CHAPTER 159: CHAPTER 159 IS IT VERY PAINFUL (15)

"I heard that Old Master Yan always wanted you to go out and experience the world. Should I suggest him to send you to the Middle East for two years?" Fu Nancheng said with a cold sneer.

"No... Third Brother... Don’t ruin me! If I come back from the Middle East, the person you’ll see will be a monkey!"

"Then why haven’t you left yet!"

Fu Nancheng said coldly, Yan Jiu laughingly walked towards the door, not forgetting to say: "Third Brother, I’ll call Qiao Mo to help you cool off!"

"Leave..."

"Hahaha..." Yan Jiu laughed as he left.

Fu Nancheng was furious, his face darkened, secretly vowing that one day he would tear them both apart!

Qin Zhaoran intended to joke around, but Qiao Mo was still worried about Fu Nancheng’s injury. After all, the cold sweat all over his body couldn’t be fake, and even his shirt was soaked through, suggesting the pain was unbearable.

Once Qin Zhaoran arrived, Qiao Mo went up again to carefully inquire about Fu Nancheng’s injuries, memorizing the types of medicine and their usages.

Not until she saw the two of them off did Qiao Mo softly return to the bedroom.

Because of the injury on his back, he lay on the bed sideways. Qiao Mo gently approached the bedside, calling softly: "Fu... Fu Nancheng, are you asleep?"

The man remained silent.

Qiao Mo sat by the bed and gently pulled the blanket over him, but her eyes fell on his battered back, causing her to lose herself a bit.

His back was straight, not particularly broad, yet unexplainably reassuring.

But at this moment, inch by inch of his skin was filled with wounds, covered with large patches of bruises and blood, just looking at them made her feel unbearable pain.

She gently reached out her hand, her fingertips resting on a fist-sized bruise, caressing lightly.

The man facing away from her slowly opened his eyes, feeling the warmth of her fingertips, still silent.

Her fingertips were slightly cool, landing lightly on his back, feeling a bit ticklish, yet inexplicably stirring.

Fu Nancheng made no sound, silently feeling her warmth.

Qiao Mo’s fingers gently stroked over the bruises, moving from one spot to another. She couldn’t help but think of the moment when the horse went wild, and he suddenly rushed out to protect her underneath him.

Her eyes slightly moist, she whispered, "Does it hurt?"

He remained silent, always quiet.

Qiao Mo thought he was asleep, especially since Uncle Zhong had just given him a lot of medication.

Qiao Mo didn’t speak again, her fingers gently landing on some alarming scars.

She remembered them clearly.

The last time she entered, he was standing by the window smoking a cigarette, and she saw those scars on his back.

But she couldn’t understand who could leave such marks on someone as noble as him.

The years have passed, yet they haven’t faded away.

The scars were deep, different from the bruises and purples from being trampled by the horse, slightly raised, resembling sprouting willow buds, mixing with those other marks, inexplicably making her heart ache.

With a soft sigh, Qiao Mo helped him cover with the blanket, poured a cup of warm water at the bedside, turned off the light, and left the bedroom.

Not until more than two hours later, worried, did Qiao Mo return to the bedroom.

Only to find the room lit up, and the man who was supposed to be resting in bed was leaning against the headboard working through a stack of files.

Qiao Mo frowned slightly, closed the door and went to the bedside.

Directly reached out to take the files from his hand, placed them on the bedside: "Mr. Qin said you can’t exert yourself, you need to stay in bed and rest."

"He also said I would be paralyzed and severely disabled." He replied faintly.