Quick Transmigration: The Sweetheart Everyone Loves Is Stuck in Romantic Chaos Every Day - Chapter 65

Ruan Tang thought he was scared. Lifting her wide, dewy fawn-like eyes, she gave him a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, Zijun-gege, I’ll be very gentle—it won’t hurt at all.”

That upward gaze, so innocent and trusting, sent He Lian Zijun’s heartbeat into chaos.

Too much… this was too much!

He clenched his jaw, fighting a losing battle with himself.

The girl, all unknowing, focused only on carefully applying the medicine.

After finishing the treatment, she pressed a small piece of gauze to his wound and wound it firmly with a strip of thin, pale-pink fabric—wrapping round and round until the bandage was neat and secure.

Wait… pink gauze?

He Lian Zijun instinctively glanced down at Ruan Tang’s skirt.

“This cloth strip—”

Before he could even finish the question, the answer was obvious.

Her ankle-length skirt was now a good deal shorter, baring tender, snowy calves and the delicate curve of her ankles.

Around one ankle, a red cord was tied, strung with a tiny silver bell.

No wonder he kept hearing the faint, crisp jingling—he had thought it an illusion.

That red string, the silver bell, and her fragile pale ankle… together, the sight was nothing short of criminal.

In an instant, his mind filled with an unbidden image:

His broad hand gripping that slender leg, lifting it high—the silver bell ringing again and again, crisp and relentless, like willow branches tossed and battered in storm winds.

Damn… damn it—

“Eh?”

The girl let out a soft sound of surprise, startled by something she’d noticed.

He Lian Zijun’s ears burned scarlet. In a panic, he shoved Ruan Tang back against the cave wall, bracing one arm by her face, eyes darting everywhere but hers.

“Y-you didn’t see anything, right!!”

Ruan Tang only blinked up at him, baffled by his outburst.

Humiliation and frustration tangled in him. Yet when he turned his head, those innocent eyes were still fixed on him with such sweetness that his self-control snapped.

He tilted up her delicate chin and crushed his mouth to hers.

This kiss was nothing like the last—fierce, frantic, as though he wanted to swallow her whole.

Ruan Tang’s little hands fluttered against his chest, trying weakly to push him away, but she didn’t dare use strength for fear of jarring his wound. Helpless, she let out soft, kittenish whimpers, pleading for him to stop.

Instead, He Lian Zijun only deepened the kiss, his hunger spiraling out of control.

Ruan Tang felt as though she were melting entirely into him…

And then—

A hoarse, pained voice broke through the cave.

“TangTang?”

Ruan Tang froze, startled, turning her head toward the sound.

She found herself staring into a pair of long, bloodshot eyes, heavy with exhaustion and grief.

“General-gege?” (t/n: “gege” again conveys closeness; here it also carries a sense of Ruan Tang’s lingering affection for Tuoba Hong despite the tension between them.)

Tuoba Hong hadn’t slept in three days, scouring along the riverbank in search of her.

When he stumbled upon this cave entrance, he hadn’t dared hope.

He had already searched through countless such caves—only dens of small animals, with no trace of human life.

But as he approached this one, he had heard it—faint, breathless little cries, soft enough to make the heart melt.

Yet to him, they pierced like silver needles into his chest.

He knew that voice.

It was Ruan Tang’s.

She had made those same helpless sounds in his arms before, when he had pushed her too far—half-pleading, half-pouting, the kind of noise that only made him lose control even more.

And now… now who was it?

Who dared—

When he finally saw her pinned against the rock wall, kissed and devoured by another, and that man turned out to be the Haixi prince, He Lian Zijun—

The killing intent in Tuoba Hong’s eyes nearly took form.

Then his gaze fell further.

Their clothes were in disarray—He Lian Zijun’s belt undone, his hem rumpled; Ruan Tang’s skirt hacked short, riding up nearly to her thighs, her collar loose and revealing pale stretches of skin.

A roaring filled Tuoba Hong’s skull. Only one thought remained—

That dog of a prince must die.

With a harsh rasp, he drew the long sword from his hip. His eyes burned crimson, like a vengeful spirit crawling out of hell.

Through gritted teeth, he growled:

“Let her go if you want to live.”

He Lian Zijun met Tuoba Hong’s glare coldly. The memory of what Tuoba Hong had once done to Ruan Tang darkened his expression further.

He opened his mouth, ready to spit venom back—but then Ruan Tang slipped in front of him, shielding him with her small frame.

Her eyes were still misty, their corners flushed pink.

Her lips glistened, swollen and rosy—obviously kissed far too thoroughly.

Tuoba Hong’s chest clenched tight.

That soft, tender girl—the same one who had once nestled in his arms—was now standing protectively in front of another man.

“General-gege, you can’t hurt him… he saved me…”

The words pierced deeper than any blade.

He remembered her once telling him softly, too—

“Thank you for saving me.”

But now, she said it for someone else.

His body swayed, almost imperceptibly. Despair flickered in his gaze, though a last fragile hope clung stubbornly.

“…He forced you, didn’t he?”

Ruan Tang frowned slightly, as though giving it genuine thought, then shook her head, answering with quiet seriousness.

“No…”

She hesitated, then cast him a timid look, her voice wounded and soft.

“He didn’t do it the way you did…”

Tuoba Hong’s strength drained in an instant, his sword slipping in his grip.

A moment later, he let it fall completely, staggering back against the wall, pale and hollow-eyed.

Of course.

What right did he have to accuse anyone else?

It was he who had wronged her most deeply.

It was he who had driven her to flee, who had nearly put her in peril.

And yet… this other man had kept her safe.

Relief and heartache collided inside him, leaving him shaken.

But watching her stand so close, so tender, with another man—the bitterness seared through him, cutting deeper than any wound.

Dragging his sword, Tuoba Hong stepped forward again.

Ruan Tang tensed, quickly throwing herself in front of He Lian Zijun once more.

“You’re not allowed to hurt him—”

Tuoba Hong stiffened. Then, with a bitter sigh, he lowered his gaze.

He laid his long sword flat across his palms and held it out to her.

“Take it.”

Ruan Tang blinked, bewildered. “Why are you giving me this?”

The next moment, the tall, proud man dropped to his knees before her with a heavy thud.

He bowed his head, baring his neck in a posture of utter submission, like a man offering himself up for execution.

His voice was hoarse, but steady:

“TangTang, last time was my fault. If it will ease your anger, do whatever you wish to me. I won’t fight back. Kill me if you must—so long as it makes you happy.”

At the end, a trace of self-mocking laughter roughened his tone.

Ruan Tang stared, stunned. The sword in her hands felt unbearably heavy.

Behind her, He Lian Zijun gave a cold, disdainful snort.

“TangTang, you can’t bring yourself to do it, right? Give me the sword. I’ll kill him for you.”

A rival in love—better one less than one more.

Of course, he would be more than glad.