Spoiled Eldest Miss x Two-faced Madman

CHAPTER 58: Full of Him

　　In the deep, dark night, the faint rustle of fabric could be heard over and over again.

　　It sounded like someone was tossing and turning restlessly, unable to fall asleep.

　　The man lying in bed silently opened his eyes and looked toward the chaise by the window.

　　Bathed in the thin moonlight, he could see a slender, graceful figure lying there. Whether it was because she was sleeping unsteadily or simply hadn’t fallen asleep at all, she kept turning over from time to time.

　　Rustle... rustle...

　　Another turn. In less than half an hour, she had already flipped over more than ten times, like there were bugs under her.

　　He could see her dark hair trailing over the pillow. Well cared for and glossy, it shimmered under the moonlight like a silver river winding softly.

　　“Pei Ji, are you asleep...?”

　　After tossing and turning for a while, as if she couldn’t hold it in anymore, a hesitant little voice—soft as the chirp of an insect—drifted over from the chaise.

　　Pei Ji let out a silent sigh.

　　With her like this, how could he possibly sleep?

　　“...No,” he answered after a brief pause.

　　“Me neither.” Perhaps reassured to hear he wasn’t sleeping, the girl no longer bothered to lower her voice and began complaining boldly, “This chaise is so uncomfortable. It’s too hard.”

　　Pei Ji: “...”

　　Why was she telling him this?

　　Was she trying to sleep in his bed now?

　　Letting her into the room was already a step too far. Even now, he still regretted it. She better not push her luck.

　　He closed his eyes expressionlessly, but the girl spoke again, completely unfamiliar with the concept of subtlety: “Pei Ji, can we sleep somewhere else instead?”

　　As soon as she said it, she seemed to realize how inappropriate it sounded and muttered softly to herself, “Ugh, no, that won’t work. You’re injured... how could I steal your bed...”

　　Pei Ji: “...”

　　He remembered when they first met, she even wanted to steal his wheelchair—and he was a cripple.

　　Though she gave up the idea of stealing his bed, she soon fell back into her restless tossing and turning.

　　Listening to the constant sounds of her moving, Pei Ji could practically feel how uncomfortable she was.

　　That’s true—An Jiu was a pampered young lady, delicate and used to comfort. Making her sleep on a chaise was definitely a bit too much.

　　Back when they were traveling, there was one night they had to camp outdoors. They’d set up a tent to sleep in, but Pei Ji hadn’t been fully prepared—the bedding was a little rough, and the young lady barely slept the entire night. When she woke up the next morning, she had bright, obvious dark circles under her eyes.

　　And of course, she was the kind of person who, if she wasn’t comfortable, would make sure no one else was either.

　　The next day, Pei Ji had been bossed around non-stop by her, ordered to do this and that, thoroughly tormented.

　　Thinking back on it now, he felt a vague sense of unease rising again.

　　If he didn’t let her sleep on the bed, she might really stay awake all night—and tomorrow morning she’d have those dark circles again.

　　An Jiu’s skin was fair and delicate, so any trace or mark showed up clearly.

　　Pei Ji had already learned that lesson firsthand.

　　He suddenly found himself unable to stay silent any longer.

　　“Miss An, if you don’t mind, you can come over. We can switch,” he said.

　　In the silence of the dark night, his warm and gentle voice rang out.

　　An Jiu was stunned for a long moment before realizing Pei Ji was talking to her. For that split second, she couldn’t believe her own ears.

　　Did Pei Ji even know what he was saying?

　　He was a real, honest-to-goodness injured patient—not to mention the brilliant, borderline demon-like villain in the book. What was with him giving up his bed like some humble servant?

　　It almost made it seem like she was terribly hard to please.

　　An Jiu hesitated for a long time before finally refusing with great reluctance, “No need… I couldn’t possibly.”

　　Though truthfully, she really couldn’t fall asleep.

　　But it wasn’t because the chaise was uncomfortable—no matter how pampered she was, she wasn’t actually some kind of princess who could feel a pea through twenty mattresses.

　　The real reason she couldn’t sleep was that, every time she closed her eyes, those brutal scenes from earlier in the day flashed uncontrollably before her eyes.

　　Having grown up in a civilized world, An Jiu had never really seen a dead body before—especially not something as savage as that: knives going in white and coming out red, blood spraying everywhere. Even with her strong mind and natural calm, her body still couldn’t stop reacting to the shock.

　　Honestly, no matter who had transmigrated here, after witnessing a scene like that, it would be impossible to stay calm.

　　Earlier that evening in Jinshe Town, she’d seen people in the streets passionately discussing what had happened. Some looked solemn, others were oddly excited, a few sighed in regret—but none of them showed even a trace of fear.

　　In this era, anyone who entered the jianghu was prepared to tie their head to their belt.

　　No one feared death—so naturally, they didn’t fear killing either.

　　That was the mindset of people in the martial world.

　　And now more than ever, An Jiu felt the deep divide between her and this world.

　　She didn’t belong here.

　　Her mind spun in chaos until Pei Ji’s voice called her back: “Miss An, there’s no need to worry. I’ve walked the jianghu for years—injuries are nothing to me. It doesn’t matter where I sleep.”

　　His voice was calm and gentle, not like polite nonsense—he really seemed to mean it. As he spoke, he sat up in bed, his movements rustling softly.

　　An Jiu had no choice but to sit up as well.

　　“Huh? You’re really giving up your bed for me?” she asked, staring at his silhouette in disbelief.

　　Pei Ji paused for a second at that. “Was Miss An just joking earlier?”

　　“...Of course not.”

　　“In that case, let’s not waste time.”

　　So a few minutes later, An Jiu found herself lying on Pei Ji’s bed in a daze.

　　She buried her face in the soft pillow. It wasn’t one of those traditional wooden or jade pillows from ancient times—Pei Ji used a medicinal one, stuffed with unknown herbs. It was a little firm but oddly comfortable.

　　A faint bitter herbal scent and the fresh smell of plants filled her nose—just like the scent that always clung to him.

　　Lying here, An Jiu felt as if something invisible was wrapping around her, gently enclosing her.

　　Breathing in that familiar herbal fragrance, her nerves—which had been stretched taut all night—slowly began to relax, and her mind, wired and sleepless until now, finally started to drift toward sleep.

　　Sleep, long absent, finally crept in. An Jiu yawned.

　　On the other side of the room, Pei Ji lay on the chaise, listening as the girl’s breathing slowly settled, becoming the steady rhythm of slumber.

　　She was asleep.

　　The night was still, the moon silent.

　　Her gentle breaths rose and fell in the darkness, and Pei Ji found his attention drawn to her without meaning to. Only now did he become fully aware of what he had just done.

　　As if in a trance, he had let a woman lie on the bed he had slept in.

　　That thought echoed in his mind—and the next moment, a sudden blaze seemed to ignite in his chest, burning fiercely.

　　Pei Ji abruptly shut his eyes and turned his head sharply away from the bed.

　　His fists clenched tightly. Unknowingly, his palms had already been marked by the deep crescent imprints of his own nails.

　　　　—

　　The next morning, An Jiu was awakened by the pain in her belly.

　　The sky hadn’t even fully brightened when she felt a cold, heavy ache in her lower abdomen, as if a chunk of ice had been lodged there—heavy and freezing.

　　At that moment, she was still half-asleep, her body curling up into a tight little shrimp from the discomfort. The pain grew clearer and clearer, and when she felt a sudden warmth beneath her, her eyes flew open.

　　Crap. That familiar feeling—there was no need to guess. Her period had come!

　　An Jiu: “…”

　　This was ridiculous. Why was she still having period cramps even after transmigrating into a novel?!

　　She’d always struggled with dysmenorrhea in the modern world. She’d tried everything—Western meds, traditional herbal remedies—but nothing ever worked.

　　Back then, painkillers were her lifesavers. Without them, she couldn’t function normally.

　　Who would’ve thought her fragile menstrual cycle would follow her across worlds?

　　Digging through the original body’s memories, she found that the original An Jiu had also suffered from period pain since childhood. But in the Shangshu Mansion, she’d been pampered and well cared for, so the pain hadn’t been too noticeable.

　　Now that she was out braving the wind and sun, traveling day and night, it was much worse than usual.

　　An Jiu sat hunched on the bed, wearing a mask of pain.

　　When would she finally be free from period cramps?! Every girl who suffers from them must have been a fallen angel in their past life!

　　Just then, a gentle voice floated over from nearby. “Miss An?”

　　Startled, An Jiu turned her head and saw Pei Ji, clad in white, slowly rising from the chaise.

　　Only then did she remember what she had done last night.

　　She was sleeping in Pei Ji’s bed right now.

　　Worse than stealing a sick man’s bed was… bleeding on it because of her period.

　　An Jiu’s toes curled hard into the bedsheet, scrunching the whole thing.

　　She tugged the corner of her mouth into an extremely stiff smile and said awkwardly, “Pei Ji… I need to tell you something. But first, promise me—you won’t get mad, okay?”

　　The white-robed young man raised a brow ever so slightly, his expression gentle as he asked, “Why would I be angry?”

　　“Good, good, as long as you’re not mad.” An Jiu let out two dry laughs. Under his puzzled gaze, she mumbled quickly and guiltily, “I dirtied your bed.”

　　“…What?”

　　She’d spoken too fast and too vaguely—Pei Ji didn’t catch her at all.

　　He squinted at her, only to see the girl’s lips pursed tightly, her ears flushed red. Her delicate peach blossom eyes were darting around, clearly flustered. Even the corners of her eyes were tinged pink.

　　Her red lips parted again, all that arrogant energy from before completely gone. With her head lowered, her pale fingers nervously twisting the bedding until her knuckles turned white, she whispered, “I… I…”

　　She stammered for ages, but not a single word came out. Instead, the blush on her cheeks kept spreading, layer after layer, like peach blossoms blooming across her face.

　　By the window near the chaise, the man’s expression shifted slightly as he subtly looked away.

　　His throat moved unconsciously. He cleared his dry voice and was just about to speak—when suddenly, the girl let out a soft, painful moan.

　　Pei Ji’s gaze snapped back instantly, faster than even he realized.

　　“What’s wrong?”

　　The girl was hunched over, both hands clutching her abdomen. Her once rosy face had turned pale as paper, her delicate features twisted in pain.

　　Pei Ji’s brows furrowed deeply, panic rising in his heart.

　　She hadn’t been injured yesterday, but the way she looked now, it was like she was enduring unbearable pain. Could it be poison?

　　For a moment, Pei Ji completely forgot to keep up his usual calm demeanor. Instinctively, he was about to get up and check her pulse.

　　But before he could move, the girl looked up at him, her face still pale as she weakly pleaded, “Pei Ji, my stomach really hurts…”

　　The pain had brought tears to her eyes, her lashes damp and trembling. With her ghostly complexion, her lovely face looked like a pear blossom in the rain—fragile and heartbreakingly pure.

　　The way she looked at him, the way she spoke—so soft, so pitiful—it almost felt like she was… being coquettish.

　　Pei Ji’s heart gave a strange thump. He forced himself to remain composed as he gripped the edge of the bed, transferring to his wheelchair and wheeling himself over to her.

　　He quickly reached the bedside and asked in a low voice, “Where does it hurt?”

　　As he spoke, he extended his hand, signaling that he wanted to take her pulse.

　　But the girl shook her head and rested her chin on her drawn-up knees. Half her face was buried in her legs, leaving only a pair of watery eyes peeking out, gazing at him guiltily. She muttered, “I’m not sick…”

　　“Then why are you in so much pain? Don’t mess around—let me check.”

　　Pei Ji’s frown deepened. His dark eyes locked on her, filled with a hint of urgency even he didn’t notice.

　　Thinking she was being stubborn again, he pushed down the irritation and softened his tone to coax her gently.

　　Faced with such concern, An Jiu only felt more ashamed.

　　She was too embarrassed to say it out loud, so she slowly stretched out her hand and placed it in front of him.

　　His slender, jade-like fingers, with clearly defined joints, pressed lightly against her pale wrist. Not even a second later, the man suddenly looked up at her.

　　An Jiu bit her lip and gave him an awkward little smile.

　　Pei Ji caught a glimpse of the tips of her ears, red and glowing beneath her dark hair, and his long lashes suddenly trembled violently.

　　After a moment, he slowly withdrew his hand, coughed lightly, and said in a calm tone, “It’s nothing serious... just a bit of cold in the womb. I’ll prescribe you two doses of medicine and give you some acupuncture. It’ll get better.”

　　“Really?” Hearing that, An Jiu immediately forgot all her embarrassment. Her eyes lit up.

　　He could actually cure her period cramps!?

　　Pei Ji wheeled himself toward the desk without looking at her, his voice low: “It’s true. I would never speak empty words...”

　　Before he could finish, the girl had already jumped to her feet excitedly. She’d slept in her clothes last night, so she simply slipped on her shoes and pattered over to him, beaming as she fetched him pen and paper. “Quick, quick, quick—write it down!”

　　As Pei Ji picked up the brush to write the prescription, she stood beside him, chattering non-stop: “Pei Ji, you’re amazing!”

　　Her tone was filled with admiration and enthusiasm, like she was praising her idol.

　　His brush paused briefly on the page. His lips pressed into a thin line.

　　It was the first time she had ever praised him so genuinely.

　　As if he’d done something grand, like a hero saving people from suffering.

　　He lifted his eyes slightly and saw her pale face still pinched with pain—but those eyes, those starry eyes, sparkled brightly, reflecting a small, clear image of a person.

　　And that person was him.

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