Bai Qingqing had a deeply restful sleep, dreamless and sweet as pitch. When she opened her eyes, for a moment she couldn’t remember where she was.
She moved her arm slightly, and her brows instantly knotted into a deep frown—it didn’t even feel like her own limb. It had gone completely numb.
“You slept like that all this time? What were you so busy with to get this tired?”
At the sound of Ning Yan’s voice, Bai Qingqing turned toward him at once. Her round eyes drooped at the corners, full of pitiful grievance. “My arm’s numb. I can’t move it. What should I do…”
She’d never had her arm go numb before—no feeling at all, like a block of wood. Panic flickered across her face, and her voice quivered on the edge of tears as she instinctively turned to Ning Yan for help.
Ning Yan let out a long breath. He stepped forward to gently support her arm, but before he even touched her, she whimpered, “Be gentle…”
Her free hand fluttered awkwardly, unsure where to rest, finally clutching a tiny edge of his sleeve, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “What if I can never move it again…”
He glanced down at the subtle tug of fabric, then looked away as though he hadn’t seen it. “It’s just been compressed too long. I know how to deal with it. Let me help.”
In truth, it would recover on its own with a bit of time. But seeing her so frightened—well, how could he not do something?
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Ning Yan once again discovered in himself a hidden virtue: a willingness to help others. His large hand carefully wrapped around her slender arm and began to knead and massage it.
He kept his strength in check, recalling the pressure points Wen Jiang had once explained to him. Bai Qingqing’s expression shifted from anxious confusion to wide-eyed dread.
The numb, lifeless arm gradually began to regain sensation—but it was far from pleasant. It felt like a thousand needles pricking her skin, sharp and relentless. Bai Qingqing’s fingers clenched instinctively around Ning Yan’s sleeve from the pain.
Ning Yan didn’t ease up. “If it hurts, that means it’s working. Once the blood flows again, you’ll be fine.”
But Bai Qingqing couldn’t take it. The stinging was unbearable—she wanted to stomp her foot right there, desperate to pull her arm away. “Stop, let go, it hurts!”
She tugged hard at his sleeve in panic, but her strength barely registered. Ning Yan didn’t budge.
The pain mounted. Bai Qingqing bit her lip fiercely, eyes brimming red with tears. Seeing that brute force wouldn’t work, she quickly switched tactics, her gaze softening into a silent plea.
Before she could say a word, Ning Yan raised one hand and gently covered her eyes.
With her sight blocked, her hearing seemed to sharpen. She heard his voice, low and hoarse, almost like he was grinding his teeth. “Don’t look at people like that. No one can resist.”
His other hand moved to press the acupoint again, then finally released her. The burning in her arm slowly began to fade.
Ning Yan stared at Bai Qingqing as she cradled her arm like a survivor of a great ordeal, tears still clinging to her lashes. Her pitiful look made him recall how she’d looked just moments ago.
She really had no self-awareness at all. That expression of hers—it made a man want to bully her, to push her until she cried…
Ning Yan inhaled deeply again, silently reminding himself that he was a righteous man, a helper of the weak. The girl was timid—he must’ve scared her. She’d probably curl up and hide from him now.
Bai Qingqing, meanwhile, was too busy feeling sorry for her poor, fragile little arm. Though it still tingled faintly, at least she could feel it again.
As she wiped the tears from her face, she cast a side-eyed glare at Ning Yan. Too rough! What a brute!