai gently cleaned the blood off his wounds with antiseptic.

It couldn’t have felt good, but he didn’t flinch, his expression completely calm—as if it were a normal part of life.

The antiseptic ran down the contours of his skin and disappeared beneath his waistband.

His torso was bare, chest rising and falling steadily.

Song Qingdai kept her head down, unaware that from her angle, the man’s gaze had darkened, his Adam’s apple rolling slightly.

“My mother taught me,” she said quietly.

“People always called her a lunatic, said she was crazy. But she taught me a lot.”

Like how to survive alone, how to treat wounds, how to perform emergency aid.

She didn’t know how her mother had learned those things, but she believed in them—believed that everything her mother taught her would one day come in handy.

Later, after marrying into the Zhang family, she was constantly bullied and manipulated by the children. She was always covered in wounds, big and small.

If she hadn’t known how to help herself, she might have already died at the hands of those little monsters.

Zhang Shaoxing never cared.

He turned a blind eye to the kids’ behavior. Even though he knew they had serious issues, he never tried to correct them—he let them grow up wild.

If they got into fights at school and won, he even considered it proof of their strength.

“Hiss…”

Gao Han suddenly let out a pained grunt, eyes squeezed shut and brows deeply furrowed.

Song Qingdai immediately pulled her hand back, panicked. “Ah Han, did I hurt you?”

“I’m sorry, I’ve only ever treated myself before… maybe I used too much force…”

She looked heartbroken, and her eyes reddened even more as she spoke.

In both this life and the last, Gao Han had been the first to truly protect her, to stand by her.

That feeling—apart from her mother, no one else had ever given it to her.

Not even her own father. He was nothing more than a joke.

“You did great,” he said, his breathing slightly unsteady. His gaze on her was deep and unreadable, like a bottomless abyss.

“Did I really hurt you?” she asked, voice trembling.

Though he was the one injured, at this moment it felt like she was the one in pain.

Gao Han had always thought girls were naturally delicate and prone to tears.

But seeing her cry in front of him didn’t make him feel amused—it made him ache.

He reached out and cupped her cheek.

His hand was large, calloused, and rough—but to Song Qingdai, it felt incredibly warm and safe.

It was a hand that could hold up the sky, a safe harbor she could finally rest in, a shield from the world’s storms.

“Go ahead,” he said. “It doesn’t hurt.”

He was a grown man—pain didn’t scare him.

Now that she was this close, Song Qingdai noticed his body bore many old scars.

They must have been there for years—faded and blended with his skin.

Her soft fingers gently traced over one of them.

She felt a pang in her heart and sniffled. “Were these… all left behind from chasing down criminals?”

She knew that everyone living in the Heping Compound was from the military.

Gao Han was likely a soldier.

And a soldier’s duty was to protect the nation and its people.

“Some of them, yeah.”

Some were. Some weren’t.

Song Qingdai carefully applied medicine to his wounds, then wrapped them with medical bandages.

Her hands moved around his waist and neck. He was half-reclined on the couch, and her soft hair brushed against his cheek.

She was so close, nearly pressed against him.

He could feel the warmth and softness of her body, the light fragrance that clung to her.

His gaze darkened, a restlessness rising inside him.

She tied a neat bow on the bandage at his waist. When she looked up, she realized he was staring at her intently.

His long, dark eyes held emotions she couldn’t quite read.

“W-Why are you looking at me like that?” she stammered, suddenly flustered. Something in his gaze felt far too intense, too dangerous.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. He smirked slightly.

That dangerous aura thickened.

With a hoarse, sultry voice, he said, “Comrade Song, didn’t anyone tell you that suddenly getting this close to a man is a very dangerous thing to do?”

“Dangerous?” She blinked, confused—then it dawned on her.

A deep blush rushed to her cheeks, spreading down to her neck.

“Ah Han… we’re both adults.”

“So?” he asked.

He licked his lips—they were dry.

Then Gao Han grabbed her hand and placed it on his chest.

His burning skin thudded under her palm, heart beating strong and fast.

His breath rose and fell—and it pulled her in with it.

“W-What are you doing?” Song Qingdai panicked.

“Didn’t you say… we’re both adults? Then shouldn’t we do what adults are supposed to do?”

His eyes were too dangerous.

Like a hungry wolf ready to devour a little white rabbit.

Full of aggression.

Song Qingdai had lived two lives—she knew exactly what he meant.

She wasn’t a shy little girl anymore, but being around Gao Han still made her nervous and flustered.

“But you’re injured…”

“Just a scratch.”

Her lashes trembled, heart pounding like it was about to burst.

He rubbed her fingers gently, then suddenly pulled her into his arms.

One hand cradled the back of her neck.

And then he captured her lips with his.

Her lips were soft—softer than he had imagined.

The instant their lips met, his heart clenched. Gao Han had never done this before, but his kiss was surprisingly skilled.

Back in the military, life was all training and more training.

His comrades would sometimes talk about how magical intimacy with a woman was—how unforgettable and addictive it could be.

Gao Han used to scoff at that.

To him, it was just two naked bodies—how much pleasure could it possibly bring?

He’d thought they were exaggerating.

But that night when he found Song Qingdai disoriented and unaware, she probably hadn’t remembered a thing, but he remembered it all.

That feeling—addictive beyond words.

Only now did he understand what it meant to be utterly captivated.

Maybe only when it was someone you loved, would it feel like this.

To drown in it—and love every second of it.

His blood boiled. His skin burned.

His kiss was wild and intense—even injured, he showed no mercy.

Her lips were numb and aching.

Yet her body responded instinctively. She began to kiss him back—clumsily, unsure, without rhythm or skill.

She ended up lying awkwardly over him, not daring to fully press down for fear of touching his wounds.

Song Qingdai could barely breathe. Her chest felt like it was about to explode.

Gao Han’s arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her firmly into his lap.

He sat up straight.

And Song Qingdai straddled him—knees on either side.