Quick Transmigration: The Sweetheart Everyone Loves Is Stuck in Romantic Chaos Every Day - Chapter 67

Tuoba Hong gathered in his sharp-edged aura until it was as though he truly were nothing more than a lowly servant—not the glorious, arrogant general who once dominated the battlefield.

When a man of such high rank and power could abase himself so completely, all for a single backward glance, a single smile from her—

It could only mean one thing: he loved her, desperately.

Helian Zijun’s smile faded, irritation flaring as he clicked his tongue and stepped into the carriage, leaving Tuoba Hong behind.

Honestly.

None of the men around Ruan Tang could be called “easy to deal with.”

In truth, Tuoba Hong’s concealment of Ruan Tang’s whereabouts was not free of selfish intent.

He didn’t want the prince to know she was still alive.

If not for her insistence on going to Haixi, he had already resolved to spirit her away elsewhere—
Anywhere but back to the prince’s manor.

And so, once his plans were disrupted, he sent a carrier pigeon to his subordinates.

They arranged for two bodies of similar build and spread the false report that “Ruan Tang and Helian Zijun have perished.”

…

When Luo Qingli received the news, he fell ill once more, his body too frail to withstand the blow.

Barely able to walk, he had to be supported by attendants to view the supposed corpses. The despair on his face was so raw that even the servants at his side could not bear to look.

Another who heard the news was Gucheng.

The moment he did, his hands and feet went cold, the world around him plunged into darkness.

Late that night, he infiltrated the place where the bodies were stored. Enduring the pain in his chest, he lifted the white cloth—only to sharply sense something amiss.

“It’s not her.”

Relief crashed through him like a man granted life after death; his knees nearly gave out beneath him.

But if someone had gone so far as to plant false corpses and spread such a rumor, it meant Ruan Tang had once again fallen into someone else’s hands.

“Miss… wait for me. I will come to save you.”

In the depth of night, the man’s eyes gleamed with unwavering, icy determination, sharp as a blade unsheathed.

…

At the largest inn in town—

Tuoba Hong personally brought armfuls of fine dresses, delicate pastries, savory snacks, and little trinkets to Ruan Tang’s room.

Even the bath bucket, he carried in himself.

He poured the water with his own hands, scattering fragrant petals across the surface, the temperature just right.

Ruan Tang lay lazily against the soft couch, watching him bustle about.

Her body ached with fatigue; even her bones felt weary. Drowsiness weighed her down.

After two days of sleepless nights in the cavern, now that she was finally in a safe place, her guard fell at last. Her little head bobbed like a pecking chick, dipping lower and lower.

Tuoba Hong’s lips curved in a smile filled with tenderness.

“TangTang, bathe first, then sleep. You’ll be uncomfortable otherwise.”

Her long lashes drooped; curled up on the soft couch, she looked like a drowsy kitten, so soft he wanted nothing more than to draw her into his arms and spoil her thoroughly.

“So sleepy… don’t want to move…”

His voice coaxed, gentle as water. “Be good. It won’t take long.”

She lifted her curled lashes with effort, her voice sweet and languid with exhaustion, unbearably endearing.

“I just want to sleep…”

Tuoba Hong crouched before her, gaze searing as it fell on this obedient, delicate girl.

“Do you want me to help you?”

“Mn… how would you help?”

She was like a blank page, innocent and pure, her peach-blossom eyes untainted by any worldly thought—yet to a man, lethally alluring.

His Adam’s apple bobbed heavily, eyes darkening.

His voice came hoarse. “I’ll help TangTang bathe. Will that be all right?”

The little kitten was nearly asleep, murmuring dreamlike words he could barely catch.

So he leaned closer, voice low and magnetic, like a spell.

“Be good. Let me carry you over, hmm?”

Half-asleep, Ruan Tang stretched out her slender white arms, reaching as if for an embrace.

“Gege, hug me…” (t/n: “gege” is an intimate way to call an older male, often used tenderly or coquettishly.)

Tuoba Hong’s body went rigid, a blaze roaring up from the depths of his chest.

He wanted more than just to hold her—he wanted to fuse her into his very bones, to torment her with love, to claim her completely until every inch of her belonged to him.

But he restrained himself with iron will.

He couldn’t make that mistake. She trusted him now only because she was half-conscious. He could not shatter that fragile, precious trust.

So instead, he slipped the sash from her waist and bound it across his own eyes.

The gauzy fabric blurred his sight—he could still vaguely see her silhouette, but indistinct, indistinguishable.

Lowering his head, he gathered the soft, bewitching girl gently into his arms.

“All right. I’ll carry TangTang over.”

He thought that shielding his sight could sever his sinful desire.

But he had overestimated his restraint.

With sight dimmed, his hearing and touch grew unbearably acute.

Piece by piece, his trembling fingers slipped her garments away. Each brush of her delicate skin was like touching a wisp of cloud—weightless, yielding.

His calloused hand cupped her slender waist.

So small, so fragile, as if the slightest pressure would snap her.

And that small hollow at her waist—it nearly stole his soul away.

As though handling the most fragile treasure, he set her carefully into the bath. Her soft sigh of contentment nearly unraveled his control completely.

Worse still, the gauzy veil gave her curves an added allure: half-revealed, half-hidden, pure and tempting all at once.

Faced with his beloved so defenseless before him, Tuoba Hong’s eyes burned red with suppressed desire.

Even so, he held himself back, bathing and clothing her with painstaking care.

Only after dressing her, laying her in bed, and tucking in the quilt, did he dare remove the sash from his eyes.

His forehead was damp with sweat, his breath harsh and uneven.

This trial was harder than the cruelest torture.

Ruan Tang curled under the blankets, blinking sleepily with misted peach-blossom eyes.

She could barely see who stood before her. All she knew was that her body felt clean and comfortable.

So she gave him a sweet smile.

“Thank you, gege.”

That smile, that soft voice—it was like another log thrown onto the fire raging in his chest.

His body tightened unbearably. He dared not linger.

With a hoarse “good night,” he fled the room.

He didn’t even return to his quarters—he vaulted over the rooftops and plunged straight into a cold mountain stream to douse himself.

…

And so, the next day—

Well-rested, Helian Zijun was back to his brilliant self.

Golden hair gleamed, fair and exquisite features framed by the most luxurious robe trimmed in gold thread.

Every gesture radiated princely splendor.

Ruan Tang, too, awoke refreshed, her face glowing with a luminous contentment.

She wore a gauzy dress embroidered with tiny peach blossoms, her hair adorned with the same delicate flowers. She looked like a peach-blossom fairy who had descended into the mortal world, fragrant and enchanting with every breath.

In stark contrast stood Tuoba Hong, who had spent the night half-submerged in icy water.

Suppressing a cough, his complexion shadowed with grey, he looked as though he hadn’t slept at all.

Like a proud peacock, Helian Zijun fanned his folding fan as he strolled before the weary Tuoba Hong, smug amusement dancing in his eyes.

“General Tuoba, did you go out stealing someone’s affections last night? Why do you look so haggard?”