Re-birth: The Beginning after the End-Chapter 189: BITTER MEDICINE TURNED SWEET
With reluctant gentleness, Mo Xing guided her to the bathroom after she insisted she could stand, his towering presence softened as he matched his pace to her faltering steps, his hand steady at her elbow.
Behind the closed door, Li Hua took a moment to refresh herself, studying her reflection in the mirror. Her fingers trembled slightly as she cupped her hands and allowed spirit water's to fill them, watching the liquid shimmer.
She drank deeply, desperately, as if trying to quench a thirst that went beyond physical need. Again and again she filled her hands, drinking until her stomach protested its fullness, but still the thirst remained—as if her very soul was parched from being scattered across realities.
She felt her energy returning to her and the pain gradually subsiding.
When she came out of the bathroom, Mo Xing was already lounging on her bed holding a small bowl of brown liquid that smelled exactly as unpleasant as it looked.
She couldn't help but wrinkle her nose, the gesture making her feel more like herself again. "Since we're being honest..." she said with a hint of her usual spirit, "I hate bitter medicine."
"Oh?" His eyes gleamed with sudden mischief, that dangerous smile playing at his lips. "And here I thought the fierce Little Tempest wasn't afraid of anything." He swirled the liquid deliberately, watching her expression. "Would it help if I fed it to you? Or perhaps..." his voice dropped to that honeyed baritone, "we could find a more interesting way to make you take it?"
The heat that crept up her neck had nothing to do with her recovery, and from his widening smile, he knew it. Even weakened, their game of cat and mouse continued—though she was beginning to wonder which role she truly played.
"I can take it myself," she managed, trying to reach for the bowl, but her arms still trembled slightly from earlier exertion. His smile deepened at her obvious struggle, and before she could protest, he had shifted closer, one hand sliding behind her back to support her while the other held the medicine.
"Now then, Little Tempest," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear, "shall we do this the easy way, or would you prefer to make it interesting?"
The proximity made her pulse stutter traitorously. Even now, weakened and at his mercy, something in her refused to yield completely. "That depends," she found herself saying, her voice steadier than she felt, "on what you consider interesting."
Follow current novℯls on ƒгeewёbnovel.com.
His low chuckle vibrated through her, and she realized too late that she might have just walked into another of his carefully laid traps.
Before she could retreat, Mo Xing lifted the bowl to his own lips, taking a slow sip of the medicine. His eyes never left hers, dark with intent. Then he leaned in, one hand cupping her cheek with surprising gentleness. She had a moment to register what was about to happen—her heart thundering against her ribs—before his lips met hers.
The kiss tasted of bitter medicine and something sweeter, more dangerous. She found herself responding before her mind could catch up, her fingers curling into his robes. The medicine passed between them, but its bitterness faded to nothing, overwhelmed by the intoxicating way his lips moved against hers—gentle yet commanding, as if he'd been waiting centuries for this moment.
His thumb traced her jawline with devastating tenderness while his other hand at her waist drew her closer, eliminating what little space remained between them. The contrast between his touch—soft as morning light—and the steel of his control dancing beneath the surface made her dizzy with wanting. Each point of contact sparked with awareness, as if her very soul recognized his touch.
Time seemed to still, reality narrowing to just this moment. Something stirred in her chest—a feeling both foreign and familiar, like remembering a dream she'd never had. In all her lives—she'd never felt quite like this, as if some missing piece of herself had finally clicked into place. The sensation was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
When he finally pulled back, she drew in a ragged breath, suddenly aware she'd forgotten to breathe. Her lungs burned sweetly as the air rushed in, head spinning from more than just the medicine. That knowing smile had returned to his features, though his eyes held something darker, more intense. There was a hint of surprise there too, as if he'd felt it as well—that inexplicable sense of rightness, of completion. "Now, was that so terrible, Little Tempest?"
"So sweet," she whispered, the words slipping out before she could catch them. Her heart continued its erratic dance against her ribs, and she realized with startling clarity that this man had just irreversibly altered something fundamental in her world. The thought should have terrified her more than it did. She inhaled shakily, trying to steady her breathing, but the lingering scent of him only made her pulse quicken further.
His expression shifted at her words, that knowing smile softening into something more genuine, more vulnerable.
Then his thumb brushed across her bottom lip, catching a drop of medicine she hadn't noticed. The gesture was so tender, it reminded her of the fragments of memories from her dream.
"The rest?" he murmured, lifting the bowl again. The playful glint had returned to his eyes, but something softer lingered in his expression. "Or shall we continue with our... alternative method?"
She found herself fighting a smile despite the heat in her cheeks. "I can manage the bowl myself now," she said, though her voice carried none of its usual frost. When he handed her the medicine, their fingers brushed, sending another wave of that inexplicable warmth through her.
This time, she barely noticed the bitterness as she drained the bowl. Perhaps because the sweetness of his kiss still lingered on her lips, or perhaps because his hand remained at her waist, steady and warm—as if he couldn't quite bring himself to break contact completely.
