Chapter 12

A perfect memory isn't always a blessing.

It means he could vividly recall every wound and every nightmare, using them to torment himself repeatedly.

At night, the Soulsoothing Incense failed to suppress the pain in his heart, and in his dreams, he returned to the Golden Phoenix Manor, trapped in a gilded birdcage.

The Pleasure Seal on his back burned faintly, his body paralyzed, forcing him to sit on the ground and watch as the young attendants performed one absurd scene after another.

This defiled world, where even the air was too foul to breathe...

Yet his desires were forcibly stirred, mercilessly manipulated.

So dirty, so disgusting.

Yue Wuhuan curled up in despair, trying to escape the hands that reached for him, wishing to cut off every inch of skin they had touched. His entire body was sullied, utterly broken. He couldn’t breathe, dying again and again, only to wake up still in the cage, reliving the same nightmare until his mind shattered and he gave up struggling, letting his body be utterly ruined.

Suddenly, flames like crimson lotuses burned the cage to ashes, and a clear herbal scent dispersed the foul stench.

He realized the lewd whispers around him had vanished. Cautiously opening his eyes, he saw a youth clad in robes white as snow.

The youth carried no tainted scent, his eyes held no filthy desires. He reached out from the layered sleeves, even his fingertips radiating purity like fresh snow.

It took Yue Wuhuan a long time to realize this hand was extended to him.

With a tentative longing, he wanted to touch the purest existence in this world. But as he lifted his hand, the red marks on his wrist and the stains on his palm came into view. He quickly withdrew his filthy hand, trying to hide it behind his back—only to see the traces left by the attendants all over his body, not a single clean spot left.

"Don’t touch me... you’ll dirty your hands..."

"Don’t look at me... you’ll dirty your eyes..."

"Don’t save me... just kill me..."

Terrified, he recoiled into the darkness, where he could no longer see his own body.

The persistent youth stepped closer, reaching out again and again, until he stepped into the darkness, leaving Yue Wuhuan no room to retreat. Finally, the youth removed his pristine robe and draped it over Yue Wuhuan, embracing him as if he were the most precious treasure, removing his shackles one by one, wiping away the filth bit by bit.

Those solemn eyes held only his reflection, the clean fragrance lingering at his nose, soft fingers like sparks igniting the flames of his desire. His heart was sinking, his reason slipping away, transforming into a monstrous fiend—wanting to possess, to devour the youth whole, to keep him forever by his side.

To madly defile that pure body...

To greedily desecrate that innocence...

To repay kindness with betrayal...

Panting, Yue Wuhuan violently pushed away the youth’s tenderness. He knew he couldn’t get any closer.

Noticing his body’s shameful reaction, the youth pondered for a moment before placing a red Divine Sense Bead into his palm.

The bead burned hot, its Divine Sense flowing with his will, guiding his desires.

Yue Wuhuan felt the Pleasure Seal on his back rapidly fading, the shackles on his body completely undone—yet his desires ran wild.

The youth yielded to his cravings, slowly removing his inner robe, loosening his white jade hairpiece. Soft, disheveled locks cascaded down, and fair skin soon bloomed with bewitching crimson marks. His cool aura was invaded by desire, like a sacred deity descending into a demon’s altar, falling into the arms of a fiend, whispering in the clearest voice the words he longed to hear:

"You can dirty me."

"You can do anything to me."

"Whatever you want, I’ll give it all to you."

"Including myself."

"..."

Every wicked thought in his heart became reality.

The demon could no longer restrain himself. He claimed every inch, violated every breath.

Defiling divinity.

......

Yue Wuhuan jolted awake, the lingering scent of sweetness and herbs still in his nose. Suddenly realizing something, he turned his head—only to see Song Qingshi leaning over his bedside, holding a lamp made of glow-pearls, his eyes shining with excitement under the glow, as if eagerly awaiting something.

He stared blankly for a long moment before slowly closing his eyes, doubting he was still dreaming.

"Don’t go back to sleep!" Song Qingshi cut off his thoughts. "Wake up!"

Finally roused, Yue Wuhuan asked hoarsely, "Master... why are you here?"

"Wu Huan, listen!" Song Qingshi announced joyfully. "I’ve finally found a way to reduce the side effects of the Six Meridians Revival Decoction! So I came to get you first thing—get up! Let’s go for treatment!"

Yue Wuhuan glanced dazedly out the window, where the barest hint of dawn had just appeared.

Wasn’t it still the fifth watch (before dawn)?

Having solved a problem that had plagued him for days, Song Qingshi was exhilarated, feeling like a fan whose team had just won the World Cup—his mind buzzing, eager to share his triumph. In all of Medicine King Valley, Yue Wuhuan was the one who best understood his thoughts and the source of his joy. So he had patiently waited until morning to fetch him: "Hurry, hurry!"

"Alright," Yue Wuhuan smiled faintly. Then, realizing something, he paused while lifting the blanket and said quietly, "Master, please wait outside first. I’ll dress and join you shortly."

Song Qingshi finally recognized his impropriety. Back in the research institute, many experiments required round-the-clock monitoring, and he and his seniors often took shifts, waking each other up in the middle of the night. He had momentarily forgotten that although the bottom protagonist was male, his orientation might also lean toward men—he should have been more cautious. Bursting into someone’s bedroom like this carried a hint of midnight intrusion...

Yue Wuhuan had psychological issues. A misunderstanding would be disastrous...

Thinking this, Song Qingshi immediately straightened his demeanor, striving to embody the perfect gentleman, and turned to leave.

Yue Wuhuan exhaled deeply in relief. Pushing aside the blanket, he glanced disdainfully at the signs of his arousal, yet the dream’s tantalizing scenes resurfaced—the youth who had yielded to his every whim. Unable to suppress his shameful desires, he curled up again, desperately restraining himself from tainting that purity.

He was so filthy...

......

After waiting anxiously outside for what felt like ages, Song Qingshi finally saw Yue Wuhuan emerge, freshly groomed and properly dressed. Relieved to find his expression normal, showing no anger at his rashness, he immediately set aside his worries and eagerly dragged him straight to the treatment room.

Inside, two large boxes of golden acupuncture needles were laid out.

In Chinese medicine, acupuncture anesthesia existed, but it was limited to local anesthesia, with effects varying by individual and often insufficient for pain relief. It fell short in comparison to Western anesthesia methods in convenience and efficacy, and patients seldom accepted it, so it was only used in rare cases.

But Song Qingshi had suddenly realized—through his predecessor’s memories—that this world’s unique meridians and dantian amplified acupuncture’s effects manifold. By channeling Spiritual Energy through the needles, precise localized anesthesia could be achieved.

Suddenly inspired, he experimented on himself several times, confirming that he could minimize the numbing range around Yue Wuhuan’s blocked meridians, reducing the pain by fifty percent without compromising efficacy. This would bring the agony of the Six Meridians Revival Decoction down to a bearable level.

After a stumbling, drawn-out explanation, he finally got his point across: "I’ll insert over two hundred needles across your body. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt—just some tingling and itching. Then we’ll proceed with the medicinal bath. Once your meridians are unblocked, I’ll remove the needles and use medicine to reconstruct your dantian."

Yue Wuhuan stared at him silently for a long while.

"Though this requires you to undress for the needles and some contact, remember—I’m a doctor. In a doctor’s eyes, there’s no gender, only patients!" Song Qingshi, sensing his hesitation, vowed earnestly, "You don’t need to guard against me. I promise I won’t have any improper thoughts or do anything unprofessional!"

*But he was the one with strange thoughts...*

Yue Wuhuan stared blankly at the pale pink lips, recalling the scenes from his dream. His throat tightened slightly. He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing those shameful thoughts, then slowly untied his belt and whispered softly, "If it's you... you can touch..."

The wound on his shoulder had faded to a faint scar. His warm, honey-hued skin carried a lingering sweetness, and his shoulder blades spread like butterfly wings, the Pleasure Seal transforming into decadent patterns upon them. The slender waist bore lines of strength—this body was too perfect, always tempting desire.

Song Qingshi pondered for a moment, figuring he shouldn't overestimate human resistance to beauty. He found a towel to wrap around Yue Wuhuan, then calmed his mind and used his spiritual awareness to locate the acupuncture points before carefully inserting the needles one by one.

"Can you feel it?"

"Yes."

"What does it feel like?"

"Soreness, swelling, itchiness..."

Confirming proper needle placement, Song Qingshi relaxed and continued his work.

As he reached the back, he suddenly noticed a red birthmark on Yue Wuhuan’s shoulder blade, shaped like a tiny phoenix. It had been obscured by the Pleasure Seal, blending in and thus not easily noticeable.

He paused, observing it for a long while before remarking, "You have a very beautiful birthmark."

"It was passed down from my mother," Yue Wuhuan replied, childhood memories coming back and easing his tension. "She was a palace dancer from overseas, with red hair and golden eyes. My father took a liking to her and made her a concubine. Many of my features resemble hers."

"Mixed blood? Your mother must have been stunning," Song Qingshi sensed his relaxation and attempted to continue the conversation. "Black and curly hair are dominant traits, and though black eyes aren’t purely black, darker genetics have a higher inheritance rate. That’s why yours turned into that deep amber-like gold. Your eyes have a special name—angel’s irises..."

Yue Wuhuan didn’t understand the latter part. "My mother... was indeed beautiful..."

"What kind of person was she?"

"Gentle. Everyone in the palace adored her."

"Do you want to go back to see her?" Song Qingshi thought reuniting with family might aid his psychological recovery. "I can send you back."

Yue Wuhuan fell silent for a long time before replying with difficulty, "No. She's... gone."

Song Qingshi’s hand, holding the needle, froze mid-air. He realized he'd put his foot in his mouth again.

"They... heard my mother resembled me and considered capturing her as a slave," Yue Wuhuan’s voice went flat, as if numbed by pain. "To save her, I compromised in ways I never wanted to. Yet... they still went after her. Fortunately, my kingdom fell years ago. My father and eldest brother died in battle. My mother followed the empress in taking their own lives at the Phoenix Terrace. They’re all gone. At least they died cleanly, spared the humiliation, spared from seeing me like this..."

Song Qingshi’s heart broke. He couldn’t comfort such pain—he only wanted to embrace the man before him.

He reached out but hesitated, fingertips just brushing Yue Wuhuan’s shoulder before withdrawing, remembering how much the other despised touch and how it would upset him.

Lowering his head, he picked up the needle again, telling himself everything would be alright.

Yue Wuhuan noticed movement behind him and turned his head, suddenly catching a glimpse of a faint red mark peeking from Song Qingshi’s collar.

His eyes widened in disbelief, his mind going to forbidden places. Without thinking, he reached out and roughly yanked the collar aside.

Beneath the snow-white robe, mottled dark red marks dotted the collarbone, stark against the jade-like skin. They overlapped with those feverish, shameful dreams from the night before.

The young man didn’t resist, sitting obediently with bewildered eyes, as if unsure why Yue Wuhuan was agitated.

His breathing grew ragged, barely containing the dirty hunger rising within him.

"What is this?"

Author’s Note: Song Qingshi’s analysis: Yue Wuhuan is the receptive partner, and I have no interest in such things, so living together is perfectly safe!

Yue Wuhuan hides his predatory nature and smiles: *You’re absolutely right.*