An Zi yuan gazed at her deeply, then suddenly applied a gentle but firm pressure to her back, instantly flipping her over. The blanket that had covered both of them slid off. On her snow-white back, where it should have been smooth and pale, a jagged scar ran from shoulder to waist, dominating the area. Around it, countless fine, intricate scars were scattered haphazardly across her back. "Su Wan," he said, his voice hoarse as his cool fingertips traced the intricate scars. "Is that right?" Cloud Rao remained pale and stiff, letting his gaze slowly examine the scarred area inch by inch. Her body trembled slightly—whether from the cold or something else, she could not tell. "How did you survive back then?" he asked, his voice soft and strained, as though something were lodged in his throat. "When she fell from the cliff, she was caught by protruding rocks and branches, which slowed her descent. Fortunately, she still had some breath when she hit the ground and was saved by Xiao Run who happened to pass by." Yun Rao replied softly. "Were all these injuries caused by scraping during the fall?" An Ziyuan asked, gazing at her calm profile. Yun Rao nodded gently. "Yes, there are many stones and branches jutting out from the cliff face, so she scraped against them." "How severe were the injuries?" he asked. Yun Rao lowered her gaze, nodding softly. "Yes, I lay in bed for a full year before I could finally get up." The wound on her back had split open, her body was covered in scrapes, one arm had been rendered useless, and when she fell, her elbow had torn through flesh and muscle—so badly that the bone beneath was almost visible. Her internal organs had nearly shifted positions, and to survive at all was a miracle. "Very... painful, wasn't it?" he asked, his voice still soft but growing increasingly hoarse. Yun Rao nodded lightly, her face resting against the pillow, and only after a while did she speak slowly. "Very painful." "Simple—those two characters seemed to carry away almost all the suffering. At just ten years old, she was covered in wounds, with family members passing away. Each day, she endured immense pain, unable to lie down, stand, or sit. She could neither eat nor drink, and throughout the night, the pain kept her awake, yet she didn't know why she had to keep living—perhaps, in that pure, unadulterated heart, the word 'death' had never truly existed. He caressed her tongue, kissing her with care and tenderness, as if holding a precious treasure in his hands, gently drawing down her defenses, one delicate stroke at a time. "Yun Rao, Wanwan," after a while, he released her lips and looked into her eyes, "There will be no 'next time.' If there is, I'll save you first." A quiet, contented smile bloomed gently at her lips, with a soft gleam of joy and moisture in her eyes. Her two slender arms, weak and delicate, wrapped around his neck, shy and fresh, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "Yes," she replied, her cheek resting against his, her voice both satisfied and sweet. Anziyuan once again settled on her lips and tongue, savoring the growing warmth and stirring sensation beneath her, where he felt her body responding. "Are you still able to bear it?" he asked, his voice husky. Yun Rao blushed slightly and nodded gently, before she could open her mouth, An Zi yuan had already pressed his lips firmly against hers again. She gasped, lying back on the bed as he held her down, her hands tightly pressed against the side of her head by his palms. A sudden surge of warmth and fullness between them caused both of them to softly murmur in surprise—rich, sweet, and deeply satisfying. She didn't even need her hand touched for Yun Rao to smoothly shift her aside. Turning around, she offered him a smile. "Alright." An Zi yuan looked at her. "Give me your hand. I'll take your pulse for you." A slight pause lingered in her eyes as her left hand unconsciously tucked itself deeper into the pillow. With a slow motion, her right hand emerged from the sheets and settled into his hands. An Zi yuan furrowed his brows, taking her pulse for a while, his frown deepening with each passing moment—her pulse was weaker than ever before. "What's going on?" he asked, gazing at her. "Why has it been getting progressively weaker day by day? Her spirit seems much better than it did a few days ago, yet her pulse continues to weaken." "At the time she fell from the cliff, her body wasn't properly restored, so her pulse has always been delicate," she replied. "Then, what happened when you were struck by the poison that day? What kind of poison was it?" An Zi yuan asked, as he had never heard of any symptoms resembling hers.