Chapter 70: Is This the Legendary Dog Waist…
Tianjiao had just told a rather clumsy lie, so Lihua was now feeling extremely guilty.
If Gan Qiongying were to press him in detail about what he had been doing out in the middle of the night, he wouldn’t be able to explain it clearly.
Lihua was terrified that Gan Qiongying would misunderstand him because of this. He had thought of many excuses in his mind, but none of them could perfectly gloss over tonight’s events.
However, he soon didn’t need to worry anymore.
Gan Qiongying didn’t bother to question why he had gone out at this hour. Instead, with hands that had just crawled out from under the blankets—hands that felt scalding to Lihua—she grasped his icy fingers and quickly pulled him from the corridor back into the room.
Gan Qiongying held Lihua’s hand, dragged him to the table, and personally poured him a cup of warm water.
“Drink some. I’ll have someone make ginger soup in a moment.”
Gan Qiongying’s face was full of reproach, but her voice was soft and gentle, just like the warm water Lihua drank, flowing slowly down his throat, from his stomach into his heart, making his whole body feel warm and cozy.
Gan Qiongying continued giving orders: “Tianjiao, go wake Manyue and have her go to Princess Hui’an’s place to find Aunt Wumei. Ask her to bring Princess Hui’an’s personal Imperial Physician. Just say the Consort has caught a chill and needs to expel the cold.”
Hearing this, Lihua quickly grabbed Gan Qiongying’s hand and said, “It’s not that serious. I’m just a little wet. Isn’t it inappropriate to trouble Princess Hui’an’s people so late at night?”
“Just a little wet? Don’t you know your own body?”
Gan Qiongying glared at Lihua and said, “Your hands are already as cold as a dead person’s. If you don’t quickly drink some cold-expelling medicine as a precaution, you’ll be running a high fever by tomorrow noon.”
“The physician in the residence has long said that your constitution is inherently weak from birth. You absolutely must not catch a chill and need to be carefully nurtured.”
“What were you listening to during your usual pulse readings?”
In the ancient world, there were no antibiotics for illnesses. Since crossing over, Gan Qiongying had always eaten well and slept soundly, fearing she might fall ill. Now, she was also afraid that Lihua might accidentally die.
After all, in the original plot, Lihua was supposed to die.
Gan Qiongying’s rapid-fire rebuttals left Lihua speechless.
His body was indeed very weak. Whenever the seasons changed or the weather fluctuated, he was extremely prone to falling ill. Every time he caught a cold, it lingered for a long time, refusing to heal.
He truly was weak from birth… It was because of this weakness that he became the one who was abandoned.
But for so many years, no one—not even himself—had ever taken his inherent weakness seriously.
Lihua had even resented his weak body for a time and had wondered more than once: if he had been stronger, would he have been the one abandoned?
Yet on this ordinary rainy night, as he watched Gan Qiongying’s exaggerated, nervous concern, Lihua suddenly felt that whether his body was weak or not didn’t seem to matter anymore.
Gan Qiongying always managed, in the most unexpected moments, to traverse the long years and manually close the wounds in Lihua’s heart that had refused to heal for so long.
For a moment, Lihua felt his nose tingling with emotion.
Tianjiao quickly ran out to fetch someone. Gan Qiongying then turned to San Jiu, who had been standing frozen at the door, also stunned by her words. “What are you doing just standing there? Go change into dry clothes right now.”
“Later, if your master doesn’t fall ill but you do, I’ll have to assign people to take care of you.”
“Go change your clothes, then head to the kitchen and bring over the medicinal heat packs prepared last night.”
With these words, Gan Qiongying was essentially telling Lihua indirectly that she knew he hadn’t used the heat packs.
Upon hearing this, Lihua’s breath hitched.
His hand gripping the cup tightened abruptly.
San Jiu also stiffened, his burly body going rigid as if struck by a blow, and he looked toward Lihua.
But neither master nor servant faced any further questioning. Gan Qiongying merely glanced at Lihua and reached out to wipe away the rainwater that had splashed onto his chin when he returned in the rain.
She urged San Jiu, “Hurry up and go!”
San Jiu responded gruffly, “Yes!”
Then he plunged back into the rain, not even bothering to grab the umbrella left by the door.
By now, Lihua had finished his cup of water, and Gan Qiongying immediately began helping him undress.
“The maids are all busy, so I’ll help you change. You’re completely soaked… If you keep wearing these wet clothes, your skin will wrinkle.”
The lamplight in the room was dim and warm. Gan Qiongying’s long hair cascaded loosely, and she wore a plain white undergarment, her face free of makeup. Her usual bold and haughty demeanor seemed entirely softened by the gentle glow cast upon her.
She was tender and beautiful, like a dream.
A dream so perfect that even in Lihua’s wildest fantasies of having a family, he had never imagined anything this lovely.
Gan Qiongying led Lihua behind the screen, rummaged through a chest for a set of dry clothes, and began manually removing his outer garments.
Lihua kept his head lowered, watching Gan Qiongying. If his decision to meet Zhongli Zhengzhen tonight had been a desperate, reckless gamble driven by confusion and stubbornness, then at this moment, he felt it was the most correct choice he had ever made.
The outer robe came off, then the inner garment, until only the damp undergarment clinging to his skin remained.
Lihua cooperated silently throughout, raising his arms, tilting his head back.
Gan Qiongying was solely focused on ensuring her “God of Wealth” didn’t catch a cold. Her movements were swift and efficient.
In the blink of an eye, she had stripped off Lihua’s upper garments. But when she faced his chest—not as heavily muscled as a martial guard’s, yet covered with a thin layer of firm, supple muscle, broad and smooth—she froze.
Then, a flush spread uncontrollably across her face.
Because in both her lifetimes, and despite her notorious reputation in this one, this was the first time Gan Qiongying had ever seen a living man’s chest up close.
Lihua’s chest was damp and pale, with a few strands of wet, dark hair clinging to it, rising and falling gently with his breath.
They were standing extremely close, so close that Gan Qiongying felt if Lihua breathed any harder, his pectoral muscles might bump into her!
She never saw him exercise. Though his chest muscles weren’t exaggerated, where did they come from?
Do account books build pectoral muscles?
Gan Qiongying’s gaze uncontrollably drifted downward, and sure enough, she saw that Lihua actually had abdominal muscles. Though the definition was faint, they were indeed there, and his waist was also very slender.
She hadn’t noticed it being this slim when she usually held him.
Yet, though slender, it wasn’t thin—it looked quite powerful.
Was this the legendary “greyhound waist”…
Aren’t gods of wealth supposed to be… well, plump?
Gan Qiongying’s mind was a bit muddled, and in this state of confusion, she discovered, even more chaotically, that her hands had moved faster than her thoughts—they were already gripping Lihua’s belt.
The knot had already been tugged loose.
The trousers, heavy with moisture, were sliding down Lihua’s greyhound waist in a steady, rhythmic motion… inch by inch.
Gan Qiongying’s eyes widened, her entire body stiff as she stared at the descending trousers. Apart from clutching Lihua’s belt, she could muster no other reaction.