Chapter 4: Want My Wife to Blow It for Me

Chapter 4: Want My Wife to Blow on It

Chu Lanting recalled that the original book had a similar kind of power-level system.

He didn't know much about the novel, only remembering that the book's opening mentioned Pei Du had an incredibly strong spiritual power.

As for what spiritual power actually was, he still had no idea.

Facing a man who'd lost every memory, even his own name, he didn't immediately unwrap the bandages.

Instead, he dug out an old enamel mug from who-knows-where and set it on the bed.

"What is this?"

The mug was caked with dust inside and looked older than Chu Lanting himself.

His face warmed at what he was about to try, and he pushed the mug toward Pei Du. "Can you make this mug fly?"

The young man on the bed blinked, caught off guard. He glanced down at the mug, then looked back up to find his wife staring at him expectantly.

Pei Du's brain short-circuited for a second before he snatched up the mug and raised it high. "Wife, look! The mug is flying!"

Chu Lanting: ...

Chu Lanting wiped a hand over his face, amused.

He'd actually tried to test Pei Du's spiritual power without knowing the first thing about it. It wasn't like some kind of magic, was it?

Either way, it had nothing to do with him. Knowing too much might make Pei Du suspicious when his memories came back.

With that in mind, he pressed his lips together and reached for the mug. "Never mind. Spread your arms out, and I'll clean you up."

This time, Pei Du didn't argue.

He'd felt gross all over since waking up, but his wife looked even worse off, so he'd kept his mouth shut.

As the bandages peeled away, the guy's solid build was on full display.

Chu Lanting pulled from the memories he'd inherited that when Pei Du was first brought home, he'd been badly hurt, his white shirt soaked in blood.

It hadn't been that long, but now most of his wounds were already scabbing over and healing by themselves.

Only one gash, stretching from his left shoulder to his right chest, was too deep to close up on its own. The bandage had stuck to the wound, and just seeing it made Chu Lanting's heart clench.

"Does that hurt?"

After finally peeling the bandage off the wound, Chu Lanting had been so careful that he didn't even notice the fine sweat beading on his forehead.

His rosy lips had been pressed tight until they went pale, but now that he relaxed, the rosy color came back, deepening a little.

Pei Du watched the whole thing, his fox-like eyes darkening.

He swallowed hard, and when he finally spoke, his voice came out rough. "Doesn't hurt."

Liar.

Chu Lanting furrowed his brow.

His voice was hoarse from the pain, and he still said it didn't hurt.

Growing up in a peaceful time, the worst injury he'd ever had was scraping his knee falling off his bike as a kid.

But every single wound on Pei Du's body, big or small, was a horror show, making his heart pound.

How the hell could wounds this bad not hurt?

"I don't have any medicine here. Let me clean your wounds first, okay? If it hurts, just let me know."

He ran the damp cloth gently over the young man's body.

Chu Lanting was terrified of hurting him, so he'd wipe a few times, then glance up to check his face.

Every time he saw the guy frown, he'd stop right away and ask if he'd hurt him.

Pei Du had a great body, obvious even under all those bandages.

With the bandages off, every muscle was on full display for Chu Lanting.

Not the over-the-top kind of muscles, but they still screamed strength.

As he wiped Pei Du down, Chu Lanting kept glancing down at his own scrawny frame.

At least before he got thrown into this book, he'd had a six-pack. Now he was as skinny as a damn chicken.

If Pei Du ever snapped and decided to hit him, he probably couldn't take a single punch.

He was mentally adding "work out" to his to-do list when he heard a sharp hiss of breath beside him.

His mind went completely blank, and Chu Lanting snapped his head up. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

Seeing that he'd accidentally brushed against a wound, his brows knit even tighter. "Sorry, I wasn't looking. Does it hurt bad? Want me to blow on it?"

The second the words left his mouth, Chu Lanting regretted it.

What kind of kid-coaxing nonsense was that? Pei Du might've lost his memory, but he hadn't lost his brain.

Cursing himself for the bad habit, Chu Lanting awkwardly tried to pull his hand away.

But Pei Du was quicker.

The guy, who looked like he was gritting through the pain, grabbed his slender wrist.

His eyes were a little red, and his breathing was uneven.

If Chu Lanting had looked closer, he'd have noticed the tent in the blanket.

But his attention was elsewhere right now.

Seeing Pei Du look so pained, he felt even worse. "Sorry, I—"

"Okay, wife. Blow on it for me."

The tiny room was crammed with old furniture in every corner.

It felt suffocating.

Hearing that, Chu Lanting's handsome face went blank. It took him a second to blink, surprise flickering in his clear eyes.

"Really?"

"Mm, it hurts. I need my wife to kiss it better."

His carelessness just now had hurt the young man.

Chu Lanting, already feeling guilty, immediately leaned in close to the wound the moment he heard it hurt.

His breath, warm with a slight chill, brushed over the wound.

At some point, the room went quiet, leaving only the sound of two breaths tangled together.

After who knows how long, Chu Lanting felt a push on his shoulder. The next second, he saw the young man, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, wrap himself in the blanket and roll to the far side.

Confusion flickered in his clear eyes. He glanced at the cloth in his hand, then looked up and asked softly, "What's wrong? Are you not feeling well?"

"I... I haven't finished cleaning the wound. Don't roll around on the bed—it could tear open again."

There was no response.

The other man even pulled the blanket over his head.

It was the same one he'd dug out from the corner of the cabinet.

He was worried the blanket, unwashed for so long, might harbor bacteria and infect Pei Du's wound.

Chu Lanting sighed silently, walked to the other side of the bed, grabbed a corner of the blanket, and yanked it off.

"The blanket's not clean, and your wound hasn't healed. What if it gets infected... Why—why are you crying again?"

In the past, Chu Lanting thought he was good at comforting people. Whenever his students had conflicts, he could resolve them quickly and thoroughly while calming everyone down.

But now, just a few hours into this book, Pei Du—the male lead, who was supposed to be all domineering and imposing—had already cried twice in front of him.