The Overlord Flower's Guide to Intercepting a Woman's Wife's Death and the Male Lead&

Su Xingmian sat on the ground.

My lips were covered with a layer of white skin, with several fine cracks, one of which was oozing blood.

The cotton-padded coat had somehow slipped down to below the shoulders, revealing the collar of the blue cotton jacket underneath.

Because I held the cylinder for too long, all ten of my fingers were bent into an arc, and I couldn't straighten them.

She looked up at him.

He knelt on one knee in front of her, still a head taller than her.

Blood was still seeping from his left arm, and the sleeve of his military uniform was soaked, but he didn't even glance at it.

First, he gently pulled her cotton coat back up from her shoulders, his movements so light that his fingers only touched the fabric, not her.

Then I tried to pry her fingers open.

As you pry each strand outwards, the joints make a soft, cracking sound.

Su Xingmian remained silent, staring at his hand.

The fingers are long with distinct joints and thin calluses on the fingertips.

When they tied He Yaozu up just now, they tightened the knot quickly and forcefully.

When they pried open her fingers, it was so slow it didn't seem like they were using the same hands.

He spread all ten fingers apart, and the cylinder rolled out of her arms. He caught it with one hand and placed it on the gravel next to him.

Her hand was free; he held it in his palm.

His hands were frighteningly hot.

Su Xingmian's fingertips were enveloped by that heat, which traveled all the way to her wrist, leaving her feeling tingly and numb.

Zhou Bingheng looked down at her hand.

All ten fingers were ice cold. The pulse was beating steadily and strongly, but slowly, only half the speed of a normal person.

There were red marks on the back of his hand from the pebbles, and sand was stuck in his fingernails.

He clenched his fist a little tighter.

Her voice was very low, so low that only she could hear it.

"Su Xingmian".

He called her by her full name for the first time.

"I'm telling you, you're not allowed to leave Third Brother's side for even a moment, and you're not allowed to act alone."

Su Xingmian's eyelashes trembled slightly.

"You didn't listen to a single one."

His tone was gentle, and his voice was warm, no different from when he spoke normally.

But the hand gripping her tightened its hold.

Joints pressed together, palm lines overlapped palm lines, so forcefully that she could count the position of each of his finger bones.

A sudden rush of heat surged into Su Xingmian's nasal cavity.

I only felt this way on the day my grandmother passed away.

She opened her mouth, as if to say something to defend herself.

For example, I'm helping you.

For example, didn't you find me?

All of it was blocked by the burning heat in his palm.

"elder brother."

Su Xingmian looked up at him, her voice soft and weak, with a slight upward slant at the end.

"I was wrong."

Zhou Bingheng's Adam's apple bobbed.

Her voice was hoarse from dehydration, but the sweetness was still there, exactly the same as when I first heard it on the phone.

He stretched out his hand.

Su Xingmian saw the hand coming toward her forehead and instinctively closed her eyes.

Zhou Bingwen once said that when his second brother was a child, he would flick his forehead with great accuracy and pain.

She pulled her head back an inch.

A warm embrace enveloped her completely.

He has an injury on his left arm, so he uses his right hand.

His hand moved from her fingers to the back of her head, his fingers running through her messy, bird's nest-like hair, and he pressed down gently.

It's so hot.

He was like a heated kang bed, his chest and arms were burning hot.

His chin rested on her head, his breath falling in one breath at a time.

Su Xingmian paused for a moment.

Then, deep within his soul, the bud of the dwarf flower, shriveled into a dried core, cracked open.

The heat flowed from his body into every meridian of hers, grinding over the contracted roots and washing over the frozen flower buds.

Driven by her instincts, all pretense crumbled at that moment.

Her forehead touched his chest, and the tip of her nose brushed against the third button of his shirt.

"Brother, Mianmian is so cold."

The sound was muffled inside his clothes, with a nasal tone.

His heartbeat came from his chest, steady and strong, making her flower bud tremble again.

Zhou Bingheng's breath hitched for a second.

Not only were her hands icy, but her body was also abnormally cold.

He tightened his arms around her, pulling her completely into his embrace. He rested his chin on the top of her head, placed his right palm on the back of her head, and ran his thumb through her hair.

Strands of lime and hay dust were caught in his hair, scraping against his fingertips.

He patted it gently twice.

"My fiancée, I've come to pick you up."

Su Xingmian buried her face in his chest and didn't look up.

The flower bud had already unfurled to the third layer of petals, and its roots were greedily reaching for its source of heat.

She smelled his clean, crisp scent, as pure and refreshing as frost and snow, yet beneath that frost and snow lay a burning heat.

Her old fox nature is indeed potent.

My eyes are burning.

A drop of water rolled down his eyelashes and landed on his shirt, spreading a small dark patch.

His heartbeat quickened, then slowed down again.

Su Xingmian's hand reached out from under his cotton-padded coat and grasped the hem of his military uniform at his waist.

It was gripped very tightly.

Zhou Bingheng did not move.

He knelt on the gravel ground, holding a cold girl who was inexplicably cold, and patted her back repeatedly.

Liang Jin stood about twenty paces away, his back to them and facing the cavalry company, his arms outstretched to block them.

"Turn around, all of you! What are you looking at! Haven't you ever seen a political commissar carrying his wife before?!"

Xiao Zhao poked half his head out, with half a piece of dry rations in his mouth.

"But Battalion Commander, I really haven't seen him before..."

"Turn around! Are you even going to work? Can't you see there's still someone lying there? Where's the medic?"

The cavalry company of about twenty men turned 180 degrees in unison, each busy with their own tasks.

The morning light of the Gobi Desert spread out, casting long shadows of the two people, overlapping on the gravel, making it impossible to distinguish the boundaries.

Su Xingmian buried her face in his shirt.

Bingwen was right. No matter how harsh the wind and sand in Northwest China are, with this kang (heated brick bed) protecting her, this tough flower won't suffer.

In the distance, a military jeep kicked up a cloud of yellow dust from the northeast, speeding so fast that it sent stones flying.

Before the car had even come to a complete stop, the back door was kicked open from the inside.

Zhou Bingwen jumped down carrying a medical kit, his hair covered in sand and dust, his eyes red-rimmed.

He ran three steps and saw his second brother and Su Xingmian.

Then I saw the blood soaking into my second brother's left arm.

Then, he saw Su Xingmian's hand clutching his second brother's clothes, his ten fingers pale and his nails bloodless.

Zhou Bingwen's medical kit crashed to the ground, the latch popped open, and two rolls of gauze rolled out.

His lips trembled, but he didn't say anything. He squatted down and rummaged through the box.

Su Xingmian turned half of her face out from Zhou Bingheng's embrace.

"Bingwen."

She has a very soft voice.

Zhou Bingwen stopped what he was doing and looked up at her.

Su Xingmian's lips curved slightly.

"The brown sugar cake is delicious; I saved one for you."

"Unfortunately, they were confiscated by human traffickers."

Zhou Bingwen's nose tingled, and tears fell directly onto the iodine bottle.

He took a breath, his voice muffled and choked.

"I'll buy you a hundred when we get back."

Su Xingmian didn't speak, buried her face back in the warm fabric, and closed her eyes.

She hasn't slept in a long time.

Her breathing gradually became longer and more even, and the fingers that were gripping the hem of her clothes loosened a little bit, then a little bit more.

In the end, only two fingers remained, hooking onto the fabric around his waist, like a vine entwining itself around the nearest branch, refusing to let go.

Zhou Bingheng glanced down at it.

Her cheek was pressed against his chest, her eyelashes were closed, and the tip of her nose was slightly red.

He placed his palm on the back of her head, the warmth of his palm seeping down little by little.

After a long time, he felt that her fingertips were no longer cold.

But her body temperature rose to a certain level and then stopped.